So Elliot's headstone was finished today and DH and I went to see it. First off it's not correct, there isn't the vase on it that we paid extra for. This makes me sad for the simple reason that this is the last thing we bought for Elliot and they didn't get it right. My poor angel can't even get the proper headstone! Nothing in his life went right, why should I have expected this to?
While we were standing there, the ground looked so soft where he lay...every inch of my being wanted to dig through the soft ground, with my bare hands, no matter how long it took, to pull my baby from the earth and hold him one last time, breath life into his still body, bring him back to me, hear him cry for the first time, make him smile. Isn't it funny the way our minds work in moments of desperation? It took every ounce of strength I had to not bend down and start digging, throwing dirt everywhere to get to my baby. My precious boy lay just beneath the soft earth, in that ungodly plastic box they call a coffin.
This has been the first time I went to his grave since we buried him, DH too. We both broke down.
Did you know they don't make coffin's for babies. I wish we didn't need them, but to bury your precious child in what looked like a plastic box still makes me angry. He deserved better than a plastic box for his resting place, a FUCKING plastic box!
And to top it off, the thought of finalizing everything with the headstone being in place, the same week I thought I was going to give birth just kills me. I am supposed to be holding my little boy in my arms for the first time, holding him, staring at him in his crib, not standing over his grave, weeping for him!