This is Halloween

You look around and you see all these wonderfully adorable children in costumes. Pumpkins everywhere, candy galore, and all things wonderfully fall. When I look around though, I see a missing infant. I see a costume I never bought, a cute pumpkin maybe, or a really cool mommy and me costume. I see myself hiding from the festivities in order to avoid the images in my head of me showing off my adorable little bundle of joy. Instead of the oo's and ah's of complete strangers over how precious my son is for his first Halloween, I give out tears and howls of pain, grief, and sorrow. Halloween is supposed to be a time of fun, excitement, and pure joy. Running from house to house, going to fall festivals, showing off the costume you made or bought. Mine is hiding in my bed, laying on a tear stained pillow, trying to find a dry spot just before you fill it with tears as well. Mine is avoiding pictures online of how much fun your other children are having, because there is supposed to be one more. Mine is not wanting to acknowledge the holiday at all, but then feeling bad because doing so would hurt your older child. Mine is wishing so badly that heaven would let me borrow him for just one night of joy. Mine is realizing there will forever be this missing piece, and wondering if I'll ever enjoy holidays again. Halloween is fun, mine is painful.