11 months.

That’s a long time. And a really short time for a grieving mama and daddy. Everyday that passes seems to only hurt more. We always talk about what Will would act like, who he would look like, and who would he like more?

I know he would have just loved everyone he came into contact with. It’s how we are.

Most of the time lately, healing has begun. God is using this in a mighty way. He is using us. But then sometimes, fear of forgetting Will creeps in. And the devils steals all the joy that healing has brought. Most nights since Will died, I have nightmares. They’re terrible and horrible and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. And lately, the nightmares have gotten worse. I wake up in sweats thinking the past 11 months have been a nightmare. And it gets worse, because I start to fear Will was never here. So it’s like I’ve been in a nightmarish coma for the past almost 2 years and he never even was a part of us.

And then, I look on my nightstand and see him. I see the three of us and all is right (not by a long shot). I’m reminded that he was here, he did live, I did hold him, kiss him, and love him. And we did get to hold him as he went to Heaven.

I’ve always read that time is tough for a mama. Those mamas have no idea how tough time really is for a mama who can’t hold her baby anymore. Time keeps moving and life keeps going on. I have to remind myself of that more than I can count.

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