You Have Stolen My Heart.

Sometimes I feel a little guilty or torn in saying what I'm about to say.  Regardless, I'm going to say it anyway because it's not only true, it's important. 

Flynn, you have stolen my heart.

As a bereaved parent who has lost a baby, there a lot of could haves and would haves. Where would you be? What would you look like? What kind of spirit would you have had that would dictate every choice of your life? And what would those choices have been? Would you love Mickey Mouse like your brother? Or would you only be interested in music? What foods would you love? Your brother HATES bananas, would you have just as well? 

I'll never know. 

A lot of moms I meet out and about assume I'm a first time mom. And in some ways, I am. My firstborn lived only until 3 months old. How could I know, from personal experience, what to do and what to expect at 6, or even 8 months? I'm still learning, listening, and trusting. But that makes me mad. I should know. There was another baby, you know...

"There should be TWO!!!" Is a thought in my mind (imagine with a raised voice!), that I exclaim often. I can almost feel the weight of both of them in my arms as I think it. And what that might be like...I wish I had the privelege to know. 

My heart split in two when I had Flynn, and continues to grow with every passing day. I have Trey in his forever home in one segment of my heart,  and my second born in another. It's hard work and mentally taxing to be a mother of both an angel and an earthling. But not all too different from the plight of mothers with two living children. Your heart and mind are divided in two places (and more, of course the more children had...) And no segment assigned is roomier or more beautifully adorned.  They both have their different spaces, and you love them equally and unocclivoly.

My fear is that the more I love and learn about Flynn, time drags me away from my eldest. My teacher. The boy who made me a mother. The first person I wish to be greeted by, if the concept of Heaven is accurate. I love him as much as if he were here, but my attention is veered to the brother that is here... is alive. I am often torn, to say the least. In this, I find my guilt and my experience, and the weight it has created. But I would not want it any other way. It truly IS better to love and lost than to never have loved at all. This I know to be true. 

As the memories get longer and wider with Flynn, I find myself grasping for Trey's, as if trying to grasp the tip of a running dog's tail. But I keep running, and I keep catching it. Because he was here. And he matters. 

As I've grown older (and hopefully wiser),I have learned the paradox that two things are able to be true at once. I miss my boy. I grieve him, however infintismally, daily. I devote my LIFE to him.  I live solely to make him proud.

AND...

Flynn has stolen (his corner, his room) of my heart. 

Eventually I hope to reconcile this battle in my mind and my heart. But this is what it feels like now. 

Thank you for listening. It helps me to remember...