The little blue crate in my basement.

Today as I completed my weekend to-do list I found myself trapped in the basement next the crate with things I kept for my baby. Every time I go to the basement to do laundry or place unneeded things in storage I glance at the blue crate which always makes my heart sink.

Today was different.. As I took a deep breath I opened the crate revealing things that were purchased at a time when my heart was filled with so much hope and joy. Now when I look at those things I feel pain and thoughts of what could have been or images of what my son would have looked like in the super cute 101 Dalmatians onesie and matching hat with ears or me and his dad reading one of the books I purchased to start his collection. I thought to myself that although it's been hard for me to let go of these things I HAVE TO. I realised that I was keeping these things because I felt as though I would lose what little I have that proves that my baby existed. I still can't believe that what was suppose to be a happy time turned into a nightmare. But even though there was a change in events I still see my baby as the greatest gift I could have ever received. What's most important is that I continue to keep his memory alive. Although he was on this earth for a extremely short period time he is still apart of my life and I am still his mother and that will never change. I don't  need things to remind me of him... I have kept some things that were made specifically made for him one of which is a blanket that was made by my grandmother who passed shortly after him that summer.. I also have a few stuffed animals that serve as a comfort measure for those rough nights. I have a few photos and of course his tiny urn. But most importantly I still feel him, I can still picture his face. I still have phantom kicks. I could still feel his little fingers and his little nose. 

Some think I'm not moving forward. What mother could possibly just move forward as if her child never existed. In fact I am still going and moving and existing. No one has a right to say that I'm not progressing. Especially those who have not walked in my shoes. The hardest part of grieving is getting others to understand that it isn't necessary to constantly try to reverse the affects of what happened. I am not the same and will never be.