Matthew David Choate
Born: June 7th, 2003
Died: September 23rd, 2003
Days on earth: 108
Aaron Michael Choate
Born: May 19, 2009
Days on earth: 108
I have been waiting for this day.
Hoping for it.
Dreading it.
So many people don’t get why it even matters to me.
My answer:
It just does.
It matters a lot.
Aaron reaches 108 days on the earth today.
The same number of days his older brother lived before dying of SIDS.
108 days.
That doesn’t seem very long, does it?
It’s not.
Especially when you are talking about an entire lifetime for someone; when you consider that it has been 2,171 days that we have gone without our sweet, sweet baby boy to hold and kiss and cherish.
While 108 days doesn’t seem very long at all in comparison to 2,171 days, it was absolutely long enough for my wee baby boy to imprint his soul on my heart so deeply I will never let go.
That part didn’t take long at all-it happened the instant I saw him. He was MINE. My strong, sweet, red headed little man.
My Little Bug.
108 days of love and wonder and joy was all we were given with him.
So few blissful days with Matthew, so many dark ones without.
I look down at Aaron and feel so much happiness my heart hurts. I see his cute round eyes, his little nose, and watch all his adorable movements, coo’s and smiles and it lifts me up more than I ever thought I could be again.
I took this video, not only because I adore my baby but it is for a very pointed illustration so that you can try to understand me. It’s short (and cute) so please…watch it?
He’s adorable, no? This stage of life is so precious and sweet that I wish I could stay up 24/7 just to watch every single second of it. I cannot see this without thinking about my Matthew. How similar they are to me.
How I love them both so much.
How Aaron is still here.
How Matthew is not.
He’s not here because he died.
At 108 days.
One moment he was as alive and sweet and precious and HERE as much as Aaron is in this video; I blinked and he was dead and cold and more still and quiet than any baby should ever be.
HE DIED.
MY LITTLE SON DIED.
I still cannot comprehend it sometimes. Sometimes I will say it over and over and type it over and over and still, I cannot make myself believe that those words belong in my life, my history.
Sitting here thinking about the little one I lost squeezes my heart with a hurt so intense I can’t breathe. So sharp that I just want to run and run and RUN from it.
Holding Aaron’s tiny warm body to my chest listening to his sweet sounds I remember how I sat in a trauma bay holding my quiet and still little one and felt the heat leave his body and the terrible sound of the last bits of oxygen exiting it and I cannot fathom how I survived it.
How did I survive Matthew dying?
I get asked that question all the time.
I ask myself the same question regularly:
How did I live through burying my child?
How did I survive something that horrifying?
HOW AM I STILL BREATHING WHEN MY BABY IS NOT?
How, how, HOW?!
The truthful answer?
I have no idea.
It certainly wasn’t what I had in mind.
It certainly wasn’t my intent.
That is a story for another day, though.
But…that day is coming.
Soon.
I’m finally brave enough to talk about it.
But not today.
Today is enough of a struggle.
I didn’t want today to be about my sorrow and fear and pain.
I wanted it to be about my joy that Aaron is HERE.
HERE WITH ME.
ALIVE.
For which I am more grateful than most of you have any idea.
It’s just hard.
So hard that some days that I feel like I can’t take a breath because my grief has taken up every molecule in my body and all I want in the world is to be with my little one and rage and scream and cry that I cannot.
It is still so hard.
STILL.
Even after 2,171 days.
I have held up these 108 days so much better than I thought I would. There has been much less anxiety and fear than I anticipated.
Today was going to be a joyful day of celebration for my son and the life he is living with me and I expected it would be. However, I have learned that expectations often get the middle finger in the grieving process. You have to take what is in front of you and deal with it.
And what is in front of me on day 108 is sobbing, pain and sharper sorrow for the loss of my baby than I was prepared for.
So, I will deal with that today.
I will allow myself to be sad.
And come day 109?
I hope to have joy.
Filed under: 
I completely forgot how amazing tiny little coos could be. Thank you for sharing that…and here’s hoping its a little easier TOMORROW.
Loralee: I love you. You are true blue, you share so much of yourself with us, I can’t thank you enough. And I don’t know how you did it and how you still do it, I don’t think I could. But here you are! And you will have joy in your life, you will. Big hug.
