Since my son was born, there seems to be a collective sigh of relief emanating from those around me.
Last night I confronted someone who was honest enough to confirm my feelings.
Let me set things straight.
My son is not a replacement son.
He is my second son, my third child.
Yes, I buried one, and yes, is still hurts.
He will never, EVER, be the balm to heal my wound.
There is a hole in my heart where my first son, my first child, stored his love, and nothing will ever fill it.
What really matters is that I am ok with that.
I want him to stay there with me always.
I want to carry his memory with me until we meet again.
Please, if you feel that I needed another son to rectify the pain in my life and to prove to you that I have truly moved on, keep it to yourself.
Right now I am happy and content with my life, with my past and with ALL of my children.
Please don’t ruin this moment for me.