Thursday, April 22, 2010

Day Twenty-two of the First April Remembering

Here are some things I wish he knew about me:

That I wear rose perfume that smells just exactly like roses and I smell it everywhere, even though I chose to not bring it to the hospital when you were born because they told us that the baby needed to just smell my unperfumed scent. At the time I thought, That’s cool. I’ll wear it as he gets older and when he’s an old man, he’ll remember that his momma wore rose perfume. Now, it always reminds me of you.

I wish you knew that I love to sing and that I had been singing to you while you were in my tummy…hm. Maybe you knew I would sing to you, then. And that when I was pregnant with you, I was overcome whenever I sang. So much emotion. My heart so full of love for you that sometimes it made me feel like I could break apart with weeping.

I wish you knew that I loved to paint and draw and that I had already bought you a book by my favorite children’s author. That I had daydreamed about fingerpainting with you and making crazy looking cookies for your grandparents when you were old enough to be able to do stuff like that and still young enough to not take yourself too seriously. I daydreamed about making a painting of you while you slept.

I wish you knew that I had an amazing childhood and that your father had one, too, and that I had so many hopes for traditions we were going to make for you.

I wish you knew that I had dreamed about nuzzling you right under the chin. Kissing your nose and forehead. Memorizing the smell of you. I wish you knew that I didn't mean to not do that... I wish I could go back to those moments and shake off the drugs, and this time I would hold you and hold you tighter, kiss your face, undress your tiny, perfect body and memorize every line of you. I wish I could tell you that.

I wish you knew that I have horrible luck with cars but that your dad doesn’t, and that your dad was going to teach you how to fix them. And how to fix lawn mowers. And how to fix anything he could think of. That Don was calling you his “little partner” and that he would have made you laugh every day.

I wish you knew that your mother is a woman deeply loved by your father and that I wanted you to be like him. I wish you knew that we are so happy, even though we miss you, and that we are deeply blessed, even if we do sometimes feel like we're walking around a gigantic crater blown into our lives that has "April 28" written on it.

I wish I could look into your little baby eyes and know that you see me and that you can feel the love that still sits in my heart for you, that rocks back and forth and feels desperate for you. I wish I could sing you a song and put you down for a nap and wake up to your laughter.

I wish you knew about me that the day you were born became one of the most important things anyone could ever know about me.

I wish you knew so much.
 
Maybe you do.

3 comments:

wendymhall said...

Oh,Sam. No one loves quite like you. Such a blessed boy...even for the short months he was with you. I love you and am so proud of you.

sarah said...

he heard you sing. he heard your voice and knew it was you. he definitely heard you sing!

Samantha said...

thank you two ladies... am just now seeing comments !