The other day the sun was shining, but all I felt was darkness. Everything went to silence as I was getting ready for the day and Jonah’s song came on the radio. It brought me back to his burial. We played a song at his graveside as we watched family and friends release blue balloons into the sky. The mental picture of this alone brought me to tears and to my knees.
I laid on the floor and cried. I cried and screamed in hopes that I was living a dream and that I could somehow wake myself up.
Somedays, I feel like Jonah is like those blue balloons. Every day he gets farther and farther away from me.
Most parents with living children get emotional because their little one is growing up and is finally 1 year old and they ask themselves, “What happened to my baby?”
Although he lived in my womb for 7 months, I had one brief moment in time with my baby.
I ask myself the same question, “What happened to my baby?”
As time passes, the moment gets hazier and hazier and its hard for me to recall every little detail. I ask Drew about it and he hesitates to talk about his perspective of the night. I think he doesn’t want me to return to the pain of the night.
But I know the answer to the question. Even though I ask it.
I just wish he lived in my arms and not my heart.
“As I pour out my heart, these things I remember
You are faithful, God, forever”