Three Month Birthday

It can't be. I can't believe it. It is almost here. As I turn the calendar, I see that horrible number. Six. I hate that number. I hate the sixth day of every month. Wyatt was delivered on 6/6. And Labor day, 9/6, will be three months. And I can't believe it.

It has been three months, a quarter of a year since I lost my baby boy, my Wyatt. Three months. Can you believe that in three months a person's life can be distorted in so many ways? Well, it can. A person can work their entire life to build their dreams and in a matter of few short moments, it can all be taken away.

I never looked at life like that before. Not until it happened to me.

With the three month mark approaching, I have decided that we will be honoring our baby boy on the sixth of this coming month. He will be receiving his three month birthday balloons, as they will be released into heaven for him to receive and enjoy.

Wyatt deserves so much more than balloons, but sadly that is the only thing that we can get to go to heaven. There is a wonderful quote that I found after Wyatt became our angel. It is as follows: "If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again." Well, if only that quote could come true. I would love to bring my baby boy home on his three month birthday.

Bring him home to a house full of balloons and love. God, how I wish I could just hold him and kiss his little forehead just one more time. But I can't. And I again, I am brought to the realization that I can't control life. John Lennon said it best, "life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." Oh so true!

Though I can't plan my life, I will plan to remember my son and show him how much I love him on his three month birthday.

Reality

Today was my first day back to "reality". It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

I was happy to see everyone and it seemed most were glad to see me also. I realized that so many things continued to move on while my life was placed on hold. There are so many changes. New faces, new procedures, new ways of doing things. These are all good things.

I have also realized that I really do have a new way of looking at things. I no longer get frustrated as easily. I don't get upset as quickly. And I think before I say something that might offend others.

The first day back to "reality", was something that I needed. Something different to occupy my time with. Nothing the same, through my eyes, but nothing different through other eyes.

Things will never be the same to me, they will always be just slightly different. But to others everything will remain the same. I realized that today.

Today was a day to just take everything in, and that is what I did. I took it all in.

..................Now I just have to process it all.

Life without a Plan

So that's it... My maternity leave is over effective tomorrow at 8a, as I walk into that building again to sit at my desk and begin to work again.

I can't believe it. Twelve weeks, just like that over. I remember talking with someone the other day and they asked if I did anything. That is when I started thinking, "what did I do?"

It's not like I had a baby to take care of, right? Right. But thinking back on the past twelve weeks, I have done a lot. I didn't do anything dramatic to the house or get a lot of what I wanted to do done. But I did do a lot.

I delivered my son. I said goodbye to my son. I grieved for my son. I learned a lot about the meaning of love and life. And most of all, I learned a lot about my husband and myself.

So yes, maternity leave is over. I am returning to a part of my old world. It won't be the same though, nothing is.

Just like old times, I have my lunch packed, the laptop ready to go, and my badge tucked in my purse. I am ready to leave for work tomorrow, back to drive the same route, and sit at the same desk. I will be working with mostly the same people. But it still won't be the same.

I have photos of Wyatt ready to take to work to put on my desk. I have my outfit all picked out and ready to go. I even know what we are having to eat for dinner tomorrow night. The one thing I don't have planned is what I am going to say when someone asks "how is the baby?"

Nope, I haven't planned that, and I am not going to. If the question is presented, they will get the answer that comes out, whatever it may be.

The biggest thing I have learned in the past twelve weeks is that I can't plan for everything. I wanted to plan when I would have kids, that didn't work. I wanted to plan what my maternity leave was going to be like, that didn't work. I wanted to plan my life story, that didn't work.

So, I have decided that planning isn't for me. It just doesn't work. So I will now begin living life without a plan.

I am returning to work tomorrow without a plan, none what-so-ever. For those who know me, not having a plan is definitely not me. But hey, "life without a plan" has to bring brighter outcomes than "life with a plan" did, right?

Forward, Backward

Last night I had one of those "he is supposed to be here with us" moments. These moments suck. There isn't another way to put it.

I don't know how to describe what these moments are like but these are the moments when I realize that he is gone FOREVER. I remember thinking at the one month mark, that he would be returning. In my heart, I knew at the hospital that he was gone. But in my mind, it just felt as though someone was borrowing him until his due date.

