Suspended in time, and hanging by a thread.. .. ..

When everything comes crashing down you realize how you're really holding on by just a thread.  I try to convince myself I am okay.  That I don't think about Colton every day, that I'm moving forward and healing. 

Last night I went into full panic mode.  I couldn't remember the exact time Colton was born.  I couldn't remember for sure how long he was.  He weighed 5lb 7oz.  I did remember that much, but the rest ... the rest just escaped me.  Was it 4:24 or 4:44?? Was he 17 or 19 inches??

I was in full-on panic.  I still haven't gone through the stack of "Colton Stuff" on my dresser, so I was frantically digging through piles of cards and discharge papers and baby clothes ... I couldn't find the papers with his stats on them. 

Think, think .... The "fetal demise" certificate!! That must have it, right? Just like a birth certificate??  I run across the room and dig in the drawer and yank it out.  Nope, that doesn't even have an exact time of birth!! Well of course not! Why would it!?  Why would his time of birth or size matter ... he was dead.  No benchmarks needed since he never really existed anyways, right?? @&*$##&(@

I finally find a book I made, a photo book through an online service.  The only  productive thing I've done in regards to Colton since his birth.  Death.  Whatever.

There it was, 4:24 a.m., 5lb7oz, 19 inches.  Exactly what I thought, but exactly what I couldn't trust that I remembered. 

I realized I probably remembered all along.  I'm just so scared of forgetting him altogether.  I am so afraid he'll be a distant memory, a memory you wonder if ever really happened or if it's something you saw in a movie and it became woven into your own memories. 

My son, if born alive, would be six months old today.  He'd probably be at least scooting, and smiling, and drooling, trying to break a tooth, and eating at the table with us.  We'd be scheduling his half-year pictures and heading to the doctor for a check up.  We'd be doing anything but visiting him at his graveside.

Time has been suspended.  Six months.  So surreal and so heartbreakingly, undeniably real. 

It's been raining the past few days.  For the first time in a long time I woke up at 4:24 a.m.  And it was pouring outside.  I know it's just mother nature, though I couldn't help trying to find comfort that maybe God, Colton, and all the other angels were crying with me.

Happy six-month birthday my sweet angel.  Mommy loves and misses you more than even I can bear to acknowledge.