I’m sorry but I hope the joy you deserve is just around the corner. That video was sweet beyond compare. Hugs.
I *get* that it shouldn’t be important but it just is. This is a milestone no one wants to celebrate, or in your case, mourn. But Day 109 WILL come. And thousands more after that. Embrace these blessings in your life!
I have no idea of the pain that you must feel! You truly are such a much stronger person then you yourself credit for. These post breaks my heart but it’s something that needs to be out there, something you need to let go. Recently we had a friend that carried her baby full term. She felt the baby move the day before. She started having contractions, then went in to have the baby and there wasn’t a heartbeat. How can that happen? I just don’t understand sometimes how God can take the life of a child. I’m sure you’ve asked the same questions a million times. Lots of love to you today! Aaron is amazing, he is a blessing to you and your family!
weeping
Oh Loralee, I have felt so much of what you wrote here. Our beautiful daughter passed away a year and a half ago. I am now pregnant with our second, a son. I have had so much fear and anxiety, and honestly I have been scared to death that I will lose it completely once he’s here. You wrote, “I have held up these 108 days so much better than I thought I would. There has been much less anxiety and fear than I anticipated.” These words are like a lifeline for me today. Maybe I’ll survive the first few days, weeks, months also. Thank you for this.
I am so sorry your adorable red-headed son is not here with you. The way you write of him just exudes love. You’re in my thoughts today.
Huge warm hug
I can feel your heart. I am so sorry for the loss you’ve experienced. Your son Aaron is gorgeous. I smiled through the entire video…my son, Forrest, is only 10 days older than your Aaron. What a precious, beautiful time in a baby’s life.
May you be full of peace and may you be utterly aware of how many people are thinking of you, praying for you, and just cyber-hugging you. :) Joy will come.
I just found you today through Prairie Mama. My thoughts are with you along your journey.
I love you. more than I can say here.
Honey. Joy tomorrow, peace today.. soak it all in.. you make the most of it, it is who you are and so much more.
I MISS COOS.
woman.. that right there, that video.. dammit.. my uterus is screaming at me and my bewbs are aching.
DAMMIT LL.
Hang in there.
Thinking of you and wishing you both comfort and joy.
I cannot fathom your conflicting pain and happiness. I’m sending peaceful thoughts your way.
PS Your baby is absolutely adorable. I just want to kiss his cheeks!!
(((hugs)))
He’s gorgeous. YOU’RE gorgeous. Keep looking ahead to tomorrow. It will be so much better than today.
My best friend in life is my ‘sister’ Melinda. Her son dies 8 years ago in a tragic accident in Utah while they were landscaping their yard. She lives it every day. She wonders every day. She gets angry and sad and confused every day.
But, she has 3 sons. One born 2 weeks before her son’s death, and one born 5 years ago. They know their brother, they love their brother and they understand that he is still very much a part of their family.
Some days she can get out of bed. Others she cannot. She lives for the joy and tries to remember those days versus the sorrowful ones. She would be the first to tell you it never goes away, but she would also tell you that loving Aaron as she loves her sons, all four of them, is the best thing she can do to heal her heart.
So take the time you need. Some days more than others. Rejoice in the precious moments. There will be many more.
I stumbled onto your blog from someone else (your formula post, no less, thumbs up), (one of those click through type of days). I’m very sorry for your loss. I really and truly can’t even imagine. It makes me want to hug my children really tight.
I don’t understand how things like this can happen, but it’s a major fear of mine. I was freaked about SIDS with my son, and now my daughter, who was born the day before Aaron (funny, I call her my little sweet pea too). I know there is nothing anyone can say to make your heart feel less heavy.
Sending tons of love. You’re in my thoughts. *squishy hugs*
Sending lots of (((HUGS))) to you!!!
XOXO
Loralee – You are an amazing woman and you have suffered the most crippling loss. When I see the parallels in little Kairi’s babydom (yes, I’m making up words.) to Gracie’s and I grieve for the time I missed with Gracie. I cannot even begin to fathom what this must be like for you.
