Missing him...

I'm having a hard time tonight and I don't know where to turn so an anonymous blog it is. I miss my son. I miss him and everything that he represents. I think about what he would look like, and smell like. I wonder what he would be doing right now. I covet an ultrasound picture I took of him before I went to the clinic. I know, it was stupid, but I snuck an ultrasound picture of him before he died. I have a crystal clear picture of exactly what I did and exactly what he was. Not a piece of tissue, not something that didn't exist. He was my son and he is dead and I miss him. When I feel like this I have no where to go because except for you, dear readers, a very select group of friends ( only one of which have responded to my Hail Mary text tonight, fuck you very much to everyone else) and my soon to be ex-husband, no one knows he ever was. If a child dies in your womb and no one knows he exists, does he make a sound? I don't know but he is definitely missed. I know life would be infinitely worse with him here but what I wouldn't give to hold him just once. I had no say in his conception, its a story I refuse to tell, but I had NO say in it. But I alone made the decision to abort him, drove myself to the appointment, (after showing up early to work of course, no day off for me, before or after), and I'm pretty sure I'm the only person on earth who mourns his passing. And most days and nights I forget that he ever was. And then I have nights like tonight where it hurts to breathe. I cry and cry and cry and I don't know how to fill the emptiness inside. An emptiness I have felt from the moment I came off the Propofol drip and knew he was gone. A mother knows when her womb holds a life inside it, and conversely when it does not. Sometimes I just drink, until I pass out. Because I know tomorrow will be another day and I won't have time to think of him. That of course leaves me with tonight and I'm a wreck. My emotions are raw and I know I would make the same decision if two little pink lines popped up on that test instead of one, but it puts me in an awkward place doesn't it. How do you mourn the child you killed and would kill again without being a hypocrite? How are any of my emotions justified? And will writing this post again expose me to the hateful world of the pro-lifers, who will use this as a rational for outlawing abortion when the fact is my husband would have likely killed me had I stayed pregnant again. The last pregnancy pushed him over the edge of insanity and there's no telling where he would have gone with this one. I chose my life over my sons. This of course makes me a bad mother because in America, the definition of a good mom is one who chooses her child's life over her own. And I also chose my daughter's future over his. The living one over the unborn because I don't care what the religious right has to say: they are not the same, they are not equals. But I miss my son. His ten little toes, his tiny little fingernails. Whether he would have had brown eyes or blue. What gifts I would be picking out this Christmas for him. Maybe Thomas the Tank Engine. Who knows? That decision has already been made and it can not and should not be undone. But I miss my son tonight. And I know I will miss him a thousand other nights to come.