We are sneaking up on Henry's birthday. Just two more days and my boy would be two. Last night at a regular potluck dinner with friends, we celebrated the birthday of one of the babies from the spring/early summer 2007 crop, the ones whose mamas I posed with for big belly photos, the ones Henry was supposed to grow up with.
There were three of those babies there last night, one born in March, one just days before Henry, and one two weeks later in June. For months after Henry died I couldn't look at these babies, or I could only give them sidling glances. Now I can watch, I can smile, I can interact. The sadness is not overwhelming during these interactions, but more of a wearying, lingering thing, thinking of Henry and what he should be doing right now.