Memories of the future

Something I need to figure out how to do--How do I give up on the future that Luke was supposed to be in?

The things that hit me the hardest, that I think about on a daily basis, are the tiny reminders of things that were said and done before all of this happened...when our future had Luke with us. The enormity of losing him...suffocates me sometimes.  Usually when someone dies, you remember all of the memories with them.  The things you did together.  Friendships.  Family time.  That's why this situation is the most backwards thing ever.  The only thoughts and experiences we ever got to have with our son were those we imagined and foresaw in our heads.

I feel like my entire life is going to be divided on a line--Pre-Luke, and Post-Luke.

In some ways, it's a blessing, because none of it was real.  But in other ways, it's the worst possible torture to think about all that might have been.  Yesterday I had a meltdown when I came home from shopping with Jeff at Target and Old Navy.  It was the same Old Navy that I'd shopped for maternity clothes at--and I couldn't wait till I could buy cute kids clothing for Luke there.  Then there was Target.  Mom, Jeff and I had actually JUST been at that Target the Friday before we found out we'd lost him.  We were shopping for some random things for him--Diapers, wipes, a few things that Mom still needed for her house when she'd take care of him.  Jeff insisted we get this really cute hooded towel with a shark on it.

Yesterday I saw so many Moms pushing their babies in strollers.  With their diaper bags and snacks in tow.  That was supposed to be me.  Us.  But everything that I'd built up to expect in my head...Is never going to be real with Luke.

Nearly everyday I go in Luke's room.  And the thing that hurts me to look at the most is all of his clothes hanging in the closet--washed and ready for him to wear.  They're organized by size--from Newborn to almost 24 months.  We got so many cute things.  And I'd imagined him wearing all of them.  I couldn't wait till he could fit into the shirt we bought him at Coachella.  Or the Angels onesie.

We were finally going to be using the family bassinet with him.  

Auntie Ali's special nickname for Luke was going to be Jemaine.  When we couldn't figure out what to name him, Ali had suggested names that start with J, since Jeff and I are both Js as well, and the funniest name we could come up with was Jemaine (since we are sort of obsessed with Flight of the Conchords and all).  It was never serious, but surely that would be his nickname. 

I think back to my last day in the office.  When I said goodbye to Joey, he said how he already felt like he knew Luke since, ya know, they were already Coachella-going-concert-buddies and all.

We were finally going to join the realm of people who have kids.  Something I've watched from afar for a long time, but would finally be able to understand what it's actually like.  

It's thoughts like that--that slay me.  When I get too deep in my head with those thoughts, the tears come.  And there's so many thoughts that trigger that.  Now, we're parents.  But with empty arms.  I don't even know what that means, really.  If your hopes and dreams for your child never have a chance to come to be, how exactly can you call yourself a parent?

Deep down, I know Luke will always be alive in my heart.  And physically, he'll always be a part of me.  But giving up on the future...but still having memories of thinking about what it would have been like?  It's the worst mindfuck I can think of.

Tonight is October 15--Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  Tonight, we''ll light a candle for our little guy and hope that he can somehow share that moment with us....

I miss you, Luke.