"Bird's Eye View"

Can it be? Can it really be? I feel as though in the past two weeks some of the pain is starting to lift. I feel like I am starting to understand some things, not everything, because I will never understand why this had to happen to you, but I am starting to understand some things.

I remember reading blog posts from other BLMs while I was on maternity leave. I remember some of them talking about how the pain was subsiding just a bit. I remember thinking, that is never going to happen, I will be in pain forever. But that is not the case.

It still hurts that you are gone and that you are no longer physically here with me. But I have come to realize, through the help of others on FB and through blogs, that you are still with me and you will always be with me. I lost you and wish so bad that it never happened, but the time we had together I will cherish everyday. You will remain with me forever now, you will always be in my heart and on my mind.

Initially I thought, "This isn't fair! I never heard him cry, never got to see his eyes, and never held him while he was breathing." But I was wrong. I was blessed to carry you for 29 weeks and 1 day, feel you kick and move inside me, and help you grow strong to live longer than any of the doctors anticipated. With it being four months since you grew your wings, I can now understand that I was even blessed to lose you while you were still in the womb. You didn't have to fight with this world or come out into the cold. You were able to rest peacefully in the comfort of what you knew as your home.

As I said, I feel like the pain is starting to lift. It seems as though I can get through a day without tears. I am beginning to understand that life didn't stop on June 6, 2010. I am understanding that life was just starting. A life that looks differently to me and to you, but one that looks right to God. One that God had planned before you were created, before Daddy and I were married, and before I was born.

A few months back, I remember having a conversation with a wise person. I was upset about losing you and explained I couldn't make sense of it. This wise person said, "I understand that you feel your life is very unorganized right now and that your life is just not what you planned. But remember when you look at things from a from a bird's eye view, everything appears very straight and organized. He sees your life that way right now, very straight and organized."

I have held on to that conversation for the past few months. I find myself coming back to it almost everyday. That very wise person really knew what she was talking about. For everything there is a reason, even for the loss of my son. Why, I don't know. It isn't meant for me to know right now. But, from a bird's eye view, the reason could be just around the corner, again not for me to know.

My Life without My Son

Brian and I paid a visit to the Hershey store in Chicago on Friday and it was great. We had so much fun in this little store. We were like two kids in a candy shoppe, wait, we were in a candy shoppe. LOL

Upon entering the store, we were amazed at the size of each piece of chocolate. There was a chocolate making center in the middle of the store, of which, I would have loved to try out. (The only reason I didn't was because I didn't want the employees to think that something was wrong with me. I am an adult not a child.) At the front of the store, there was a Hershey Kiss displayed and the little "flag" was spinning around the top. It was so awesome.

We eventually ventured our way to the back of the store and we quickly became aware of the fact that we could purchase coffee and Hershey baked goodies. It was freezing outside, so we did just that. We ordered two cocoa coffees and a Hershey chocolate cupcake and a Reese's cookie. We needed to wait for the coffee to brew, so we continued to "play" in the store. We were having so much fun pretending to eat the chocolate and looking at the larger than life candy bars.

Then reality struck me....... It was this sharp gut wrenching blow to the gut. I happened to see a Hershey's onesie and bib. I don't honestly know what was wrong with me, because I quickly opened my mouth to say "Hey Hon, lets get this for Wyatt!".

Um, hello, reality check, Wyatt isn't here. He is never going to be here. What the heck is wrong with you. Do you honestly think this is all a dream? Wyatt will never wear a onesie or a bib. Get with it already.

That is what was going through my mind in a matter of a few seconds, when I caught myself, before I could say something that would ruin the trip for both of us. I was able to stop myself, walk away from the rack, hold back the tears, and move on. It was hard and I still think about the fact that I almost "slipped".

To others in the store, when I was photographing the onesie and the bib, they probably had no idea. They may have honestly thought I had lost it. But I had to photograph them. For some reason, these two items were screaming for me to purchase them for my Wyatt.

I have seen baby clothes and such since we lost Wyatt and I have never felt the urge to want to buy them for Wyatt. I have always remembered that Wyatt isn't with us. But I didn't remember in the Hershey store. It was like he was just away for the day, but to return tomorrow. Was it because I was acting young again and having "fun"? Was it because I was lost in the moment? Or was it because time is starting to heal and the pain isn't so much, so the constant reminder isn't always there?

