"Could this really be my life?"
"Could I really have my daughter here in my arms and my son gone from me?"
Reality hits hard.
It starts with a small thought...
Elliott is three and a half months old; we're having so much fun with her as she "matures." And this is the age, I know, when Miles was at his best, too. He was off the ventilator; it was our best time with him.
And then more thoughts just rumble through my mind...picking up speed...
We've taken Elliott to Charleston, Maryland, Texas, Arizona, the Grand Canyon. And home for crying out loud. We've gone through so many things with her...breastfeeding and then adding in formula. Listening to her learn to make sounds, laugh. Holding her while she sleeps and then sleep training. Walking with her in the Moby wrap for hours and hours. We've done so much. And here's the thing. With Miles at this point, we were still in the hospital. It's shocking. All this time and we were still in the hospital. It's incredible what we did, withstood, lived, memorized--four and a half months. All that matters is that's when we had Miles. Those were our four and a half months of having our boy.
And the reality is that we had our Miles for four and a half months and now he's gone forever--I know it to be true but can hardly believe it. Hardly stand it.
And the reality is that our Elliott is three and a half months old. Creeping up on Miles' four and a half months. Soon to be older than Miles got to be.