Now that his due date has come and gone, that's it. My heart and mind are on the same page. He is never coming back. I will never hold MY child in my arms, see him smile, hear him call me Mommy. I will never teach him what life is about, instead he has taught me.

People continue to tell me how strong I have been and how proud they are of me. To that I have to laugh. I am not strong. It's not like I am trying or working towards accomplishing something, like I do with other things in my life. I am just living each day, one day at a time. And why would someone be proud? There is nothing to be proud about. I delivered a child who couldn't even enjoy a moment in this world.

I often wonder if my child suffered his entire life. They say that his heart condition developed between weeks 8 to 10. So was pain the only thing that my child knew? I continue to go back in time and think about what I was doing at weeks 8-10. But that just allows for unanswered "what ifs".

If you are reading this and you think that I need help or I am not healing, you need to think again. Sometimes to take a step foward, you have to take two steps backwards. I am so tired of hearing that I need to move on, put it behind me. You step in my shoes. How would you feel if you didn't know if your child was suffering for 29 weeks? How would you feel if you tried to conceive for 26 months and you were let down EVERY SINGLE MONTH. How would you feel, if you finally accomplished your dreams and then you woke up one day and they were all CRUSHED? How would you feel if you lost your child and you were standing in the dark because you had no clue if you could even conceive again.

When you can answer all of those questions, then tell me to move on and put it behind me.

I will continue to move forward, but that means there are times when I must move backward. That is how life works. Think about it. We are always pushed to move forward in life, develop new skills, become independent. But in the end, we are not independent. In the end, we all will move backward and become dependent on someone else. That's the story of life, move forward to eventually move backward.

The Unfinished Room

The season is getting ready to change, I can feel it in the air. It is getting colder at night. Fall is almost here. Fall is different this year. I was looking forward to enjoying my maternity leave this fall. I was going to take the baby for walks in the stroller and enjoy moments curled up on the couch together.

None of that will happen this fall.

With the air changing and the humidity gone, I have decided that it is time to start painting. Some may think that I am wrong, but I am starting with the room that was to be the baby's nursery. I have to do it. I am tired of looking at the unfinished room, knowing it would have been finished by now.

We had decided that we were not going to find out the gender of the baby. So when we decided on the nursery set, we picked out a gender neutral set. After countless hours of Internet searching, we decided on Pooh. I had just bought the set two weeks prior to the 28 week ultrasound.

The set still remains in the unfinished room. Several have suggested I return the set. But I can't. That is the only NEW item I purchased for the baby. Will I use the set if there is another baby, I don't know. Maybe it will just remain in its package, but at least I will not have returned the only NEW item that I purchased for the baby.

Around here, there is a firm belief that childrens clothes should be passed down if they aren't damaged. A way to save money. I believed that also and that is why my mom and I went to the Wee Cycle sale in MD in February of this year.

I thought it was safe. They say, "once you make it past 12 weeks, the first trimester, you are good to go". If I only would have known. But since I thought it was safe, we ventured to the sale. Again, not knowing the baby's gender, we searched every rack for gender neutral clothes.

When I returned home, my mom and I went through the purchased items. We realized then that we had purchased a blanket and outfit set. They were sold separately, so we didn't realized we had a set while at the sale. I determined that this was the outfit that the baby would be coming home in.

I had also determined "the favorite outfit". I love frogs, and the outfit had a frog on it. The outfit was so soft and just looked super comfy. I could totally see my child in this outfit.

After receiving the bad news, we determined that it would be best to find out the gender of our baby. When we found out on May 27 that we were having a boy, Brian and I decided to go to Babies R Us and purchase little boy outfits for him.

I still have all of the other items, plus countless other gender neutral outfits that were purchased at the sale. They sit in the unfinished room, awaiting the next pregnancy. Will the next baby wear the "coming home outfit" or the "comfy outfit", probably not. They are a reminder of little Wyatt. But the next baby will have tons of other outfits.

Yes, the season is getting ready to change. I will begin to paint that unfinished room today. I am looking forward to it. Just like I move my clothes from closet to attic every season, so too will these clothes move to the attic.

