Every year, I get excited to see everyone again, but I also get anxiety. Talking about her always brings tears to my eyes. I feel emotions of sadness, regret, guilt, missed opportunities, and confusion. I say I have found closure, but honestly, I think I am lying to myself. I am not sure what I have found if anything through losing a friend I didn't get to say good-bye to. With it fast approaching, my anxiety is doubled, paired with pain for my own son.
As I think more and more about Danica and all the birthdays she is watching from above instead of physically partaking with us, I thought about my own 25th birthday party last year. I started to go through my pictures again. It brought back many memories, then it hit me...
It was October. I found out I was pregnant in November. I am not one to drink much, if I drink at all. I don't even have alcohol in my house. My husband does not buy beer ever. We are just not that kind of people. His weakness is 5-hour energy drinks and Mt. Dew. Mine are lattes. Usually if I do drink it is because we are out at a friend or family function; some kind of special and rare event. I usually only have one drink, like a pina colada or strawberry daiquiri. I sometimes even order it without alcohol because it masks the taste of the delicious strawberries; the whole reason why I order it in the first place.
On my birthday night, friends and I went downtown. I drank, more than one. More than two. I had a ton of fun with some great friends. Yet I cannot help but to think that because of my choices that night, Elijah's life was put to an end before it could barely start. Is God punishing me?
I feel like I am 100% responsible for the things Elijah is going through. All of the physical deformities, the spina bifida, even the triploidy. I feel like I have murdered my own son. I am a murderer.
Looking back at the pictures from that night, I get more and more angry with myself seeing a drink in my hand. With every sip, I am leading Elijah closer and closer to his grave. My own selfishness for one night of "fun", sinful fun, was at the expense of my own son. It could have even effected my other son Paighton, without even realizing it until now. What have I done?!
I remember from that night also that when we all got back to my house, I missed my son Paighton so much, I went into his room and woke him up. It was about 3 A.M. He was upset at first, but then happy to see me. He came out to the living room and "partied" with me and my friends. When I say "partied", I mean in a way a toddler would party. He is such a ladies man. He showed the girls how to have REAL fun, that is with his toys and lots of kisses. He even challenged my girlfriend's boyfriend for rights to her attention. He is such a ham.
This is one picture I do like from that night. My son, around people who love him unconditionally...
Needless to say... he went to bed very soon after this picture was taken. He was tired!
