Today is Magnus’s 5th Birthday. He has been looking forward with much anticipation to turning FIVE! As we celebrate him, of course I think of Isabella. How she’d be ONE now and in the middle of the tissue paper and balloons and pulling up onto everything.
Magnus has been most vocal and questioning about Isabella’s death. I know he would seem so much bigger to me (more than he already does) as a big brother. He still talks about her. Remembers her. He was the most outwardly upset in those first few months following her death. Where was she? When was she coming back? Why had he not gotten to hold her or see her? So much to grieve. He is my most sensitive child, and the youngest so he doesn’t mind telling me what he’s thinking or feeling (still…)
He’d be an amazing Big Brother. And now I know he will never get to be in that role. These things are so hard to handle.
I often think of those first twenty weeks. When we knew we were pregnant, had heard the strong heartbeat and breathed a sigh of relief. Anticipating all that was to come for our family. A new life. This would be Mike’s and my first child together. And I struggle now with the cruelty of it all.
How we weren’t married. She wasn’t expected or planned. But she was so wanted and loved from the very, very beginning. A surprise- but filled us with joyful anticipation nonetheless. And we didn’t get to keep her nearly long enough. And I miss her and all the dreams I held for her every single day.
I’m forty-one now. We don’t plan on having more kids. I’m a complete nervous wreck over the idea of getting pregnant again- with all the odds continuing to stack against me. And with Isabella’s diagnosis- out of nowhere and for no reason, I just don’t feel at peace about it.
So my Magnus will be the last. The sweet boy who eats as much as a grown man. He loves to read with me and play with sister and wrestle with Gavin until he cries and can’t take any more! Next year will bring kindergarten! He’s lost alot in the past few years, but he’s so mature and easy-going and I don’t ever want to tell him to not share his feelings or be “brave” or “man-up.”
He loved to lay on my chest as a baby, toddler and even now- we still rock from time to time. He’s my helper in the kitchen, and helps me weed and water the flowers and pick up limbs. I’m so honored to be his mother. I never would have guessed what his five little years of life would see. But, we’ve made it through.