As I pack up the summer items and put them in storage, I will put away many of the "could have beens" as well.

Little Black Box with the Red Flag

Since my return home from the hospital with empty arms, the thing I look forward to the most everyday is my short walk to the little black box with the red flag. Yes, my mailbox. I enjoy the anticipation of finding out what was delivered to the little black box with the red flag each day.

I enjoy this because for a month after returning home, without part of our family, that little black box with the red flag held inspirational quotes and sayings. They came in the form of cards and letters. Each was sent from a friend, family member, co-worker, or even a perfect stranger.

Upon opening the little black box with the red flag one afternoon in early July, I realized that the cards and letters had stopped. As I walked the short distance back to the house, I thought, "well, they can't continue forever."

I knew that there would be no more inspirational quotes or sayings, as they had long since ended. Instead of the cards and letters, there would only be bills, samples of formula, baby magazines, and junk mail. But for some reason, I couldn't stop looking forward to the visit to the little black box with the red flag.

In fact, on August 19th, Wyatt's due date, I remember sitting in the pool and asking what time it was. I was counting down the minutes until the mail lady arrived. I heard the squealing of the breaks just a few moments later.

I said to my mom and sister, "Yay, she arrived. I can go check the mail." I enjoyed the anticipation of walking to the little black box with the red flag that day. I was thinking that I would receive maybe just one inspirational quote in the form of a card.

I was let down again. I received NOTHING but two baby magazines. Really?! Did I have to receive something that was a harsh reminder of what this day was supposed to be? And that was all I received. Nothing else. No bills, no junk mail. Just two magazines that were starring out at me from the little black box with the red flag.

I had given up. I told myself I wasn't going to continue to look forward to my daily visit to the little black box with the red flag any longer. Instead, I allowed Brian to get the mail.

Then, today, I received it! I received my first BLM Penpal card. It was beautiful. The envelope had a monkey on the front, which immediately brought a smile to my face. Wyatt is "our little monkey". As I opened the envelope, I slowly pulled the card out. And yet another picture of a monkey. My day was made, it wasn't getting any better than this!

You see, I met a fellow BLM in late July. She came up with the idea of the BLM Penpals. The reason was simple. Just as I looked forward to visiting my little black box with the red flag everyday, so did all of the other BLM.

So, together, we continue to have something to look forward to. We continue to receive inspirational quotes and sayings. And we continue to be reminded of our littlest angels. We continue to receive "lift me up" words, as we understand that our pain is still there.

If you would like to participate in the BLM Penpals, please visit http://blmpenpals.blogspot.com/

Bitter Sweet

Today is a Bitter Sweet day. Today was Wyatt's due date given by the OB. According to the IVF specialist, Wyatt's due date was 8/23, but from January 24th on we used the date of 8/19, that which was provided by the OB.

Today was the day that I had been counting down to. The day that our first child was due to arrive. The day that we would become a FAMILY. That didn't happen today.

Instead, I went to sleep last night crying at the clock as it turned to 12:00a. I whispered goodnight to the sky, in hopes my son would hear me. I woke up this morning with nothing but the memories and lost dreams of what could have been.

Then I remembered that today is the Day of Hope. Today is the day that all little angels are remembered. I would not be grieving alone today. No, many other parents would be grieving with me.

I find this day ironic. Wyatt shared special dates with everything that was important. We found out that we were pregnant on my brother's birthday (12/16/09). Our first ultrasound was on 12/24/09. Wyatt's surgery, the one that he didn't make it through, was on 6/4/10, exactly 5 years to the day that my sister lost her boyfriend in a motorcycle accident. Wyatt was delivered on my 30th birthday, 6/6/10. Today was Wyatt's due date, the same day as the Day of Hope, 8/19/10, Bitter Sweet.

I saw a beautiful blue butterfly today. The same color as the one I saw last week, when I knew my Wyatt was there. I saw it right after my brother called me which was 2:23p. It flew around my mom's finger just shortly after. At exactly 2:25p my mom's watch stopped.

..... Wyatt was there and he was trying to tell us something.

It was Bitter Sweet.

