Had this poem placed in my box today: 

My mom is a survivor,
or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying,
when all the others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands upon a beach that never wash away,
I watch over my surviving mom who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others, a smile of disguise.
But through Heaven's open door,
I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with my death, to keep my memory alive.
But anyone that knows her, knows it's her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom through Heaven's open door,
I try to tell her that angels protect me now and forevermore.
I know that doesn't help her, or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, call to her and show her that you care.
For no matter what emotion she may feel,
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal.

I could have written this myself. It tears me down and brings me to such deep sobs, so true. This has been a hard week. Our babysitter and the boys' teacher, Jennifer, sent me pictures of Sawyer the other day. Not great pictures, but pictures that show him helping to clean up the daycare. That's what he was - a helper. He always picked up toys, took out the trash, fed the animals. Always a pistol, but such a blessing as well. She then sent me a video where he shushes everyone and then listens for the door to the daycare and says, "Mommy!" I miss that sound so much it hurts. I just want my baby back. I know it's not right, or even possible, but sometimes I wish we would've just kept him in the hospital so I could just hold him and kiss him. Near the end they transferred him to a bed so I could like down with him. I want to be there again - lying in that bed, rubbing one hand through his hair and the other over his pudgy little hands, singing to him...I want it back.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird,
And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring,
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass,
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat,
And if that billy goat runs away,
Mama's gonna love you anyway."
My mom sang it to me when I was young and I sang it to the boys all the time. I can't sing it to Logan anymore without crying.

When we first found out that we were expecting, Logan was at the doctor's with us. We didn't think he was paying much attention, but when we left, he asked if the baby the doctor was talking about was in my belly. A little later that afternoon he asked, "Mommy, is the baby gonna die too?" Broke my heart all over again. A few weeks ago we were leaving Chili's and after I put Logan in the car, I went to shut his door, and he said, "No!" He was watching two little kids play on the grass. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "Nothing. I just like watching brothers and sisters play together. They're lucky to have a brother and sister." He is so thoughtful, sentimental, sweet, and also broken-hearted. He's handling everything so much better than Matt and I, but we still know that he hurts inside too. He misses his bossy baby brother as much as we do.

Sawyer, you are so loved. You are so missed. I want you back. Please, come hold my hand at night. Wipe mommy's tears away and kiss me on the cheek. Let me know that you're here watching over your surviving mommy. I haven't had a dream of you in such a long time. I need to pick you up, see your beautiful eyes, have you hug my neck, and let you know I love you. Face to face. Come visit me. I miss you baby.