Relaxed, present, wanting.
If only this picture and every picture of these two could actually be of him and her and not of his bear.
If only he was here taking an afternoon nap with us on my big bed.
If only I could have one day to spend with him and soak everything about him up.
If only I knew what it felt like to feel his touch, know his voice, and look into his eyes.
If only love could have saved him.
If only one of these things could happen, I’d be forever grateful.
If only, if only, if only is the only thing I can say when thinking of Jensen in the present.
If only people were educated with the pregnancy risks and stillbirth before it happened to them.
If only we could all go back in time.
If only pregnancy outcomes could change and mothers and their children be safe every time.
If only one person finds healing in these words and the words of others on this journey, I will be thankful.
If only I could have saved Jensen and all the babies gone too soon.
There are a million ‘if only’ situations I could think of. I’ve said it a million times since Jensen was born. I wanted to see and know every part of him and the future he should have had. In the beginning, the ‘if only’s’ felt like way I could have done better and it put blame on myself. Now I see them as ways he would be in our family now and how because of him and his memory, he can positively impact someone in our shoes. This transformation of the phrase shows true healing, but the first ones will always haunt me. I will always long to know more about him and if I could have done anything to save him, but I can’t let that bring me down. He’s brought so many positive things to me and lessons I would have never learned if he’s not exist.
If only he knew how much his life has made mine better.
If only I could tell him I am a better person because of him.
If only he could hear me say I loved him.