THEY

So, I did it today. I drove that old route, walked that old path, saw that old desk.

I went to visit work.

A place so many go each day and don't give it a thought. For me, it was like going back in time. Going back to that last day of a normal life. Many other BLMs say that going back to work was relief. But for me it was strange.

I didn't actually return to work. I just went in to "visit". I needed to have the physical experience today, so I knew what it was going to be like on 8/30. It didn't feel right. I drove that old route, and listened to the radio like I always did on the way to work. This time though, the music meant something more and I saw everything around me, not just the road in front of me. I saw the bird that flew from the trees and the stick that was laying on the edge of the road. I saw the man in the car across from me and wondered what his story was. I saw the leaves blowing in the wind and the rain drops as the fell lightly on the windshield.

As I walked up the path to the building's door, I remembered what my last walk in this direction was like. It was painful. It hurt to walk last time. I could barely breathe and the pressure from the baby made me hurt. This time walking to the door hurt too though. But it hurt differently. It hurt because I was returning to the only thing that was "left over" from my old life. My job.

As I entered the building I felt sick. It was hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but I made myself do it. I eventually made it to the third floor. I came off the escalator and rounded the corner. I thought, "get ready to face everyone" and I took a deep breath.

As I said hello, I found myself fighting with mixed emotions. I was happy to be back in a place where I knew people. But I was upset because I knew they didn't know me anymore.

I received several hello's from many different people. But you could tell things were different. People who would have normally held a full conversation with me, just looked up and smiled and continued on. Or I had a few who said hello but didn't bother making eye contact. I even encountered people who held a conversation but you could tell they just didn't know what to say or how.

However, I had a few who understood. They held a full conversation, knew what to discuss and what not to. They knew that it was okay to approach the topic and exactly how to approach it. That is when I realized that THEY understood. THEY were the ones who always knew me and to them change meant nothing.

I guess that is what it is going to be like for a while. A lot of blank expressions and somber conversations. However, I have said it before and I will say it again. What I have lived through the past two months has helped me to see the world better, helped me to understand life. I have learned what to care about, what to devoted time and attention to, and most of all who THEY are.

Our Stories

"Two moms sitting at a picnic table eating lunch together and talking about something that no mother should ever have to discuss." That is what I continued to think today as I sat across the table from another mother.

If others passed by us, I am sure they would have figured we were just eating lunch while discussing topics such as family and our children. Which we were. But not the way others would discuss their family and children. No, we were not discussing feeding or nap times, formula or diapers, smiles or first steps. We were not discussing family trips or fun family times.

We were laughing and crying, and sharing our stories. But not the stories typical mothers would share with one another.

No, we were sharing our BLM stories. The stories that live in our hearts, changed who we were, and made us stronger.

Two mothers who had dreams of becoming pregnant, had hopes for their unborn babies, and quickly without warning had all hopes and dreams shattered.

Just two mothers sitting at the picnic table, telling each other how they lost their babies. Relating to the hurt and the pain. Laughing at moments and crying at others. Talking about memories, strength, and life.

We were two mothers discussing the pain of losing our children, which we shouldn't have to do, but we were just sharing our stories, as any mother would do.

Directions....

Have you ever been in a situation where you have to make a life or death decision? I am sure we all have been in this situation sometime during our lives, but I never thought that I would have to make a TRUE life or death decision!

The hardest decision I would ever have to make showed its ugly face to me on Thursday, May 27. I will never forget it. Brian and I sat in this tiny little room with our parents by our sides. The doctor from Fetal Cardiology said, "So you have a decision to make, you can either do nothing and allow nature to take its course or you can try the fetal intervention procedure."

I was numb. Just 48 hours ago, I was counting down the hours until I could see my child on an ultrasound image. I still didn't know whether we were having a boy or a girl. Just 48 hours ago, I was talking to a co-worker about the plans for our nursery. And now, I am watching the doctors lips move, I hear her telling me that, "your baby is very sick", but I feel like I am dreaming.

Of course my question was "without the procedure the chances are what?". The dream continued, "the baby will not make it but a few more days, if that". She continued with, "the fetal intervention could help the baby, but survival is about 10%".

