Tonight, as I was bathing Nehemiah, I noticed a trickle of water running down his chest. This was no ordinary trickle of water. This trickle of water was enough to make me forget to breath. This trickle of water was enough to make my heart stop for a beat. For just a brief moment this trickle of water looked like scar tissue. For that brief moment our second born son appeared to have a scar on his chest that we anticipated our first son would have. For a brief moment I let myself pretend that Riley was in the bathtub. I could imagine that Riley, who would be turning 2 in just 12 days was alive and well. I could imagine that his scar was healing well from his heart surgery. I wanted to reach out and hold Riley.
But, that moment quickly faded into reality. The reality that our healthy son, Nehemiah was the son actually in the tub. The reality that our second son, who will be 1 tomorrow was sitting and smiling at me. The reality that if Riley was the son in the tub, Nehemiah would not be in the tub. The reality that Nehemiah may not have even been born yet if Riley were here.
Guilt. Pain. Numbness. Anxiety. Depression. Heartache. Fear. Love. Joy.
The feelings that I felt when we lost Riley that have become my scar tissue. Those feelings began to surface and reopen my wound in that moment. "I'm sorry, there is not a heartbeat." went along with the trickle of water moment. How can so much feeling exist in one tiny moment? Why does so much feeling and emotion come with one brief moment, but last a lifetime beyond? Why does that feeling and emotion hit a person at the most unexpected moments, but when the same person wants to set aside time to feel that emotion, the tears won't come? Those moments that add scars to our hearts.
There are days when something will catch my eye or take my breath away and I will be a sobbing mess. Most of the time anymore, sad moments, or moments that I remember Riley only stop my breath for a moment. I can feel my eyes wanting to flood with tears, however, my ducts are dry. I cried so much the first few months after loosing Riley that my eyes were dry for most of the year that followed. Then, when I gave birth to Nehemiah, the tears started flowing again. My scar had been reopened. Now, as we approach Nehemiah turning a year old, the ducts are dry. I still feel that I want to cry, but I mostly feel a sharp tug on my heart. I have more moments in which it is difficult to breathe. I have moments I can feel my scars, the ones that have healed, and the ones that will never heal properly.
I have read articles about how the human heart can be physically affected when a person experiences heartache. I have had my heart broken throughout the years, but most of those scars have mended. The heartache from the loss of Riley was deeper than any heartache I have ever experienced. That scar will never heal. There is not enough time that could pass. My scar will only heal when I get to see and hold Riley again.
I thank God everyday for Nehemiah. I can and will miss Riley, but I would not change anything to have him here. Nehemiah is suppose to be here. I have said that I never want to think about how old Riley should be or what he should be doing. But I know the truth is that I will. In one brief moment tonight, I did.
Tomorrow, we celebrate Nehemiah's birthday. It is hard to believe a year ago I was staring at a picture of Riley and holding onto his prayer beads as I pushed through labor to bring Nehemiah into this world. A year ago tomorrow I was sobbing for joy at the sound of a breathing son and mourning the loss of Riley all over again. Tomorrow I will celebrate Nehemiah, but my Riley scar will break open. Tomorrow I will smile and laugh, but I will be crying inside. Tomorrow makes the day that God gave us a son to be a little brother to Riley and a day that I will never forget.
I miss being pregnant. In an odd way, being pregnant was my strongest connection to Riley. I have felt him here and there this past year. but nothing like when I was pregnant. I miss that feeling. We talk about Riley daily with Nehemiah. We tell him good morning and good night. My hope and prayer is that as Nehemiah gets older and we talk about his big brother more, it will massage my scar and allow me to feel Riley with me again.
