6 months.

It's been 6 months since Liam died, the same amount of time that he was alive.

I'm especially reflective around significant dates. I go through the series of events that have led me to this moment in my life and it always leaves me stunned in disbelief. How Liam came to be after the doctors gave us a 2% chance at conceiving naturally. How he died after I ruptured PPROM (pre-term premature rupture of the membrane), something that happens in less than 3% of pregnancies. Those are some odds. How my son and I spent 26 days in a hospital bed holding on as tightly as we could to each other while the doctors monitored survival rates, chances of risks and amniotic fluid levels. How one day my baby was safe in my belly and the next I was helplessly birthing him into the world only to die. It's been so much to process, so much to absorb and accept. 6 months after my son's death and I still go about my days wondering what happened? What on earth happened?

Next week I start my second cycle of IVF. My new IVF protocol is more aggressive since the first cycle failed miserably, and yes, the doctor gave us our chances for success. But I know better now. I know that it will either work or it won't. I know that while I put my faith in doctors and technology, some things are just out of our control. There are no guarantees in science, just as there are no guarantees in life.

So we take everything we know, and everything we will never know, we hold each others hand and we take the next step.

***

Have I told you that the flakes are falling here?

We snowshoe in the winter. There's something special about snowy walks in the woods when all you can hear is your breath and your feet shuffling underneath you. J and I have shared magical walks under the stars in the backcountry of Vermont, somewhere i'd like to go again this year.

I'm not one for new year's resolutions, especially after last year. Losing a child puts your life into perspective. This year I take the time to reflect on a year that has forever changed me. On Liam, my son who died before he had the chance to really live. On finding a balance between the two worlds I live in. My world of Liam and my world without him.

One breath at a time. One step at a time.

***

I don't get to talk about Liam very much anymore. Usually, i'm the one who brings him up, and I do, not all the time but I need to talk about my son. I carried him for 6 months, I spent a month in the hospital fighting to save him, and now I'm missing him with all my heart. He's my son. How could I not talk about him? But I realize that most people would rather ignore the truth when the truth is hard. It's easier to ignore Liam's life or try to sugar coat his death by saying something {so completely awful} like "it just wasn't meant to be". Someone told me that during the holidays. As she hugged me she whispered those words in my ear. I'd like to mention that she's a mother of two. A part of me wanted to tell her that she should be careful about what she says, that we're talking about my child here, his name is Liam and he most definitely was meant to be and did in fact be. But I just didn't have the energy to get into it. Especially a few days before Christmas.

That same evening, I went to my support group meeting where I join four other babylost mothers every month in a church basement. In this place our children are safe and they're always acknowledged as they should be. Our group leader asked us about the gifts our babies brought us and when it was my turn to talk about Liam's gifts, my list was longer than I had expected. I kind of surprised myself as I was speaking, it took someone asking me to say aloud all his gifts for me to realize that to this day Liam continues to bring me gifts. He's changed me in so many ways, he's opened up my eyes and even my broken heart to this cruel world. Liam has taught me what's really important in life and how we really don't know what tomorrow will bring. He's taught me not to sweat the small stuff, life is really too short for that. He's taught me that i'm a strong woman but I have my limits and I don't have to be strong or "better" for other people. And Liam continues to teach me about the type of person I want to be and the open, honest and meaningful life I want to lead. In so many ways, my son is teaching me how to really live. I left my meeting with new thoughts to take into the new year. Good thoughts.

It was a hard year. The worst. But i've promised myself to make more of an effort to remember the hope and love and harmony that my son brought me. I won't pretend or deny the pain and guilt and anger that surrounds Liam's death, but I will try to find a balance. I know that people will continue to say hurtful things but I also know that it's my job to protect my son's life and memory. What type of a mother would I be if I didn't want to protect my child?

I want to thank each of you who continues to join me here. I really can't express my gratitude enough for listening, being there and for sharing with me. This blog has been a healing place, i'd even add it to my list of therapies right along with my psychologist and support group. It's a place where i've been able to set my heart free and keep Liam's memory alive. And that feels so good.

Wishing you peace, love and light for the new year friends.