The 6 month mark is looming in front of me, I can see it taunting me with a bright smile. I see my friends children that are about the same age hitting the 6 month mark, and slowly it is killing me on the inside. Days are moving faster than ever before and before I know it 6 months will be here.
I wish I could just see what Ryker would look like, see if his hair darkened or became really red. I guess I will never actually know. I try and talk about Ryker, and I do talk about him, but when ever I do people ask, ‘Oh, how old is he?’ and then I have to answer that dreaded question with something that completely kills any type of question with my favorite phrase, ‘He would have been,’ he would have been nearly 6 months. As soon as I say that people tend not to hear the ‘He would have been,’ and go on to ask me what he has accomplished, and I have to correct them.
In the last month I have opened up my experience to those who I have never met in person, not just over the internet, but face to face, and those are the moments I have come to realise people really do not want to know you have a dead child. They do not want to know that your child would have been nearly 6 months, they do not want to know that he had this hair that was next to gold. Or that his hands where so tiny. They just do not want to know.
Or they only want to know the details. The tiny gritty details so they can gossip later about it. They ask the questions you do not want to talk about. The how did he die, or the it’s so rare that it happens surely something was wrong. They really do not know that it’s not rare. The death of a baby is not rare, it is a common occurrence.
Maybe the 6 months will come and go, and then soon it will be 1 year, then 2, then 3 and then 10. Time has started to speed up, I barely recognize the date half the time. Life has in some ways started to claim back what I was took for granted, time.