Charlie existed outside my womb for 75 days, and today marks 75 days since the day he left us- he's been gone just as long as he was here. It's the only day like this that there will ever be, because from tomorrow morning on I will know that he has been gone longer than he was ever here. I'm so sad, I miss him so much. But all day I've tried to remember happy times.
Happy times when I was pregnant with him, happy times with him here with us, happy times since he has passed, and the all the happy times to come.
When David found out he was a boy, he was ecstatic. He had acted like he didn't care, but he really did.
My labor was so fast with him, and after he was born and Dave was holding him I heard one of the nurses ask, "What's his name?" and the proud dad answered (without consulting me) "Charlie. His name is Charlie."
I remember this fantastic day with the two kids in Louisville. We went to see David at work, and he took a break and met us for coffee. He held one kid on each knee, and he looked so happy. Later that day I went to Whole Foods with the kids and had Ada in the cart and Charlie in my Boba on my chest, nursing. It was one of our only beautiful, peaceful, two child days.
On one of his last days we spent the whole day together while Dave and Ada were out at a historical fashion show. It was amazing. He was such a happy, smiley, easy going baby.
When Charlie passed, things were awful- dark, terrifying, and I really didn't think I could make it through the wait period to find out what happened. The day the autopsy report arrived was both terribly sad and a little relieving. Mixed into all of those feelings was a tiny bit of pride for the way they described him, "Barrel chested, "wearing a skull and crossbones onesie," and "had dirty fingernails." That was my boy. Love him.
Adaline misses her brother. She asked about him a lot in the beginning, but it's really become more distant for her lately. It's hard to explain what happened to a two year old. We told her that Charlie was in her heart. To which she replied, "Open my heart up so I can see Charlie." Smiles and tears ensued.
She does still walk around and "nurses Charlie" with her teddy bear. I miss her getting to be a big sister.
So, on this seventy fifth day, I still miss him. The pain is still very much there, but is much less raw than it once was. Life is moving forward, and while I know that one day the time we spent with him will be so small in comparison to the time we've spent doing everything else, I know that no matter how many days pass by I will always miss my son and he will always hold a space in my heart like no one else ever will.
There is no greater heartbreak. He was the one that got away.