The doctor and nurses left and took our parents with them. Brian and I sat, looking at each other in disbelief. Our baby that we had so many hopes for, who was perfect just 48 hours ago, is DYING? Are you freaking kidding me? How does something like this happen to someone who did everything right during her pregnancy?

And, they really want us to make that decision now, when we just were informed that all of our hopes and dreams had been torn from us?

So there we were, two lost parents, not knowing what was the best road to take for our unborn baby. Two parents who never believed something like this could happen. Two parents who didn't agree on which road to travel.

The doctor came back in, asked what we decided. The answer was silent. We hadn't decided on anything. Just that we both had different directions toward what could be the same destination.

After further discussion, we decided to take the road which allowed for medical help. We allowed the fetal intervention. It didn't work.

Was it the right decision? We will never know. I think about it every single day. I wonder if we would have followed the directions down the other road, if the destination would have been the same. Would the drive have taken longer? Would we have had to pay more tolls? Would the car have made it with both the driver and the passenagers?

We will never know. All I know is that I made the hardest decision possible on Thursday, May 27, 2010. There was no TomTom to provide the correct directions for this life or death decision.

My Gift To You!

I did it baby boy, I did it. My wants became a reality today. I have wanted to start a foundation in your name. It is going to be called Wyatt's Wishes. The foundation would be a non-profit group which participates in and creates fundraising events to raise money for donations to CHD research and awareness.

Well, today we did it. Nana texted last night and she wanted to walk for the Heart Association in your name. Today I researched it, and we set up a group in your name for the walk. If family and friends want to walk they can walk to support your group. If they don't want to walk, they can donate money in your name.

Oh Wyatt, I am so proud of this. We are going to do so much good for so many people and it will all be in your name!

This is your gift, baby. This is your 2nd month birthday gift!!! Happy birthday baby!

Our first walk will be on September 12 at the Riverfront in Wilmington. I have listed the link to the information below in case anyone would like to donate or register to walk with our group, Wyatt's Wishes!

You can help me raise funds for fight heart disease including Congenital Heart Defects (CHD)!

The Gift

Well Baby Boy, here it is 39 minutes until your two month birthday, but I will probably finish this on your birthday. I am writing to you now because I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy two month birthday. I am sure I will write to you again on our birthday.

I find myself sitting here asking God why he would take you from me. Asking what I ever did so horribly wrong to ever deserve to lose you. Asking what you ever did so horribly wrong to be taken away from your Mommy and Daddy, the two people who loved you more than anything or anyone on this Earth. But guess what, God won't answer me. I don't think I will ever know why you can't be here with Daddy and I.

Although at times I had some pain when I was pregnant with you, I loved every minute of it. If I could go back in time, I would enjoy the pains of you stretching, enjoy the nights on the couch because I couldn't get comfy in bed, and enjoy the days of having to run to the bathroom every 20 minutes.

I couldn't wait until my belly was sticking out so everyone could tell I was pregnant with you. I was so proud of you and you hadn't even been born yet. I remember the week that everyone began to notice I was pregnant. It was right after Easter. So many people were congratulating me, I was over joyed. I would rub my belly hoping you would feel it, so you knew just how proud I was of you.

I loved every single time I felt you move. I can feel it like it just happened. You would push your little feet down right on my bladder. It was like you were trying to jump on a trampoline.

I enjoyed going to the doctor and listening to your heart beat. It always gave me satisfaction knowing that your little heart was beating only a few inches away from mine.

I know was in a state of shock when the doctors told us what was wrong with your little heart. I don't think I realized it wasn't a dream until after delivering you. The nurse took you and while I was waiting for your "first cry" I heard nothing but silence. The nurse handed you to me and when I looked into your face for the first time, I expected you to cry or breath, but you didn't. That was when I realized it wasn't a dream.

Looking into your small little face, I saw Daddy and I all mixed together. You were beautiful, just like I imagined. You had my nose and cheeks and Daddy's lips. You were so small and so petite, and you were so cute.

Daddy and I got to spend your entire birthday with you though. You were born at 4:48p, just a few minutes short from being exactly 30 years younger than me. Everyone came to see you. You were baptised, had footprints taken, and you were held by almost everyone in your family.

