I don’t know who I am, or what I’m doing.
This trip has reminded me how lost I am. How defined I feel by Luca, and how it’s hard to be defined by what isn’t, here.
Strangers don’t see him, they don’t see us. I am just me. Without my child.
I was pregnant, and now I am not. I once was whole plus one, and now I am zero.
My yearning to be Luca’s mother, and do all that regular things mothers do for their children, teases me every day when I look around and see strangers with their babies.
So often I feel angry, mad at the world. How could this happen to him? To us?
What am I supposed to do now? I am not the same person, so how do I live my life now? How do we live our life as mothers with no child here to mother?
Telling his story again to the friends and family here that have wanted to listen, has been healing and supportive. Being able to talk about my son to those who were involved in our lives before is bittersweet. I want to show them more pictures, but I have only the ones from the single time I got to hold my son.
The time I was defined as his mother.
And I will always be his mother. If only he were in my arms to share the experience with. Alas, they are empty. As am I.