July 11, 2001

Hello, beloved…

Today I went to the mall and got all the pictures of you from The Picture Place.  They are all so beautiful, but it hit me like a rock.  I had forgotten that the photos we had taken home last month weere only some of the pictresof you.  I tried not to cry.  The manager of the place was vvery sympathetic – he will go into my prayers, so I would like for you to say a prayer for him, too.

I saw a five-month-old baby at the prison today, and my armes ached to hold him.  I miss holding you so much.  I miss every thiny little thing about you.  I will never see your ears again.  I feel as though I never fully explored your ears, the undersides of your toes, the backs of your knees…

I have your forehead committed to memory.  All those fine, fine little hairs.  ANd now I remember that you had peach fuzz on your ears, too.  Fat little wrists.  I miss them.  I miss sucking on your elbow and your cheek.  I really miss nursing you.  I can’t even remember what it looked like.  I remember that your little tongue would curl up, and I think I remember that your jaw would work up and down, but I’m not sure.  Sometimes, I would have to put a finger in your mouth to break the suction.  It made a sucking noise.  I will try to dream of nursing you.

I love you.


Writing “Mommy” comes so naturally to me.   There is no joy like baby-joy.  It is pure.


July 10, 2001

Hello, happy baby!

I really should be sleeping because I have to get up at 8, but I need to write to you.  Not “need” as in I’m supposed to, but “need” as in I feel a burning desire to communicate with you.  Of course, I miss you.  I always do.  I sent your daddy some more photos of you today.  I was at first apprehensive, but then I figured that even if some one steals them, he got to see your sweet, sweet face.  And I can always get more copies made.  I’m not going to write anything sad or depressing tonight – tonight I just want to think happy thoughts about you.  I can go to sleep pretending to hold you.  And hopefully, I will dream of nursing you, or of bathing you, or singing to you…

I’d better go before I cry.

I love you so much.


ps – don’t forget to say prayers for Daddy.

My boy Julian

Eight years ago, on June 6, 2001, my boy Julian died. He was five-and-a-half months old; shaken to death by his father. This blog is journal entries that I had written after Julian died, while his father was awaiting trial, and subsequently incarcerated.
I had forgotten about these journals – I know it sounds strange, but stranger still is how the mind creates gaps in memory as a sort of barrier of protection. I have since remarried, my life is nothing like it had been when Julian was alive, and I have done a terrific job of shoving all the painful bits of my memory into the back closet of my mind. It’s time to air them out, so that I can work on healing myself.