Yesterday was Nathaniel's six month birthday. It was the first thing that I thought as soon as I woke up.
Six months old. Six months not old. Six months lost. Six months gone.
I missed him. Fiercely. But not in the way that I was howling. I had howled the day before.
Yesterday, and today, I missed him from a place of love, which is easier to bear. I just love him so much, and I can feel the openess of the love and belonging. Today, I even felt happy, simply because I was not in excruciating pain.
We bought a farm. The 25th of January, six months after Nathaniel was born and died, was the first day that we owned it. It's a small farm on an island. We went out there today and I just cried. It's all about Nathaniel.
I cried while I was out there and wished that I had my baby strapped onto me in some way - in a sling or backpack. Some way to hold him and feel his little body and warmth. I wish I had a collection of little hats for his head.
I think about everything I want to show Nathaniel on the farm.
I wish I could teach Nathaniel about chickens and rabbits. We could start seeds togethers and grow a tremendous garden of flowers and vegetables. Raise a goat or a lamb or a horse.
It's all about him. It's all about Nathaniel. The farm is all about finding ways to keep him near.