I was working on my May calendar and after dating the first week I stopped and looked at the top and wondered to myself, “May? Is that right?”
I thought for a moment maybe I’d skipped a month until I remembered at the doctor’s office this afternoon I indeed dated my signature line, May 3, 2017. May is here. The month of Sam.
I wrote birthdays down, so many that I love this month. Today, my cousin Courtney’s birthday – this weekend, my brothers, and next week my Dad’s. In three weeks, Sam’s.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I feel a bit sick that it’s already May. Two years ago this day I was 34 weeks pregnant and planning my favorite party of the year; our annual crawfish boil. I was cleaning the house like mad, making decorations in my spare time, preparing menus for our party and speckling the walls because I thought it needed to be done before our baby arrived.
We threw a wildly successful party that year.
I so comfortably sat with my Mom friends as they cuddled their babies and I cradled my stomach.
I took belly photos with a lifelong friend as we knew our babies would be growing up together.
I let myself enjoy crawfish and so did Sam.
Our night ended with a rainbow over our house, God’s sign to his people that there is hope. And hope was all we had.
We had no clue that four short days later our baby would come early and that our baby would be dead. We had planned for our future but found ourselves planning a funeral instead.
I don’t know how two years have come and gone so quickly. I don’t know why I’m surprised to find myself in a mess of tears upon the realization that today is the third of Sam’s month; but it has and I do.
The summers feel so foreign to me now. I spent the summer of Sam inside, healing from a broken body and a broken heart. My family brought Sam’s rocking chair from his room to our living room where I’d endlessly sit, day in and day out, dazed and confused in puddles of tears.
It’s not authentic if I don’t share that it still hurts. My wounds are still deep. Some days my wounds still feel so fresh. After all, it’s only been two years. I deserve to allow myself to feel however I want, to grieve however I want and right now, it really just hurts.
I’m feeling the depths of his emptiness tonight. Will you miss him with me?
At Sam’s funeral, Pastor Tony who attended our crawfish boil that year, reminded our friends and family that with each boil celebration there would always be someone missing; Sam. And that the greatest gift you can ever give to us is to tell us you’re thinking of Sam.