Tag Page UnspokenGrief

I Closed My Eyes for Five Minutes

3 AM. His skin too warm. I rocked him, sang to him, pressed my lips to his forehead—just a fever, just a long night. I blinked. Just for a moment. When my eyes opened, his little body was rigid, his breath gone. The ambulance came. The doctors tried. But I already knew. Eleven months of firsts. A lifetime of lasts. People say it wasn’t my fault. They don’t understand—guilt isn’t about logic. It’s about the blink. The five minutes I’ll replay forever. I never had another child. Not because I couldn’t. Because he was my son. And some loves don’t need a sequel. (His birthday is tomorrow. The air still smells like him sometimes.) #UnspokenGrief #Motherhood #LivingWithGhosts