Two Decades

Today is December 7th, which means it’s been TWO DECADES since my son, Isaac, was born! It’s hard to believe so much time has gone by on the calendar since his birth in 2002. TWENTY years of birthdays that have not been celebrated in the typical ways. Twenty years of people around me not even realizing that this day on the calendar stirs up a flood of emotions and memories in my head and heart.

Some of those years left me feeling invisible because so few people cared to ask me how I was doing. Either because they have forgotten what my memory cannot, they don’t know what to say to a grieving mother, or they are afraid to stir up the feelings that already burst from the seams of my heart.

Some of those years made me wonder if Isaac was just a figment of my imagination, like he never existed, because there is little to no acknowledgement of his birthday. He’s nothing but a distant memory to some people, or he’s something difficult that happened to me in the past that has no impact on their own lives.

Some of those years, I wanted to hide away, curl up in a ball in my bed, and pretend that life was normal, even though a piece of me felt missing. But pretending didn’t work, and inevitably the tears gushed out, spilling out onto my pillow or into my cat’s fur and leaving me incapable of doing anything else that day.

Some of those years had me scrambling to figure out how to get to the cemetery before it closed at dusk because I was desperate to visit Issac’s gravesite on his birthday. Sometimes that meant going on my lunch break and holding back the emotions so my eyes weren’t red from crying when I returned to work.

Some of those years reminded me to be thankful for every breath I’ve been given on this earth. Other years, I’ve yearned to be in heaven with Isaac so that I didn't have to endure the pain of his loss anymore.

Some of those years, like today, I want to cherish the memory of a son who wasn’t supposed to live a single day, but he did live. I let the blessing of his short life flood my heart and fill me with joy. The tears will still fall because the pain never goes away, but I don’t feel the strong pull to visit the cemetery because I know in my heart that Isaac isn't really there.

In two decades, I've learned that grief is a journey. It will always have its ups and downs. It can sneak up on me and can gradually fade away or intensify, depending on my circumstances. There is no rhyme or reason to it - grief is very unpredictable. There will be things that trigger both pleasant and painful emotions in me.

One year to the next, I don’t know how my emotions will respond on this day, and I’ve learned to be okay with that. I give myself grace to face the day however I feel it necessary because it was my body that worked so hard to bring life into this world. It was my heart that was so deeply connected with his. I felt Isaac move inside me before I held him in my arms. I knew him before I laid eyes on him. And those are the things I want to focus my mind on today, on what would have been my son's 20th birthday.

While he may not physically be here today to celebrate, I can celebrate the fact that Isaac will continue to live on in my heart and memory. And, one day, I know we will celebrate together in heaven.

xo