I know that you were already an angel when you were delivered. But son, I just wanted to tell you that your birthday was the best gift. You gave me the gift that allowed me to hold you, cherish you, and enjoy having you with me at my side for 28 hours. Your birthday is was wonderful, Wyatt. It is a day that Daddy and I will never, ever forget. One that we will treasure forever.

~~~~ Happy 2 month Birthday Baby Boy, Daddy and I love you with all of our hearts! ~~~~

God must have missed the word DON'T

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.

Count Down

Now the count down begins....

I lost my dream that I had wanted to come true for so long and at the same time I lost touch with the real world. Life for me stopped on June 4th, 2010. Well, maybe it stopped at 10:29am on May 26, 2010, that was the last moment of normal.

Since then, I have been living a life where there is no hope, no joy, and no understanding. I have been living the life of a "baby loss mom". Don't get me wrong, I have encountered a new meaning of life, new friends, a new "family". And now that I am starting to gain a routine in this life, my life is going to have to change again.

August 30th, that marks the day that I will have to step back out into reality. This is the day that I am dreading most of all. This is the day that I have to return to where I was during the last moment of my "normal" life. My JOB.

I have worked for the same company, in the same department now for 8 years. I would like to think of my job as my second home. Happy times and good people. However, since August came, I have had this feeling in my stomach, this horrible, awful feeling. NERVES.

I am so nervous about going back work. As I said before, this was where I lived my last moments of normal, in my old life. The calendar will still be turned to May, my coffee cup will still be sitting near my phone, and my To Do list will still have the same items. However, I will no longer be the same person.

I am dreading picking up where I left off. I actually don't think I can. So much has changed now, everything looks different. I feel like I am wearing a new set of glasses and seeing everything for the first time. My biggest fear when I return is that everyone will think I am the old Megan, the Megan before the storm. But I am not.

And so, the count down continues. Only a few weeks left until I return to where I lived the last few moments of "normal". I wonder how differently I will see this place now, as I am sure the "normal" is no longer present.

Words Do No Justice

I found myself thinking a lot about you yesterday. Not that I don't think about you a lot everyday, but yesterday was different. While mowing the grass yesterday, I continued to notice the birds that were flying high in the sky. Would I have normally noticed birds flying while I was mowing grass? No, not in my old life. I also noticed a pretty yellow and black butterfly, the same one that was flying around the flowers on Friday. I thought of you and wondered if you were playing in Heaven. As I was mowing the front yard, I circled the mower around the front flower bed, and that is when I saw them....

I saw the two turtle doves, the same ones that Daddy and I saw the weekend we were sent home to "wait it out". The same ones we saw the day we went in for your surgery. The two turtle doves that brought me peace after returning home without you, as I recall seeing them on the morning of June 8. But that was the last time I had seen them, until today.

Circling the mower around to avoid the driveway, I saw them. They quickly landed on the edge of the driveway and watched me come toward them while I was circling the mower to continue cutting the grass. One of them tilted it's tiny little head, as if to look harder at me to ensure I was okay. I smiled at them, and away they went.

I continued mowing but wasn't thinking much about what I was doing. My mind was thinking a million things all at once. "Really? Two turtle doves are BACK in my yard? What does THIS signify? Your crazy Megan. No, you can't be, this has to be another sign, it has to be. Coincidence. No, the one looked right at me, I felt it. Again, your crazy Megan, nuts, as others would call it." Realizing I was nearing the end of my yard, I cut the wheel to turn in the other direction. I tried to shake it from my head, those two turtle doves. But I couldn't. I decided that it had to be another sign.

Am I nuts? Losing it? Can turtle doves signify something? I had to find out, so I began searching the Internet. This is what I found: "Turtle Doves have become emblems of devoted love." The definition of devoted is "Feeling or displaying strong affection or attachment."

Wyatt, please know that Daddy and I love you more than we will ever be able to put into words. Words do no justice for the love we have for you. Wyatt, are you trying to show Mommy and Daddy the strong love you have for us? Do you know that words cannot begin to show love, therefore you sent turtle doves?