And I don't mean Clayton. Oh, for those first 24-48 hours we oohed and aahed over how much he looked like Clayton, but I think it was only his mannerisms that were reminding us of Clayton. It didn't take long after getting him home for Brian and I to realize that he looks exactly like Shawn. (Especially when he's sleeping since Shawn only opened one eye briefly for us to see). And we aren't the only ones noticing. Friends and family alike who have seen pictures of Shawn or saw him in person recognize it right off without us even suggesting it.
I can't even describe the emotions. At first it was overwhelming sadness. And then the new round of WHY? WHY? WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE??!! Just when you think the scab on the wound is healing up nicely, something reminds you of the hurt and the scab gets ripped right off again. And it ticks me off in the worse way because sweet little Jackson will never know his oldest brother. And for that matter, I get mad all over again that Clayton won't know his own twin. And then it just got plain eerie the first morning Clayton and Jackson were sleeping in the bed next to one another. It was as if Clayton was laying next to Shawn who had never aged. Twice I've even called Jackson Shawn. It must be a totally subconscious act since I didn't even realize I was thinking of Shawn at the moment.
I've since gotten over the initial shock of it, but like my other emotions dealing with the twins, the underlying feeling is just that of bittersweetness. Blessings on one hand with heartache in the other. Blessed with another beautiful boy, heartache of missing my oldest.
I am the mother of three very special baby boys.