The Dream

Most of the time, it feels like my brief 9 and a half months as Maxie's mommy was just a dream.  I feel like I am writing about it all in part to prove that it really happened.  I wanted to be a mommy forever.  I never knew it would be as wonderful as it was.  I think that I had only been prepared for the hard parts (which were indeed hard).  I knew I would feel abundant love for this child, but I had no idea how that love would transcend any feeling that I had ever had before.  There are no words.  It is the most pure, deep, and satisfying love there is.  I have this terrible waking nightmare about looking back at my life and remembering that I was a mother once, for nine and a half months, to the most beautiful and wonderful child, and that is the end of my motherhood story.  Maxie's death cannot be the end of my motherhood story.  It just cannot be!  I am gripped with fear and I wonder if I could ever love another child as deeply as Max anyway.  Even if I only loved another child half as much, it would be a love that would be so consuming and pure.  A child who was loved even a quarter as much as I loved Max would never feel anything from me but deep and penetrating adoration.  I am assured that parents love all of their children equally.  That is very comforting to know.  To the rest of the world, it has been not even four months since Max died.  For me, it feels like decades.  I have aged at least that much.

My little dream baby.  Almost too cute to have been real