“Does it make you cry when I mention Otto?” my 7 year old nephew asked me this afternoon. I am always strong in my answers to these kind of questions. I reply “not all the time, sometimes I do cry, but right now I am ok.” I feel like I am all over the map in my emotions. There isn’t a word strong enough to mark my complete and utter hatred for what has happened to my son. I feel I am enduring the most awful punishment for being a bad mom or some older transgression that has marred my life for ever. My subconscious, I think, irrationally thinks that if I am strong and handle this well that he will give him back to me. I get to answer the doorbell once I have endured enough and Otto will be standing there with a big silly grin. He will let out a high pitched squeal as I grab him and hold him as tight as I can. I think without counting how many times a day “Otto I am so sorry.” I worry my sweet boy is so mad at me for messing this up. That God gave me the amazing blessing of not only one child but two and I fell so short he took one away. He decided I didn’t deserve him. Every day God? We have to do this everyday until the end of my life? That makes me so sad that there is no bottom to the sorrow in that. I meet people and they know who I am and just want to give their heart to me and I am strong for them. I am strong for my family. I am strong for all the people who I am blessed to share this life with. I am strong for myself too, don’t let me fool you. I don’t want to think about how terrible this is…like ever. I don’t think my feelings will ever change…I don’t want to think about it, but it comes at me as soon as I stop moving. I will always feel guilty, sad, shame and shock when I think about Otto. I don’t even like to say his name and that feels so terrible too. I don’t want to say my son’s name? What is wrong with me? So no it doesn’t make me sad when you talk about Otto…it makes me sad when I talk about him to myself.