I can't believe Thomas would have been 5 months old today. In so many ways it seem like just yesterday that we were nervously timing those early, exciting contractions while I lay on the couch in the family room. When I look back it's like those are two people I barely recognize now. Silly kids, they didn't have a clue.
Unfortunately we know better now.
Ah, my poor sweet baby I wish with all my heart and soul that you were here. I had such plans - such dreams. We both did.
But you know what? We're doing okay. We're not those naively excited parents-to-be anymore, but what we are is two people who are in the middle of weathering life's greatest storm and who are still clinging to each other with a sometimes startling ferocity. I've read about couples who are torn apart by lesser things or who don't stand the test of a grief like ours, but we're okay. We're more than okay, actually.
My beloved has become a part of me in a way I can't explain. It's like I don't know where I end and he begins.
I miss Thomas with every fibre of my being, but when I curl up next to my beloved at night I know I'm going to make it. I can bear the loss as long as I can feel him breathing softly behind me as I drift off to sleep, and as long as I can reach out and touch him when a bad dream wakes me.
And when I wake up in the night being pulled close, I know he needs me too.