I can’t help but wonder now that Aaron has made it this far, how will it be once he is beyond that parallel? I don’t know if I’m making any sense. I hope that doesn’t sound insensitive, because it is certainly not meant to be in any way whatsoever.
Anyway, I wish you the best for day 109 and beyond. I look forward to new videos of little Aaron. He is truly a beautiful, beautiful boy and I am so happy that you have him. *hugs for you and the softest baby kisses for Aaron*
I can only imagine your pain, but I want you to know that I am thinking of you and praying for your comfort. Aaron is beautiful and a wonder. I loved that smile at the end. My wish for you is to have many great days ahead with Aaron while honoring Matthew. I am so sorry for your loss and having to experience this difficult day.
:( I think I’m going to go poke my baby, so he’ll wake up, then I can cuddle him.
Every mother out there, who reads you, knew this day was coming. Maybe not on a day to day waiting type of thing, but when I opened up this post I KNEW.
Every mother knows about dates.
How could we not? It’s who we are. The mama lions. You are still here because Aaron was coming, and he needed you to be here.
The video was lovely.
The rend in your heart may slowly close. But the scar will always be there. And, we know.
love,
julie
****HUGS**** He’s beautiful. And for the record, this is the very first blog post EVER that made me cry.
And here’s to 108 + infinity more days.
And yes, he IS adorable, just deliciously delicious.
Loralee, hugs; he is so darling; the video is precious. I sit here, trying to be thoughtful in my comment, but really just wanting to let you know that I care, that I’m glad you have sweet Aaron and incredibly sad you have had to spend 2171 days without your precious Matthew. Again, hugs
Oh Loralee, I’m so sorry. Words can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am…I only wish that I could take away some of the sorrow so that you didn’t have to deal with it because you’ve dealt with it long enough. But I know I can’t, and that even if I could there would still be sorrow…but at least there is also happiness, because Aaron is 108 days and he is gorgeous and healthy and a gift. But you already know that.
Aaron is adorable, that video is so sweet. I’m sending virtual hugs and kisses your way, and I wish I could do more for you.
loralee- your strength is immense and powerful… and so is your pain. i’m sorry.
i’m thinking of you.
You are my hero, in the most un-cliche way possible. Seriously, I think you are AMAZING.
108 days is tragically short, but how lucky he was to have spent those days with YOU. But it should have been many, many, many more. For all of you.
So eloquent and so, so sad. Like the 80 before me, I just wanted to send you some love and celebrate with you the aliveness of your baby. Yes, the video was cute but I was crying by the end of it as I continued reading your story.
Hope tomorrow is the happier day, all the more for letting yourself feel and show your sorrow today. I can only imagine how weird/bittersweet it is to have and hold Aaron while remembering Michael; my two boys looked somewhat alike as nurslings and there were moments with my second that I felt I had lost my way in the time/space continuum because holding him and looking at him seemed so familiar yet new.
so much love to you all. xoxoxox
Twelve years ago, my friend Mel’s baby died of SIDS at one week shy of four months. The day my son was as old as he had been, I woke up shaking. I hadn’t been counting. But I knew. And it’s not the same at all and I am not trying to say I understand, but I know the importance of certain days.
I <3 U. Just wanted you to know.
I know I commented on twitter on this post, but it was still in my feed reader, so I thought it was a sign I should give you some more love. I don’t know how you did or do it, but I am so glad you have sweet little Aaron to help you through it. xoxo. You are amazing.
You’ve made it. You are somewhere new. You can do it. I believe. (Hugs)
[...] for. Her baby boy Aaron is now older than his big brother Matthew will ever be. He was taken at 108days old from SIDS. Loralee’s blog is heart wrenching and so honest. You can feel her grief [...]
I hope you have joy, too.
Aaron is SO totally adorable….those cheeks…precious.
He is SO very precious. They both are. I can only imagine how bittersweet your feelings are. And I’m guessing you found some of that joy just looking at your sweet baby’s face.
I hope that you found much joy on day 109…
I think for many of us, there are some days/benchmarks/whatever that come with special and terrible significance, that make us shudder and shake and pray to get past differently this time. And I think that we will always, always note these benchmarks.
I’m so so sorry.