I have a love-hate relationship with October.
I love this time of year. I love the leaves changing, the cool air, the pumpkins, the cozy feeling in the air. I really do.
But then I remember what October means to me.
October is the month I had my son.
October is the month I held him.
October is the month I said hello and goodbye all at once.
October is the month my whole world changed forever.
And October 29th will always be the day my heart broke in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Sometimes I wish I could just enjoy fall without the heaviness that comes with it. Without the memories creeping in. Without knowing that the anniversary of the worst day of my life is getting closer and closer.
Everyone else sees October.
I see my baby.
I see the little boy I should be watching grow.
I see the life that should have been.
I feel the empty space where he should be.
I hate that a month I love so much will forever carry so much pain.
But I will keep saying his name.
I will keep loving him.
I will keep missing him.
And I will keep carrying him with me through every October for the rest of my life.
Because October gave me my son.
And October took him from me.
I’ll never stop loving my October baby.
I’ll just never stop wishing he were here. 🍂💙
Malaki. My son. Forever 38 weeks and 6 days. Forever my baby.
