Today is the day when I remember Adrian, my first born child. He would have been seven if he had lived. I am no longer spending the day feeling miserable, but I allow myself to feel some of the sadness. If I really dig deep into it, it becomes as overwhelming as it was seven years ago. It is a big, black hole of despair that could engulf me. Except that I now have my two living kids, and dwelling in such feelings is short lived, if it happens at all. Emma and Daniel would not allow me to spend too much time in the past, because they live in the present and need me to provide for them in the present.
I had a good day, a day in which I connected with my husband and with my children. With all of my children. Adrian, my love, you have given me the first feeling of being a mom, the first feeling of overwhelming love and protection so big that I myself disappear and become the feeling itself. Your sister and brother know about you, and think about you often. You and I are separated by the physical laws, but you are only a thought away. In the blink of an eye, I can be back with you. Do you remember how I said I would live my life fully, for both of us? I am doing that, my son, and I hope to be able to do it until the day I die and meet you.
Your loving mother remembering you on this special day.
