When it rains it pours.. .. ..

The last few days have been dreary here.  The rain has been coming in waves, and when it comes it comes with a vengeance.  Yesterday a good part of town was covered in a layer of water and throughout today the rain has continued.

I haven't been feeling great, so driving across town to get home for lunch was a daunting task I didn't want to tackle.  Instead, I decided to go out to see Colton.  With the heavy rains I knew his flower cup would be full and need dumped and probably a wipe down of his headstone wouldn't be a bad idea, too.  The rain had let up - actually the sun was shining beautifully - so I headed over to check on my little monkey.

When I got to the cemetery I realized when it rains it really does pour. 

Just this morning another baby was buried. 

I just feel exasperated at this point.  I mean, seriously??  Two in just a few short weeks of each other.  I wanted to be wrong, that it was a cremation (the babies are surrounded by cremations) and NOT another baby.  So I asked in the office.  Yep, confirmation, two babies in just a few weeks time. 

How unfair is it that these babies died?  Here we are with Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years right on our heels and these babies left their families who were probably - like me last year - planning for celebrations ahead that included these little lives.  Halloween has never been a big "holiday" for me, yet this year I find myself looking at the baby costumes bitter that I should be dressing up Colton in something ridiculously cheesy and people should be ooh'ing and aah'ing over how adorable he looks.  And, of course, it goes downhill from there.. .. ..

When we first lost Colton Brian said he felt robbed.  I didn't feel that way, though I empathized with how he must be feeling.  Now I feel it too.  I feel like all these memories we should be making, all these milestones we should be experiencing ... they have been stolen.  By the darkness of death, by the sorrow of loss, by the emptiness left behind.  We've been robbed.

My heart aches for these families that have joined our ranks.  And what's odd ... I don't know what I would say to them if I had the chance to say anything.  There is nothing good to say.  Even as a mother who knows exactly their situation, I do not know exactly their pain.  And, even having gone through this, even I don't know the "right" things to say.  Which, if nothing else, gives me empathy for all those who struggle to say anything to me. 

Still, though, it just sucks.  For them, for us, for all the parents who each day have to remember their life is missing someone so special.  And everything that should be special is just a little tainted with the loss of our babies. 

They say time heals ... time doesn't heal anything, it just takes you further from the impact. Things become less crushing, but nonetheless painful.  The resolve at least brings comfort ... no sense hoping for something you know you'll never have.  Just learn to live with the pain and sooth it when you can; and be prepared for the times it floods over you.  Because when it rains, it truly does pour.