My son Lennon was born still a little over three years ago today. A few weeks shy of his due date, he entered into this world, and I was made to pack a lifetime of love into the few precious moments I shared with him.
There is no love like a parent has for their child. Conversely, there is no pain like a parent who has lost their child.
Words fail to describe the Earth-shattering moment when you come to know that your once-thriving child has somehow left this world before you.
Yet that bond, that love, forever remains in-spite of the physical absence.
My heart is always searching for my son, in the faces of my living children, in the sounds of laughter at the playground, in the photographs that hold the smiling face of them before me.
My heart always aches for my son. A constant dull ache that is ever-present.
A daily reminder that he is not in my arms, that I am not with him.
An ache that reminds me all too often that I may never be whole again.
My heart is always yearning for my son. Wanting desperately for a reality that will never be, to place a kiss on his cheek, to watch him grow along with his brothers, to see him both triumph and fail.
My heart is full of unanswerable questions – how did this happen? Could I have saved him? Was he in pain?
Questions I so often torment myself with as I agonize over the last few moments and days I held my son before he passed.
Lastly, my heart is full of love. A love so strong that time and space will do nothing to tarnish it.
A love so pure that it was created the moment I knew of his existence and will carry on until the end of mine.
A love that has the power to rebuild, to carry on and find joy even when it seems impossible.
What matters to me as a parent in loss is that I spread his name, share his story, and show the world our love. His memory is all I have, and I carry him with me in every breath, every day.
This holiday season, not only will Lennon be on my mind but also, every single baby who has gone too soon and every loss parent who knows what grief can do to a heart.
We are all a part of this community of strong, resourceful, empathetic humans who have withstood the unimaginable. Just remember always to give yourself grace.
Allow yourself to feel all the feelings, to be sad in what maybe should be a joyful moment.
Lastly, share your heart and the memory of your little one with anyone you trust with it.
You never know just who you can help when you share the gift of your grieving heart.
Morgan McLaverty, a world traveler that has taken roots in southern New Jersey where her husband Sean was born and raised. Now, a stay at home mother, she cares for her three living boys; Gavin Cole(5), Rowan Grey(3) and Holden Nash (1). She also is a mother to Lennon Rhys. Lennon was born still at thirty one weeks and five days. His loss spurred on a need in Morgan to write her feelings, share her grief and help others in the process. She hopes her words will help shed the silence and taboo nature of discussing pregnancy and child loss.