Heartbeats and Heartache

As we stood in line with your brothers at Build a Bear my heart silently ached in my chest. There we stood, as a family, but not truly whole; a piece of us forever missing from this world. Will it always be this way? Will I always feel like no matter where we are, no matter what we are doing, we will never be whole? Will your absence from our lives always knock my breath out of my chest and bring me to my knees. Will I ever truly enjoy another moment of quality time with your brothers without it being overshadowed by my grief from losing you? Will I always see every moment with them as a moment without you?

The most innocent moments blindside me with grief and sadness on days otherwise filled with love, laughter, and the makings of happy memories: Your brothers playing in a bin of hearts while we wait to stuff big brother Jack’s new Build a Bear, Stormfly. Those perfectly shaped, tiny, red hearts; plastic hearts with heartbeats awaiting to get stuffed into their new owners precious keepsake, stare mockingly at me. I scream silently to myself as tears fill my eyes and anger boils through my veins.

I wish I could yell. I wish I could scream. I wish I could thrash and kick. I wish I could throw an adult sized toddler temper tantrum and show the world the anger that often consumes me. But most of all I wish you were still growing in my belly and kicking inside of me safe and sound. I wish we were anxiously awaiting your December arrival and prepping your nursery instead of mourning the loss of you.





It’s not fair that you were taken from us before you even took your first breath. It’s not fair that we will never get to see your sweet smile, hear your sweet laugh, or hold you softly through the night. It’s not fair that I will never get to see my three son’s at play together or break up your fights. It’s not fair that we must move on without you.

It’s just NOT FAIR.

As we leave Build a Bear I mindlessly go to count your brothers (if your a Mom, you know what I mean) and the grief grips my heart yet again. In my mind I know you’re gone; in my mind I know I’ll never see your little head bobbing through the mall sweetly reaching for your big brother’s hands, but in my heart, in my soul, I know you should be here with us. I long to see our family whole and together again. I long to have a third head to count on our way out the door. I long for a life filled with the chaos raising three King boys would inevitably bring.

I long for you Everett and I always will. No one and nothing will fill the hole you’ve left in my heart and in our lives. You will always be loved. Always be missed. And always be counted in our numbers.

Everett’s Mom

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