Tomorrow will mark two months since the day of your surgery. I remember that day like it was yesterday, and I can't believe it has been two months.
The evening prior to your surgery, I was up late trying to pack for the unexpected. The doctors said I would be in the hospital for either a few days or a few weeks. If the surgery went well, a few days, then home and back to work. If the surgery went well but I went into preterm labor, I would be on bed rest at the hospital, so a few weeks. After I finished packing my bag, I packed a few things for you too. Daddy and I had just gone to Babies R Us to buy you your first outfit, but we couldn't decided on just one, so we got two. I packed both of them. While trying to conceive you, I made you a blanket. I packed that for you also. By then it was almost 10pm. I knew that I couldn't eat after midnight, so I grabbed something quickly. Your favorite, fruit. We ate a bowl full of cherries. It was getting late and Daddy and I had to get up early to be at the hospital by 5am, so we went to bed.
Well, Daddy went to bed. I tossed and turned and eventually ventured out to your favorite spot, the couch. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, man little guy, you need to go to sleep, we have a big day coming up. That's right, you were still awake. You always slept through the night, so it was strange that you were still awake. After finally falling asleep, the alarm went off just a short while later.
I got up, got in the shower, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and woke Daddy up. While Daddy was in the shower, I stood at the bay window in the living room and cried. I pleaded with God to please not take you back. I asked him to allow me to keep you and let you stay with us. I sat on the couch and looked out of the window and prayed.
On the way to the hospital, the car held a silence that was scary. I think Daddy and I were praying the whole way or maybe we were just trying to hold back tears, so it was easier not to talk. As we hit Philadelphia I remember hearing a song and the only words I recall are "Don't cry for me". I knew then, but didn't say anything to Daddy.
We entered the parking garage, found my dad, and walked up to the Special Delivery Unit. This was about the fifth time we walked up to the Special Delivery Unit that week, but this time was different, it just felt cold.
Upon arrival, the nurse quickly took us to our room and everything began to happen so fast. The nurse told me to change. I went into the bathroom, took off my maternity clothes and put on a gown. I looked in the mirror at my huge belly, rubbed it, and said one last time "please God, please don't take him from me". I opened the door and the nurse told me to get into bed.
The nurse started my IV and called for the epidural. She asked Daddy and my dad to leave the room while the epidural was put in place. Then they were rolling me out. They called Daddy over to say goodbye to me. We kissed and quickly said goodbye. My dad came over and said goodbye and good luck. And then I was pushed into "the room". I remember someone saying "don't be scared, but there are a lot of people here, it's okay, they are all here for you." That was the last thing I remember.
...... I found myself waking up. Standing over top of me was a short haired woman with brown or blond hair. She said, "the baby didn't make it, the baby didn't make it." I felt like I was dreaming. I remember thinking that HE didn't make it, but it was okay because I have a SHE that did. It was like I was pregnant with two, but that was not the case. I was able to nod my head so the woman knew I understood. After trying to talk several times, I was finally able to get out, "the baby, belly". The same woman patted my belly and said, "the baby didn't make it." I wanted to tell her that I understood that, but I wanted to know where the baby was, but I couldn't. Finally after a few minutes of being in a world that seemed to be spinning, I was able to get out a few words. "Can I see him?" The woman responded, again patting my belly, "he is still in here." I finally understood that he didn't make it and he was still inside me. I fell back to sleep.
I woke the second time and saw Daddy. Although Daddy and I have been together for 11 years, I had only ever seen him shed a tear before, never cry. When I woke, Daddy was there next to me crying. I found that when I woke, I already had tears in my eyes, but I don't remember crying. Daddy later said that he knew I already knew because of my tears.
Every day I relive this day. I think about how that bowl of cherries was your last meal and I pray that you liked them. I understand why you were awake all night the night prior to the surgery, because it was your last night. The words "Don't cry for me" have a meaning now, strange that I heard them that morning, huh? Taking off those maternity clothes would be the last time I would undress you. The last look in the mirror, was the last time I would see you inside me, alive. The rub of my belly was the last time I felt you move. And when I said "please God, please don't take him from me", I realize now that God must have missed the word DON'T.