I will never forget Wyatt or the pain or hurt I feel over losing him. I will never be the same as I was before I lost him. And I will never look at a child, family, mother, or father the same way. But I will continue to have "fun" which may cause more of the slipage moments.

This is okay with me, for this is my life. It is my life without my son. After understanding this, we returned to the back of the store and paid for our baked goodies. We grabbed a table and enjoyed our Hershey treats.

Remember

Tomorrow is October 15, just a normal day for most, it was for me until this year. I was ignorant to the number of things that could go wrong during a pregnancy. It took us so long to become pregnant, that when it happened, I figured the road to getting there was the worst part. I was so very wrong.

For my entire pregnancy, I was so concerned about cleft palate, I don't know why, but I was so focused on making sure that the baby didn't have it. I remember at the 20 week ultrasound, I asked the tech if she could look to see if the baby had a full palate. She explained "the baby" (we didn't what to find out the gender) had a perfect palate. Boy, if I could only go back to that ultrasound. I wouldn't care about the palate. Instead, I would have asked about the heart and the fluid.

Never did I think that I would loss my child. They say, "Once you get past the first trimester you are good." Well, they are WRONG. I got to 28 weeks, the third trimester! And, I wasn't good, the baby wasn't good, and life changed forever!

The day I lost my son, was the day that I realized that nothing is permanent, nothing! I began to quickly realized that there are things that can happen that are just unexplained. My entire pregnancy I was so focused on a cleft palate, something that doesn't cause many complications and something that can be fixed with surgery. Never did I consider the fact that my child could have something so wrong with him that even the best doctors in the United States could not fix what was wrong. I never gave thought that the very first organ that developed in my son's body could actually be the very cause for his death.

As I was ignorate to the many things that could go wrong with a pregnancy, I was also ignorate to a day that should be recognized more than it is currently being recognized. For many, tomorrow is just another day. For me, tomorrow, October 15, is a day to REMEMBER! For in my life, October 15 is now and will always be known as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Please make October 15 important to you from now on also.

Please remember!

Remember my son, my Wyatt James!

A Mask

I am having one of those confused days today. BLMs, I am sure you can relate. I don't know whether to wear the happy mask today or the sad mask. I feel like getting dress in the morning requires one additional step, putting on a mask.


Over the past four months, I have come to realize that life as I used to know it is over. It is gone. No more are the days when the worst thing in my life was the fact that I was over tasked at work, or that I had to get gas on the way home, or that I was locked out of my own house, or that another bill came that was to be covered by insurance. Instead, I face a new reality. The reality of living my life without my son, when I did everything right in my pregnancy. The reality of not knowing if I will become pregnant on my own, as it had never happened before. The reality of knowing that we have hit the lifetime maximum for IVF coverage and I only ever had one egg, one chance, and it didn't work.

Today, like many others, I don't know whether to wear the happy mask or the sad one. I struggle with this everyday. I know that Wyatt would choose the happy one. But happy isn't all that easy. There are days when I look at his photos and think to myself, "Really? Are you really serious? He is gone forever, and never coming back, but why???" Then there are other days when I think, "Thank God. I am so grateful that my child didn't have to suffer for long. He didn't have to come out and face this cruel world with an issue that would set him back from the "normal". He is at peace now."

I feel as though some people may think that since I have hit the four month mark, that things should be easier. That things shouldn't upset me as much. That life should be starting to get back to "normal". But um, hello, that is not the case. My life will never be back to "normal". Never.

I will always have this empty void, this hole in my heart. This empty place where so many dreams and memories were suppose to exist. A place that is now vactant, desolate, and abandoned.

A place that regardless of how much time may passes, it will always require something to hide the pain and the emptiness, something only a mask can cover.

STILL

I wish life wasn't like this.

I wish he was physically here in my arms, but he isn't. I wish I could kiss him once more, but I can't. I wish I could have seen his smile and the color of his eyes, but I didn't. I wish I could have watched him grow, but I couldn't. I wish I could hear him laugh and listen to him breathe, but I won't.

It's been four months, though so short, it was so long, yet so still at the same time. To me, four months ago seems like just yesterday. I feel like I was just being told by the doctor that it is time to start pushing. I feel as though this nightmare may end just around the corner, almost like it never happened. Is that even possible?

