Premature Empty-Nester

Oh, bother. She's at it again. Another sad post about missing her son.

While reading a fellow sad mama's blog, I came across something I hadn't really thought of before; holding another newborn. Andrew was the very last baby I held in my arms. Since that is the last time I will ever physically hold my son, now 4 months and 9 days ago, I'd like it to remain that way until future Wilson babies are safely in my arms. I desperately want cohesion between my children, if that is at all possible. I have other ideas to create this bond and unity, but those will remain internal for now.

Of course that isn't going to be for quite some time, and I'm okay with that. {Okay, no I'm not.} I don't expect to be understood by friends and family who have babies, but to me, I want to keep that moment sacred and protected. I'm not even fit to be around newborns at this point and cannot foresee that moment presenting itself comfortably anytime soon. It's just such a deep-rooted pain that I cannot bandage.

April 17, 2010 marks the day we found out we were officially expecting. It stings. That day is coming and I won't be celebrating a thing. I feel like the entire last year of my life has turned into one big Groundhog Day after another. Though at this time last year, we were anxiously awaiting a positive pregnancy test and this year, we're not.

We are just living the same life we had, but without the excitement and newness of last year. Last year at this time we were so overjoyed to be new homeowners. This year, I loathe the money drain and energy it takes to deal with the issues. The only reason we bought a home was because we wanted a stable place for our children to grow. Now, I just hate the empty, large space. What do two adults really need with over 2,600 square feet + a basement? It just feels so lonely.

Last year at this time, we were exploring and meeting new friends. Now we have friends and are watching them all have babies around us. Andrew should be older than every one of them. Because of this, there is unintentional (self-induced) division to protect ourselves from the void we're feeling.

This time last year, I was excited to experience the newness of spring just as my pregnancy was beginning. It was like I was watching my entire life just change and blossom. It was my first real spring and my first pregnancy. It was such a beautiful time and the colors seemed more vibrant. This year I'm just annoyed with the (still) cool temperatures and loathing the humidity that will come soon. I'm not noticing the colors nearly as much. Spring is here and the trees are telling me, but I don't want to believe it.

I guess this is what it might feel like to have an "empty nest", but I'm not willing to accept that. I don't think it's quite the same, though the same principle is there: a child leaves the home. But instead of moving on to college or getting married, our child left the nest before he was ever placed in it. An empty womb, not an empty nest. Because that would imply that we had a birth and homecoming, of which we didn't. The emptiness is maddening.