It happened to me after all...

I guess I sort of never felt like it would pertain to me. The whole idea that when a new child is born after you lose one, it brings with it all sorts of emotions about your sweet lost baby and takes you places in the not-so-distant-past that had seemed to be losing a little of their sting.
 When Aidyn first came home, he would crack his eyes halfway open (I only ever saw Zoe's eyes opened halfway) and I would want him to open them wide, to remind me that he is well and healthy. 
 Now, when he cracks those eyes half open when he is deep asleep, I look. I see her more clearly in my mind. I can see that he resembles her a little bit, which I can't see when his eyes are open, as I have no memories of her with hers open.
 I often see him and feel utter joy while at the same time feel an ache in my soul for what I was robbed of with Zoe. I can see it in color and real time. It's a strange duality.
 I constantly check in on his breathing, and like in my womb when I would suddenly wonder if he was ok,   and he'd give me a gentle nudge as if to say, "It's ok mom", he now gives me a little wiggle, a curl of his tiny fist that says "I'm okay, I'm breathing and happy and fine".
 It's sad and beautiful at the same time, that I don't get the normal, 'new baby experience' and that I certainly didn't get what I had dreamed of for the 'new-baby-after-loss-hospital-experience'. I didn't receive a single flower and the N.I.C.U. held my baby hostage as I struggled with the similarities between his birth and Zoe's, but I did finally get this precious boy out of the N.I.C.U. and now he is here with me.
 I  never expected these emotions I had heard so much about. Somehow, I suppose because I grieve so differently than most in this journey, these feelings snuck up on me. Now, a girl who rarely cries, and rarely slows down, is in tears part of the day and feeling a bit shocked and overwhelmed to be feeling this now while I'm too busy to properly lick my wounds...