In the beginning, it felt like it was written on my face. I cried in the grocery store, at church, driving in traffic. The timing was rarely convenient, especially considering my eyes would get puffy and my skin red and splotchy from the tears. But when my baby Caleb, born prematurely, died at birth, compartmentalizing grief wasn’t an option. The grief was pervasive.

Now, 15 years later, my body waits for a convenient time to collapse.

Last night was a fundraiser for our elementary school, which I helped plan and got to be the emcee. I love fundraising events! The night was great. We had fun with many friends. But of course it was exhausting. Today I slept in and woke up heavy. With the fundraiser done, now I could reminisce and grieve. Caleb’s 15th birthday is Tuesday.

I didn’t consciously choose to wait until a convenient time to grieve. It just seems the process my body has taken. With two other kids to take care of, and all of every day life happening, my heart waits until I have some time to fall apart. A feat that while convenient, makes me feel guilty.

I wish Caleb were here with me every day, for every special occasion and every normal activity, for watching tv and playing games. I wonder how our family dynamic would change if he were here. I wonder what his favorite food would be, if he’d be a soccer player, or musician, or artist. I wonder if he’d be excited to learn to drive this year.

Losing a child is losing the memories yet to be made, the unknowns of a life not lived, the dreams unfulfilled. It is tiny cracks in my heart every day.

While I can mostly compartmentalize my grief and control my emotions until it’s convenient, Caleb will always be in my heart and on my mind.

Until I get to hold you again, happy birthday Caleb.