We went to visit Sawyer today. His head stone is finally in - it really is ridiculous how long he sat there just a pile of dirt, overgrown with sprouts of grass and weeds. Made me sad to see it always so lifeless. There are headstones there in the baby section completely covered over with dirt. It's just not right. I completely understand a parent's belief that the cemetery is just a place for bones, that it's not really where our babies lie, but it's still just so sad to see stones left to be covered by dust and dirt. I don't really know what I actually expect, it just makes me sad. I was glad to see my baby's face finally above his precious little bones. I just hope life never gets too busy for us to keep alive that beautiful smile on that little rectangular rock.

Seeing parts of the baby cemetery that looked so lifeless, just reminded me of how much life Sawyer had. Not just how much he had left to live, but how much he enjoyed living. He was so full of energy. He just wanted to go swimming. It was his favorite thing. Every morning he would wake up and be so excited to put on his trunks. We had been swimming all morning. I still remember him eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with his floaties on, then finally coming up to me after lunch, holding his arms out, saying, "Off pees." I leaned down, took them off, and set them on the family room floor, not realizing that such a simple action would have such eternal consequences. I don't understand why I can't have that moment back. I just want to make things right, to put his floaties out by the pool where he knew to grab them and ask for help putting them on, where I would have seen the ladder and known that if floaties are off I need to take out the ladder. Fifteen steps to the backyard, and instead I put them down on the family room floor. Four adults in the house, and that precious little blonde boy just wanted to go swimming. It's so hard not going over all of these memories, every day.

I cleaned out his dresser yesterday. Matt and I set up the crib, and we've already gotten a few gifts of clothes for the new baby, so I decided that while I was in a good mood and on a roll setting up for the baby, it would be a good time to open Sawyer's drawers. I opened them once to take out the shirts I wanted for his quilt, and that's the last time they've been opened in the last four months. I did fine until I got to his jammies. It reminded me of the many fights that were had just trying to get that kid into some pants. He never fought putting on his jammy shirts, but he loved to be in undies or pull-ups when going to bed. Such a defiant, strong personality. He won nearly every battle, partly because he had more will power than me, and partly because he was spoiled and I love him more than anything. Moms have that tendency to choose to lose a battle when they know it makes their baby happy. What I wouldn't do to fight those chubby little legs into and out of his pants again.

I hate this roller coaster we live on. There have been many happy moments since after June 9, but each moment still has that veil of misery. Not a day goes by that Sawyer isn't on our minds, but I can now go a whole week without shedding tears, and then it seems that I just can't even think of him without breaking down. So tough this new life we have. Good days, bad days, great days, but always something missing. My baby missing. Missing out on the life he loved so much. He just wanted to go swimming.