I hate today.
I hate that you're not begging me to let you out on the trampoline even though its been raining all night.
I hate that you are not bouncing around the house singing "happy birthday" to yourself.
I hate that you're not demanding to open your birthday presents before breakfast, or ask me to make you chocolate chip pancakes.
I hate that you are not here whining about something. Anything.
I hate that I have no idea what you look like, what you sound like, even what you smell like.
I wish that I could go back to that "today" 7 years ago, and change it all. I would reach out to you, take you from your nicu bed, scoop you into my arms and hold you. If only I could have been able to breathe for you. To hold you.
Today though, I can just sit and think of you and only feel the longing to kiss your cheek and tousle your hair.
My son. Today is the day that culminates our memories of your very short life and all the hopes and dreams that we had for you.
Happy Birthday sweet Oliver.