On June 4th, when I awoke from surgery and the doctor stood over me saying, "The baby didn't make it, the baby didn't make it", I thought I was living a dream. I remember, at some point during that weekend, asking my husband if he felt like he was in a dream too.
I continued to think about the fact that just a week ago I was living a normal life, was so excited about this life growing inside me, was completing a baby registry for my upcoming baby shower, was picking out colors for our nursery, and had just seen the doctor a few days ago and was told "you are doing great". How could my life change so quickly? How could I wake up one day and everything slap me in my face?
How is the biggest question, but it did. I quickly went from focusing on simple things like the colors of a nursery or what the theme was going to be, to medical terms like Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome and Hydrops. I went from talking with friends and family about whether I was having a boy or a girl and baby names, to asking them to pray that our baby would live another day.
In a matter of eight days, I learned what most people take their whole lives to learn. I learned that life is the most precious gift of all, it truly is a miracle. I learned that our time living needs to be spent with friends, family, and appreciating and taking in everything the world has to offer.
June 4th was the worst day of my entire life, as I lost the dream that I had for so long. I lost my baby, my son, my Wyatt. But June 4th was also the day that I truly began living. It was the day that my life changed for the better. The day that I began to see things the way we are meant to see them, as gifts not to be taken for granted.
Although my Wyatt is no longer here in my arms, he is still with me. He shows me this everyday as I remember to appreciate the small gifts in life. I seem to find myself listening closer to the birds singing, taking in the beauty of a butterfly as it passes me, and looking to the sky to wonder where my little boy may be. I no longer stress out about small things that will mean so little when I am gone. I continue to find reason for everything, as I know there is a plan which is out of my control.
My Wyatt and I share not only our birthdays, June 6, but we share something much more. The day that Wyatt received his wings, was the same day I began to appreciate life.
*** The photos were taken in my front yard yesterday. I have this beautiful butterfly that continues to return day after day. I have to believe it is a sign from my Wyatt.