It's not his birthday, it's just a missed milestone.
January 2nd, 2016.
The day Sebastian was expected to be born. He may have come early, he may have come late, so I cannot say that that date was definitely the day he would have arrived..
Yet, when I woke up all I could feel in my chest was tightness. All I could feel was heartbreak.
I cried non stop and asked James "do you think I would have been at the hospital by now? what time do you think he would have been born?". I couldn't help it. I had to wonder about all the 'what if's'.
All I wanted to do was sit and cry. curl into a ball and wish my little boy was with us. I spent the morning doing just that; I hugged the cold plastic box his ashes are in and whispered songs and words of love. I listened to the recording of his heartbeat and wished more than anything that he was with me.
I would give up the world just to have months of sleepless nights because he was unsettled; I would do anything just to have him here - putting up with anything would have been worth it.
Midday came round and James suggested we went for a drive. So we drove to the beach, the same beach we went to when we were told he would die. We again walked along it, collected shells and some sand to go in a little frame I am putting together. We explored the rock pools and I wrote his name on a rock with a piece of chalk. I wish I took a photo of it. It was a nice afternoon and I spent many hours looking up to the sky and talking to him.
These few months have been so difficult and I am surprised we have been able to get through it. I cry everyday, usually when I am alone. I cry because I miss him, because I think of his beautiful smile he had, because he never got to experience the world like he should have and because I catch a glimpse of something beautiful and unusual that I like to think is a gift from him.