Without fail, if Samuel is calmly sleeping and I decide to take advantage of that time to write a post he will wake up. I don’t know why, because as yet he ignores my requests that he use his words. Josh is keeping him calm for now – we’ll see what happens.
I never thought bringing home a living baby would fix the pain of Natan’s death. Still I guess some part of me was not prepared for how much it could still hurt 13 months later. Two nights ago I was sorting through random papers and piles around the house and I found an empty picture CD case in a large envelope. The case read “[my last name], S. – baby boy. 1/3/2007” The CD is in a different case in Natan’s box – I don’t remember why. I stood there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do. I was trying to sort through unnecessary stuff and a generic CD case when the CD is safely in another case is unnecessary. But the little typed label with my name connected to the words “baby boy” made it meaningful, if only because the physical connection between us ended far too soon.
If it had been a random object connected to my hospital stay with Samuel, I probably wouldn’t have kept it. I have him with me nearly all of the time. But 13 months later I am desperate to maintain a connection with Natan. To have every bit of evidence of his brief existence in this world.
I cannot believe his tiny little body has been in the ground for so long. It’s easy, relatively speaking, to think of what we are missing emotionally with our children, but now that Samuel is here, so incredibly big and beautiful and growing every day, the physicality of death plagues me when I think of Natan. I think I may disturb some of you by admitting that I think about decay, about what has happened to my son physically, while my life and tissue renews and sustains itself. I feel as if I could go insane thinking of it, and I push the thoughts away, but still they return.
Most of the time I am beside myself with happiness. I half-expected a bout of postpartum depression that has not yet, and looks like it will not, arrive. But some of the time, I am still very angry, and still very sad. Despite the great ending, so much of this past year has been so terribly unfair.