Today is January 3rd, Natan’s day. Only it never really has been his day. I know nothing about him, other than that like my other boys, he was on his way to being a big baby, but unlike them, never had a chance to grow. He kicked ultrasound wands and had my toes and my nose. That’s all there is, was for me to know of him.
I am not a particularly sentimental person. I don’t do much to commemorate anything–birthdays or anniversaries. Samuel, of course, cares alot about his birthday, and since he’s here to know about it, we do stuff. Natan is not, so we don’t.
It doesn’t mean I don’t think about him or wonder or mourn. I do. But I have two little ones here with me today. Samuel is sick with a cold and is resting on the couch. Jonah seems a little out of sorts too.
Six years ago, I worried I would never have any of this. No snuggly sick cold days at home with little ones. No healthy days out and about. Today is the anniversary of the worst day of my life. But except for the calendar date, today is a mundane day.
Despite all that we lost and all the distance I have to go still in healing, it has only gotten better since then. I don’t really know how to commemorate that. So I’ll just hang out at home with my boys, snuggling and being thankful for today and how different it is.