distance | Grey Skies & Rainbow Highs

The distance between a mother and child should never be too far. From conception to a time we can’t even comprehend, they should always be together. While her child grew in her belly, they were literally connected by an umbilical cord to provide life. This lifeline stay connected even after birth, until someone makes that cut.

Does that cord ever really get disconnected though? When it does happen, is there a real distance between mother and child? Or is that lifeline always there?

Even in death?

I remember the moment he was born. Immediately the emptiness filled my body. Yet, he was right there in the room, still connected to me. It felt like time stood still as the doctors handled his body, covering him in his blanket. They asked Anthony if he wanted to cut the cord and I wanted to scream out ‘NO!’ Please don’t disconnect his lifeline from me. Let it stay, forever. Instead, they cut it for him and took Jensen away. The first moment I was ever distanced from him. It’s a moment that will always haunt me.

There are times I feel the distance between earth and heaven is just too far away. My heart and arms ache for some physical connection to Jensen. I try to hold Jensen bear or go through his hospital folder. Anything to take me back to the moment before we were physically distanced.

Then there are moments where I feel like I can tug on this invisible lifeline that’s connected between him and I.

I can send him messages and tell him I need a sign. It’s our little secret connection to diminish this earthly distance. I can really feel him here with me. He’ll send me a cardinal or blue jay. Or something will just let every cell of my body know that he’s reaching out to me. Everyday I wish I could take this cord and pull him down from heaven and into my arms. That way we didn’t have to talk through this secret, silent language we’ve created. I really wish that.

Each day I try and fail to make this wish come true. Deep down, though, I don’t think the connection between mother and child ever goes away. We are all invisibly connected to them, but, some distances can be seen and others cannot.

But no matter the distance, my heart will always be connected to his.

I’m sorry, I really am.

I see your beautiful sons and daughters getting bigger and doing new things, but I can’t ‘like’ the post. But I do like, even love, them in my heart, it even brings me a little smile. Children should grow and discover new parts of the world every single day. Each step they take is a milestone and every time they learn something new it should be celebrated. I completely understand why you want to share with the whole entire world, but I can’t bring myself to show how I care.

It only takes two seconds to press a button, but it’s so hard for me to acknowledge your child is thriving and mine is not here. I’ve neglected my role as a friend when it comes to others having children. I hurt inside knowing that I can never show how proud I am when Jensen does something new. I’ll never be able to record his first steps or how he smashes into his first birthday cake. My firstborn will never get a first day of school picture or a time-lapse from the beginning to the end of the year. I see all of these from all my friends and I’m truly happy for you, but it breaks my heart at the same time.

Some call it jealousy or being bitter. I admit, there’s jealousy that Jensen didn’t come out kicking and screaming and I can’t pull out my phone and show you any videos of him. There’s jealousy in never being able to share those big moments, especially when his milestone days come and he’s still not with me.

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