I cried again yesterday.
After having a great day at work and getting some writing done, I settled on the couch in our living room. Shiloh was already in bed, and I was beginning to put together a shadowbox together for him – an idea I got from a friend on Facebook. I laid out the shadowbox and opened the container of pearl tipped pins. When everything was set, I went to rummage through our filing cabinet for his first diaper and his hospital bracelet. Afterward, I snuck into his room to get his first shoes and outfit he came home wearing from the hospital NICU. They were nowhere to be found. Panic swept over me and I flipped the entire apartment upside down. I pulled bags and boxes out of our closet and emptied out all six of his dresser drawers. After calling my mom and texting my cousin, I realized I mistakenly sent them in a bag of some of Shiloh’s clothes that he’s grown out of.
I felt like a bad mom. How could I have sent them in a bag? I knew how important they were. I felt irresponsible and even if I was going through chemo – I was still disappointed in myself as a mother. On my next trip to see family, I’ll be able to get his first baby shoes and outfit from my cousin. My mom was on the phone with me and told me not to be too upset about it and how she too struggled with thinking back on how hard everything was during that time – that we all did the best we could and I was the best mom I could be.
In the middle of the night, I rolled over to Kevin to see if he was awake. His arm encircled me as I asked him a question that has been in my mind for days, “Will you take care of Shiloh if I die?”
“Of course, but you won’t die,” he said.
“You’re right. I’m going to live and grow old with you,” I said.
This is the lowest I’ve felt.
**My dad just texted me out of the blue as I was writing this: “Peace..think Happy THOUGHTS”** How did he know?