A Hurt That Never HealsJanuary 15th will mark 4 years since my little angel, Jackson, was born sleeping. It still feels like a dream to me. Even though, I know it is the dark truth, I still wonder why me?
At 36 weeks, I went into labor. I felt him kick on way to the hospital, but once there, the nurses said there was no heartbeat. That was at 8:30pm. He was delivered at 11:45pm. His lips and fingernail beds were a deep dark purple. His hair a dark brown. 8 pounds and 3 ounces. And the reason for his death, no one knows.
Needless to say, his death was very hard on me. I wanted to die as well. I have an older daughter, shes 9 now. And if it hadnt been for her, I probably would be. My husband and I made it until May, then we divorced. He had been seeing someone else since the burial. His excuse was I "grieved too much" to make him happy. Now hes happily married with two more children. He never visits Jackson's grave.
I am in a great relationship as well. I have a 2 year old son, Calian, and he is the light of my day. But at night I still feel a tinge of guilt because I feel like Jackson is being forgotten. Myself, my fiance, who never knew Jackson, and my best friend are the only people who visit his grave.
I knew his birthday/death day anniversary was coming up and I was talking to my fiance about it. But for the life of me I couldnt remember how old he was going to be. I said 3 and Kris corrected me. How could I forget my own son's age??
I have been so down and upset about that since, and with Tuesday being the anniversary, my sadness only deepens. I have no one to talk to about this, well, that could understand. I still feel an emptiness inside. Nothing can fill that void. I've moved on, true. But the hurt will never heal.