77 Days

I counted the start of your life in days.  Days and milestones.  The days became weeks; the weeks became months. Days, weeks, and months of blue eyes smiling and tiny teeth dotting a gummy grin.  First laugh, first word, first step.  One year marked a momentous celebration.  That you existed in the world felt like an impossible gift—a blessing beyond measure.  I was awed.  Humbled.  Well, let’s face it—I was tired and overwhelmed too.  How could I possibly be good enough for what you deserved?  How could I—not much more than a kid myself, and surprisingly, achingly, a newly single mom—give you all you needed?  But we did it, you and me.  My boy and me.  Mommy and Kenny.  We grew together, heart to heart.  Your heart in mine, mine in yours.

Your birth was a miracle beyond my imagining.  You rode in on waves of pain, turned to magic as I held you.  For more than 29 years.  For 10,737 days.  The days of my son and me.

I’m counting in days again.  It’s been 77 since you left.  I’ve learned that mothers—if made to live beyond their children—birth their deaths as well.  The waves are like that.  The waves of grief rise through me and pulse in my belly as I release you and rebirth myself into this new reality.  77 days.  11 weeks.  2 and ½ months.

I’m awed by your life as well as your passing.  I’m humbled to have been—to be—your mom.  I’m overwhelmed by the weight of it all.  And I’m still marking the milestones.  First Tuesday, first ball game, first autumn.  I’m doing it for you, and I’m doing it for me. For Mom and Kenny.  I’m still trying to grow.  But more than anything, I’m trying to grow with you.  You are not here in my arms or here by my side, but my heart is filled with you.  My world is filled with you.  I’m learning a new way to be your mom, to go forward with you.  For 77 days I’ve been learning.  I’ll keep learning for all the days I’m here.  And one day, one day, sweet baby of mine, maybe all that love will be enough.  I’ll stop feeling the waves.  I’ll stop counting the days.  And we’ll have gotten where we’re going, you and me.