Passing of Time

I have a countdown timer on my phone.  We have used it for years to countdown to birthdays, anniversaries, and major holidays.  It's something we have always enjoyed to help build and keep excitement for these events coming.  The passing of time has always meant we are closer and closer to the exciting event that we have waited so long for.

I now have the opposite; yet my brain and heart and soul can't wrap around the concept.  The counter on my phone now counts from the date we lost our beautiful boy.  It has NO ending.  Yet when I look at it, when I see a calendar, or hear the date spoken, or when my body simply feels the passing of time I think, ok we made it 8 wks, just a few more that we have to make it and then I get my baby...oh wait.  There is no, and then.  Yet I can't wrap that up inside of me into a package that I can absorb.  I simply can't.

The counter of losing my baby never ends.  How is that?  How can I be expected to deal with this day in and day out with no end?  With no goal of making it thru?  No reward at the end.  No happy moment or time.  It simply counts until the day that I die.  How can my heart and soul be expected to with stand that?

Every morning  I wake and for those few brief moments in between sleep and awake I listen for the swish of his machines, the tick tick tick of the monitor, the slightest crackle of his video monitor.  I expect it to be there.  Every single morning I have to again come to the realization that he's gone.  My baby isn't there.  The never-ending counter is ticking the wrong direction into oblivion.  Every night I go to bed knowing that my baby is gone, yet every morning I must learn all over again that my arms are empty.

It's cruel.  Beyond cruel.  The life that I now live.  Having to relive my baby's passing every morning.  Having to watch the timer count to nothing, when only a click of a screen away it's counting to our birthdays and anniversaries, and holidays. 

I don't have to make it to a certain day.  I have to make it until the day I die and I get to go join my baby.  I don't want this to be my life.  I don't want to wake up each day ready to go snuggle my beautiful boy and brush his blonde hair back from his face every morning with my fingers so I can kiss his little forehead; only to slam into the brick wall off child loss so hard that it takes my breath away.

This isn't the life that I asked for or imagined. 

I wouldn't give up the time I had with my Tiny Warrior for anything, but this pain is one that I can't imagine carrying for the rest of my life.  I can only watch the counter tick into oblivion, and do my best to keep up with each and every day.

The passing of time hurts so very much. 

tick tock tick tock