While most people celebrate, make resolutions and hope for a better year ahead, we still have not quite figured out how to deal with NYE and the day after. My husband chose to go to sleep early and missed midnight all-together. I stayed up to watch the countdown and start one of the happiest and hardest days of the year all by myself. Jan 1 is our Henry's birthday. When he was born two years ago on New Year's Day, I thought this must be a good sign. I felt it was so special that it could only mean that he would live. And he seemed to be off to a good start. His tiny cry, the only sound I've ever heard come from him, is so vivid and I wish I could hear it again and again. I often wonder what he would look like and be like.
I was surprised by how different people who are close to us behaved, supervised by the good and by the not so good. Some friends have done something very special, and have helped me by doing the things I couldn't. I was too encompassed by my grief, too heavy in my body, barely able to breathe at times. I am so thankful that Henry's memory was kept alive in this way. In stark contrast some of our closest family members have not even said a word, nor called, nor written, instead unloaded their frustrations and anger of daily life during a family lunch yesterday. It makes me sad that a tragic event does not seem enough to bring us closer, but leaves me and my husband wondering and hurt even more. I have tried very hard not to have expectations of what people do, or not do, say or not, but this one is pretty tough.It is our only child's birthday. Why does it matter if he is here or not? A mother remembers the birth of all her children, always, living or not!

