Sorry my sugah butts I am not even going to try and explain this or make it make sense. Just gotta get this off my heart before it renders me without breath. Uuuuh-gain. Some more.
You know, it is one thing to lose a child. No matter when it happens, how it happens, if you orchestrate the last day by stopping treatment, there is never enough time to say everything you want, to spend the time you need and to kiss kiss kiss their little defenseless heads enough. There is no enough, there is no too much, there is no fulfillment, satiation is not possible.
My son, my Jackson, was taken from me literally within minutes of being born. I didn't get to hold him, I barely got to see him before he was whisked away. Then he was stolen, oh you're damn right, stolen from me and taken to an altogether different hospital while I was unable to move with him. Finally, I was able to go to him, then to another hospital. But still no touching, no holding, no loving. Just suits and tubes and wires and glass between us. I never got to hold him skin to skin until the last day. Oh my heart, just typing that sentence burns me, flames lick at my skin, my arms ache and my stomach burns. Oh my little man, my baby, I am so sorry. You needed love and touch and kindness all those days, not solitary confinement from the people who love you so, so much.
And that is the distinction. I could keep writing about my love, my baby but it's all summed up completely by just saying, it was never enough. It could never be enough. I hear him everyday, I talk to him everyday, I hear him cry in my dreams, he will always be here because it will never be enough, the bleeding ebbs but is never staunched.
