My house is quiet. Too quiet. There is no crying babe, no chatty toddler, no...sound...at all...
My heart feels heavy and full of an emptiness that only a mother who has buried a child can understand. My belly is empty from the loss of my sons, and feels cavernous tonight.
I feel sad. I miss my baby. 9 weeks ago I held his tiny body and begged God to let me keep him. My soul aches with missing my children... a deep ache, a belly ache. I want to scream, to cry...to run...and not stop. This quietness teases me, and cloaks me in itself.
I try to fill up my days with phone calls, internet activities, meeting up with friends....to avoid the quiet that comes when I am alone. I'm thankful that we decided to have Levi at the hospital rather than at home, as we had planned. I think it would have made it unbearable to be here at all.
I can hear Matt breathing deeply now. I am not alone. He too is feeling the sadness only a father who held his sons for only moments can know. A father who has two dead boys...two tiny graves with the our last name on them...two....gone.