Friday, May 25, 2012

Last of the old life

Two years ago today, about two hours from now was the last time I lived the old life I knew.  I still remember it like it was yesterday.  My mom emailed me at about this time at work.  The email said, "Are you getting excited?  You will get to see the baby again very soon."  I remember thinking that I wasn't as excited about this scheduled ultrasound as I had been the first one.  We weren't finding out the sex of the baby and this was just to ensure that the low laying placenta had corrected itself. 

I remember getting to the ultrasound office and walking back.  I got up on the table and my biggest concern was ensuring that Brian could see the screen.  We told each other we were still not going to find out the gender if the tech asked us.  After laying on the table, the tech started the scan.  It was silence.  Being naive, I just assumed she was getting the pictures she needed and then she would allow us to see the baby.  I was wrong.  She continued taking images and pressing buttons on the machine.  I looked at Brian and he gave me this look that said, "I don't know what is going on."  I gave the same look back.  The tech finished and said, "Okay, you can wipe off.  Don't be surprised if the doctor calls you tomorrow.  Did he say anything about your size?"  I said, "Yes, he thought I was really large in measurement but he knew I was having this scan so he said this would show if there was anything concerning."  I asked if we could have a photo of the ultrasound, since we received several the time before.  The techs response, which I will never forget, was "No, not this time.  You will probably be back for another scan, maybe then."  I remember swallowing hard and walking out. 

That was it.  We went home to wait.  We were worried, yes.  But not like we should have been.  We had absolutely NO clue what we were about to come face to face with, no clue.  I am actually sitting here shaking my head.  If only I would have had some understanding, something.  I was so worried about cleft palate and not finding out the gender.  I never, NEVER, thought about anything else going wrong.  Thinking back now, I should have been so much more worried.  But I wasn't.  I was so very uneducated on medical conditions that could result in late term loss.  It wasn't something that had entered my mind.  No.  Instead, I remember sitting at home and telling Brian that the placenta must still be low.  If only that was it. 

Thursday, May 10, 2012


The signs have been seen a lot this week, I think he knew I needed them.  I have hit the point where I am starting to reference back to the dates two years ago.  You know the "on this day two years ago..." or "two years ago today was the last...".  Right, not healthy.  The signs are keeping me sane right now.  In the past I could lose it and it didn't matter.  Now I have a baby to take care of and losing it is impossible.  To see the 5:55 or the bill that comes to $7.77, it helps me realize that everything is okay as he is still near.

Silly, maybe.  But how do you know it isn't real?  Two butterflies came to visit my mom and I on the beach last week.  This was just after we were discussing my mommom, who passed at the end of last year.  The first one was larger in size and seemed more masculine.  The second was petite and had more feminine colors.  They continued to visit while we sat on the beach.  There's a feeling that comes over me when signs happen like that.  It's something that I can't explain and don't expect anyone to ever understand.  But I know the sign is real. 

Mother's Day is this weekend.  I have been a mother for two years, this will be the third Mother's Day for me but only the first where I can hold and kiss my child the entire day.  Mother's Day like other days is something that is bitter sweet for me.  Something only another mother who has experienced the loss of a child could ever understand.  My husband asked what I wanted for Mother's Day and I never responded.  The honest response would be something that no one would be able to give, so I kept the request to myself. 

I saw this cute craft on Pinterest the other day and I loved it.  I thought of asking for something similar for Mother's Day, but I changed my mind.

Pinned Image

I gave it a lot of thought, but I just can't have something like this hanging in my home.  It wouldn't be complete and that is all I would think about every time I looked at it.  The picture is cute and it looks like a fun family craft, but I just am not ready to hang something that is missing the participation of one of our family members.

I read a post tonight and it moved me.  I have been following this blogger since the loss of Wyatt and every time she posts on the subject for losing a child I feel the connection.  The post can be found HERE.  The piece that touched me the most was this:

"Nothing quenches the longing in our hearts for our children who died. Nothing. And this is how it should be. The place in our hearts- the one which belongs to our beloved child- is theirs and theirs alone. Our duty is to honor that place, to keep it free from detritus and from absorbing the hate of the world. Our duty is to remember them so this place which is theirs is one of beauty, a beauty beyond the material. Our duty is to love them boldly, wildly, with every part of our being, and to carry their spirit into the world." 

She couldn't have said it better.  My duty to my son Wyatt is to honor and love him forever.  To carry his memory and share his story to the world.  He is to live through me.  And this he will, now and forever.  I will continue to remember him, hold him in my heart, and never let his space be taken.  He is our first son, our "Golden Egg", our miracle and our angel. 

What I have realized while typing this is that although what I want for Mother's Day is impossible to have, I have something else.  I have an angel who watches from above and a child who lives with us.  Our angel watches over us with endless love while our child living with us brings us endless joy and smiles.

Monday, May 7, 2012

It's Coming

I have been doing fine for the past few months but all that is about to give way.  I feel the boards that have been nailed across my heart to protect it about to be ripped off painfully.  I can't stop it from happening since I don't know how the boards actually got there.  Maybe they were placed when we found out we were having our little rainbow.  I think they may have been slowly put up after the arrival of our rainbow.  But as the month is drawing near, these boards are about to be torn, slowly, one at a time from a heart that never healed. 

I shouldn't say the heart never healed.  The heart mended itself but it didn't heal the way it was before.  It will never be the way it was before.  There will always be a piece of this heart missing.  Part is here but the rest is in Heaven.  Part is here and the rest is still back in 2010.  Part is here and the rest is with my son, the one that I long to be with again.

Two years will be in less than one month, how can this be?  He is supposed to be here.  He should be playing with his little brother.  He should be running around, playing, and laughing.  But he isn't.  Instead, life has move on without ever hearing the sound of his voice.  He never even took a breath of air.  He would have been two this year. 

I want to be strong and remain strong for his second birthday, I pray that I am. But I feel the pain. I know it is there. It never went away. It never will. I will live with this pain for the rest of my life. I have learned to manage the pain though there are times when it seeps through. There are days that the pain is worse than others.

That's all I can type at this point.  I just can't bear the pain.  The heartache that the loss of a child brings to a mother is one that no one can ever explain.  There just aren't words to explain the pain, the hurt, and the emptiness.  The best way I can describe it for now is hollow with hurt beyond belief. 

It's coming.... more pain, more heartache.  Another year without him.  He would be two.