I find that sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get through certain things. Life has thrown us for such a loop-dee-doo, that sometimes I really do not want to get out of bed some days. However, I know that the world keeps turning and life does go on. I have other children who need their mother and I must continue to live. For Avery, I go on, for I cannot stand to think of my children being left uncared for. Not that I don’t think my other family members would ignore them. (My point is that I truly believe they need a mother, even a mediocre one, such as myself.)
So now, I wonder, what can I do to include my deceased son in our family? Well, for one, I can take photos. Clearly, I cannot take photos of him, as he is not physically with me. Since I have had his inked footprints tattooed to my feet, I have felt strangely at peace most days. There are still days where I just cannot stop crying and I am angry for seemingly no reason at all. Those days don’t happen as much now as they have in the earlier days, thankfully. Yet, somehow, I still feel bad for not feeling bad. I guess it’s one of those catch-22s. There will be days I think that I feel fine and things are running smoothly and then, suddenly and without warning, all hell breaks loose and I just can’t keep it together.
So… how do I include my son into our family’s experiences? The answer is simple. These tattoos on my feet, they are a part of me and a part of him all at the same time. An interesting way to look at it, don’t you think? The thought I had was to take a photo of my feet in different places we go, etc., so that Avery is included. For example, we went to the beach for the first time since Avery’s birth/death and it was the same beach we were at almost precisely 1 year ago. One year and 4-5 days, to be exact. I was 30+ weeks pregnant with Avery the last time we went to St. Augustine, Fl. on March 15th, 2011. This year, we went on the 20th of March. I decided a few days ago that I would be marking this trip as “Baby’s first trip to the beach.” Now, you may find it silly, strange or even some act of denial. Let me be clear, I am not in denial. My son is dead. Not a day goes by that I don’t know that fact. I can’t forget. That sweet, perfect boy grew within me for 42 weeks! He will not be forgotten. I am simply choosing to include him, where others might shy away from sharing such an experience because it just hurts too much. I find that the more I talk about him and the more people know of his existence, it validates his life and hurts me less.
So here, I give you, Avery’s first trip to the beach. (As he is with me everywhere I go and with every step I take.)
(Yes, I am in desperate need of a pedicure. I hate people touching my feet, as I will be doing it myself, it must wait until I have the time.)
