Everywhere and nowhere

Dear Carter,

Today marks three weeks since the last time I saw you smile or heard your sweet voice. Three weeks since you nursed at my breast. Three weeks since you opened your eyes to look at me. I miss you. My arms ache for you. My tears are seemingly endless today. There are still times when my life doesn’t feel like it’s mine. There are other times when the reality comes smashing down — close to crushing me — when I realize the truth and that truth is that you are never coming home. The finality of it is overwhelming.

You are everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. Everywhere because everything I see reminds me of you and nowhere because when I look, you aren’t there. Everywhere because every single child makes me think of what dreams I’ve lost. What I will never get to teach you. What milestones I will miss. Nowhere because none of those children are you, my precious son. Everywhere because I feel the weight of your ashes in the necklace around my neck. Nowhere because my empty arms ache for your soft, warm body. Everywhere because none of my stupid clothes fit and I’m carrying fifty extra pounds around. Nowhere because you are gone and I don’t have a baby after all this baby weight (but you were worth every pound!). Everywhere because I can feel your goodness, your purity, your light all around me. Nowhere because I can’t touch, or see, or smell, or taste you. Everywhere because my tears have stained every inch of my bed. Nowhere because I can’t roll over and watch you sleep in your bed beside mine. Everywhere because your sweet memories fill all the rooms in our house. Nowhere because all of the stuff we collected for you, our baby, is now piled in a dark corner of a back room under a blanket, keeping silent vigil for your memory while at the same time screaming the question of future children.

I am truly bereft. I am a mother without her child. What hope then? What joy? How do I go on without you, sweet baby? I feel sick to remember telling friends at work that I had gotten bored on maternity leave. If I had known just how short my time with you would be, I would have never slept, never let you out of my arms, never let you out of my sight. I’ll spend forever wondering if I could have somehow saved you if I hadn’t let someone else care for you. I’ve spent nights awake and it’s so lonely without you to hold or rock or nurse.

I never knew I could feel this. All of these emotions surrounding you, my love. Exquisite joy while you were here with me. Profound sorrow that you’re not anymore. The most amazing love. The deepest desperation. Terrified that you were my only chance. Terrified that you weren’t. Whole. Completely ripped apart. Adoration. Despair.

You’ve sent your love to me every day when I see our special number 11, and I kiss your necklace and say, “I love you too, baby,” but it’s not the same as when

I kiss your smushy cheek.

Love you forever,


One thought on “Everywhere and nowhere

  1. My heart aches for you. Praying for you all the time. I keep Carters picture in my kitchen. He is so handsome. Love you.


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