I started to write this a few weeks ago, and after searching for my Facebook post, I was unable to write more, and it has taken me a few weeks to gather my thoughts and emotions.
My birthday was last week, the big 3-6. I struggle with birthdays. Not because I am worried about my age, or growing older, in most ways I embrace that part, happy with the wisdom that comes with it. It's the celebrating life that is hard for me. I love Facebook, I admit it, I do. When I was across country from friends and family in California, it made the distance seem smaller. Then I left my heart in California with so many dear friends, and it allows me to see their kids grow, their faces, their triumphs, and frustrations. After my short stent in teaching, it allows me to stay connected with some of "my kids", which is a such gift. When I lost Koen it instantly brought me comfort and a way to share our devastation with our friends and family.
I posted this just before midnight on May 27, 2013 on Facebook:
On Monday, May 27th, at 8:55pm, Koen Wayne Soper was born. His sweet little heart had already stopped beating long before. He was 2lbs 13oz and 14 3/4 inches of perfection. We were able to snuggle and kiss him before the funeral home picked him up. He was beautiful, curly hair, long eyelashes, and a button nose, just like his big brother. We will love our precious tiny little muffin forever. Thankful that he is in the arms of Jesus.
Ever since May 27th the line between birthdays and death has become blurred. I celebrate for my boys, for Kev, but I find it difficult to extend my joy of birth much beyond my immediate family. I think with time, the band aids covering the wounds over my heart, will heal and turn to scars. But for now, even two years and eight months after Koen's birth, and death, the wound is still raw. Tears are still falling down my cheeks. I still miss Koen. I feel like I should be "better" by now, there is baby at my feet playing as I type and my life is filled with so much joy, but the sorrow remains. I share this in hopes of helping others to understand how far reaching grief is. Sometimes it just doesn't make sense, even to the person grieving. You can't see it always on someone's face, or hear it in their laugh, but it may oddly impact areas of their lives that you can't understand. I find it difficult to send birthday wishes and messages. It isn't personal, it is my own struggle. Now that I have shared, I won't have "Facebook birthday wishes" guilt anymore. I love you, I'm thankful for your life, but its still to hard for me and maybe always will be.
Thankfully, Tobin feels my pain, as the song Happy Birthday makes him cry.
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