I just finished Rob Delaney's book, "A Heart That Works" about his journey with his son, Henry's brain cancer and death. I loved it. I should have counted the number of times he told people to "fuck off" in it, it was truly majestic. At one point he admonishes people for not reading a pamphlet about his life and loss before they speak to him. I often wonder that myself. "Do you have ANY IDEA what we've just been through and what we have to LIVE with on a daily basis??"
Anyway, today is Easter Sunday. We went to our first Mets game of the season (LGM!!). They lost. It was sad. But we had great seats and Logan really enjoyed himself. My husband has been training him from a very early age to chant, "Let's go Mets!" and it really paid off today. He is now kind of old enough to understand that there is actually something happening on the field, although whenever a plane flew past, he was totally in awe and said, "What's that sound? Did you hear that?!" We actually went early and got photos with Mr. Met, and got like $20 in Dunkin' Donuts gift cards. If you get the chance, go early! So many perks! We tried to get an autograph from the new pitcher, Sena, but little assholes cut the line so we didn't make it in time.
As we were there, I was feeling relieved because going to the games has always been more of a me, Paul, and Logan deal. Not because we didn't want to include Teddy, but because I was very broken last year, what with my multiple major surgeries and inability to walk correctly and all. So Teddy got to go to one game. One glorious game on June 20th. He made everyone around him smile. That kid could make friends instantly. There was no question ever about who the cutest baby ever was (sorry, Logan!).
So today wasn't as horribly difficult as it could have been, but there is this hole. This huge, gaping hole where he should be. Whenever the three of us are out somewhere, I can't even begin to tell you how many times my brain says to me, "There should be 4 of us. Where is Teddy and why is he not here?" I saw on a grieving parent instagram story a few tips and tricks of how to keep our dead babies present in our every day lives. One of them was to keep a laminated photo with you at all times so you can take family photos that include them. I really liked that, so I brought my little travel case with Teddy's photo, and then promptly forgot to put him in more than 1 shot. But I knew his memory was there with me, and it made a difference. As I sit here and write this, I can see so many of his smiling photos looking down on me from his memorial wall in our apartment. God, how I miss him.
I miss how he and Logan could keep each other occupied for hours. I was so happy when Teddy was old enough to be interested in Logan, and for Logan to be interested in him. What a load off my back! Logan has always been pretty needy in terms of wanting us to play with him, and Teddy always wanted to be held, cuddled, and to crawl all over you. But there were these magical moments where they would actually entertain each other and I could sit back and watch them with my heart exploding in love and joy. Now there is just that huge hole. And I know Logan feels it, too. It is heart breaking.
I told Paul right before he put Logan to bed, "This is as normal as I've felt in a long time." We had just finished painting the Easter cookies our neighbors gave us, and I was puttering around, actually cleaning up and feeling kind of peppy. As it was happening I knew that it wouldn't last. It took all of 1 minute after I kissed Logan goodnight before I was sitting at the computer, desperately looking at videos and photos to try to see when we had all gone to a game together. Then I just kept looking, because once you see that little boy's smile and hear his laugh, you just NEED it more and more and more. Fuck me, I just don't understand how I will never be able to hear it again in real life. It's stuck in these videos and photos. Forever trapped in some digital ether that I pray to all things holy never has a glitch or god FORBID gets erased or corrupted somehow. I shouldn't have even written that.
I feel this hole especially when I see families of four. I find myself thinking one of a few thoughts. I have no idea of which one it will be, but it is either, "Wow, they have absolutely no idea how lucky they are," or "Those assholes. Why do they get to enjoy both of their children?" or "I hope one of their kids doesn't die." I miss people coming up to us and telling us, "It will get easier," when they see us at a restaurant. This happened the night Teddy died. We were having fun eating out and this lovely older women stopped by our table to tell us that. I think of her often and wish I never had to know what it would be like to just be raising one son. I miss the chaos, I miss always being on alert, making sure that someone closed the bathroom door so Teddy couldn't get into the cat litter, making sure our coffee cups were always out of reach, or just picking up the millions of toys that ended up everywhere at all times of the day.
This hole sucks. I can't even begin to say how much it sucks. Fuck it. But I love you, my sweet, precious Teddy Bear, and having this hole is better than not having known you at all.
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