That little life that was growing inside of me. That little baby I felt doing flips inside me not long ago (10 days to be exact). I brought it home today. Not the way I ever imagined bringing it home. Not in the heat of august in a new summer outfit. Not in the gorgeous car seat we had been given. The fantasies of us taking the proud march through the hospital, my belly still round, dark circles under our eyes but that proud smile on our faces as we carry our new-born in his bucket seat to our car for our journey home. To start a new life together.
It wasn’t like that at all. I did that trek a week ago, with dark circles under my puffy eyes, holding Brent’s hand. Hands and belly empty of baby.
We named him Jonah.
Today we drove to the funeral home to pick up an urn smaller than the palm of my hand. I’ve begrudgingly signed my name on so many forms for Silas never thinking how lucky I am. Just thinking that when you’re an autism momma you sure have to give a lot of people your signature. I thought about that as I signed my name for the release of Jonah’s ashes. The last time I’ll sign my name for him. I’d sign it a million times more if he were only still alive and well and thriving inside me.
I keep thinking I would feel so empty if my life wasn’t already so full of love. We are hanging in there, counting our blessings. We are laughing when we feel like it and crying when the tears come. Finding healing in all emotions. Figuring out this new changed person we have become. Because we are forever changed.
Soon I will write the story of Jonah while it is all still fresh in my mind. As if it won’t ever still be fresh. But I want all the details down and documented. But for now I just want to go be near his ashes. I know it’s not him but it’s all I have left of that little monkey who was kicking inside of me. Only 10 days ago.