It wasn't the same this year, Flynn's birthday. Even that is hard to say. I waited for the lead up; the weeks of turmoil and instability. I waited for my body to remember, feeling hollow and burdened and it did not happen the way I had known in the past. Maybe it was because we left the familiarity of routine and our home, taking a mini vacation to a place of happiness.
We were not here. I thought I would be okay with that. Actually I was content with that until today (the day after his birthday) when I realized that a day which I have always devoted to him did not hold the same commitment to Flynn's memory ~ this year. Sure I did a Facebook post to remind the world of his significance and my grief but that takes one second out of my day. Consequently I was sent messages of love and friendship throughout the day and I know that he passed through the minds of my community; that is not meaningless.
Flynn is with me every day. In a fleeting moment when I can see him in my mind's eye or feel the weight of him in my arms or in a memory of carrying him deep in my womb. His birthday is different than every other day, it is a time when the world slows down, just the way it did for the days and weeks following his death. I allow for the feelings that whether valid or not still come to me. There is the disappointment and shame in my body's deficiency. The sorrow in only holding him for half an hour before doctors would take me away to save me (not him). The guilt and tragedy in my recovery overlapping with his final heartbeat - I was not there when he died. Ultimately it always comes back to the feeling of failure in being a mother that could not save her child. I need his time so that I can give back to myself the other 364 days of joy.
Flynn - On the way home your brothers argued over who you loved more while they discussed how much they loved and missed you.
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