...or at least somewhere close to today. Not three and a half months early.
I still have so much guilt, anger, confusion, and shock that Jack was born so early. I don't clearly understand what happened, or why. And yet I have to see him every day, suffering from his extreme prematurity, trying to just get to the point that most babies are already developed before they are born.
Today is a hard day for me. It's a happy day, since we have been blessed with Jack's presence. But it's still very difficult to face that things didn't go as planned. That I never got the chance to carry my baby to term. That I didn't go home with him, didn't get to sleep next to him at night, didn't get to feed him, didn't get to show him off and do normal "mom things." Maybe it'll get easier as time goes on. Maybe not.
I will always be filled with the questions, "What if?" and "Why?"
I will always wonder what could have been.
I will always feel guilty, no matter how irrational it may seem to others. I think many, if not most, preemie moms know how I feel.
I will always live in fear of a sneeze or cough, or the wrong shade of color on his face, or a pause in his breathing, or a tremor in his limbs.
I will always wonder how his life will be different, what he'll miss out on, what he'll have to endure, what he will never know.
It should have been today.