Is it possible to have lived for four months but yet look back on them and feel like they never even occurred? Is it possible to have carried my child for 7 months (29 weeks and 1 day to be exact), and feel as though it was all a dream which ended in a nightmare. Is it possible to feel like the nightmare is going to end in just a few days, like I am going to finally wake up and life will be what it was before May 26 (the day we found out everything was wrong)?

No! No, that isn't possible, but in my world that is how I feel. I feel like every day I am living to get to that ultimate goal of finally waking up and crawling out of this dark and horrible nightmare. I feel like I am getting one day closer to the day I will have my son and we will have that "perfect" family. The day that he will be at home with us and we will be raising him and teaching him and watching him grow.

But BAM! Reality strikes, just like lightening, right into the core of me. It takes the warm fuzzy feeling and slams it against the coldest harest rock possible. In return, I feel this bottomless pit in my heart, yes I actually feel it. I get butterflies in my stomach, and I realize that my life really is that horrible nightmare. The one that has the worst ending possible. The one where the baby dies.

The baby. The one that we worked so damn hard to create. The one that we were so patience in waiting for. The child who was loved so much before he even existed. That baby. That is the one that dies. Not the one whose mother doesn't want it, or the one whose mother did drugs during the pregnancy. Not the baby who was unplanned or the one whose parents decide to leave the child in the dumpster. No, not those babies, but our baby has to be the one who dies.

The Center for Disease Control estimates that each year about 975 babies in the United States are born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS). In other words, each year about 2 out of every 10,000 babies born will be born with HLHS. Are you serious?! Why couldn't we have won the lottery? The odds are about the same, on the scratch offs at least. Instead, we have to win in the odds of HLHS and be the ones to lose our baby. Are you freakin serious?!

Today marks four months since we became part of the odds. And though the months have gone by so fast, they are still so very slow. And in the same breath, I think, maybe the months are just STILL, not slow nor fast, just STILL. For the definition of still per Webster's Dictionary is "without motion".

In two words, that best describes the past four months of my life!

Past the Surface

Recently, I feel as though I have been blogging about each of the daily photo reminders, but that wasn't my purpose. The purpose of the photo reminders was to start a 365 project but have it focus solely on reminders of Wyatt. I was still going to blog about feelings and such but the photos were going to remain as part of the 365 project, aka "Wyatt's Life in Photos - A Collection of Reminders". But that hasn't been the case, and it will not be again today.

Some of the recent reminders or signs from Wyatt have just been so breath taking that I have to blog about them. If I only allowed a few sentences in the 365 project, it wouldn't do the reminder or sign any justice.

As I said, today is no different. When I awoke today, I decided that since I didn't have any face to face meetings at work, that I would work from home. Just one of the small perks to my job. So, I logged in just before 8a and began working. Just after 12p, I decided I was going to actually take a lunch. Something I usually never do at work. I needed to walk mail to the mailbox and wash some dishes. As I was returning from the mailbox something caught my eye. I looked down toward the blacktop and sitting on top of the folded welcome mat was a dragonfly. It was actually in the small location as where I found the blue winged butterfly in August.

I had never seen a dragonfly this close before. At first I thought, "Wow, that is the ugliest thing I have ever seen!" I ran inside and grabbed my camera, which was just on the table, since it is out all the time now with the 365 project taking place. I figured, for sure the creature would be gone by the time I made it back outside. But it wasn't. It was still there. I was able to capture four pictures of the dragonfly. Then, it even allowed me to touch its wings. A few hours later, I checked on the dragonfly, and to my surprise, it was still there. Still in the same spot. I went back out, played with its wings again and returned back to the table to work. Then about an hour later, I went back to check on it and it was gone.

I will be honest. I had to look "photos of dragonflies" up on the Internet to be sure that was really what I had photographed. When I realized it was, I immediately posted a picture of the dragonfly on FB. It reminded me of another BLM and her daughter and I had to let her know what I had seen. After posting the picture, I realized that the dragonfly was ugly after all. It was actually extermely delicate and something that should be treasured.

A few hours after I posted the photo to FB, I received this message:

"Loooook closely, Wyatt's name is in the wings... as soon as I saw the picture you posted, I saw a w on him, then another W, then I started playing on Paint.... So here ya go I didn't want it obvious..just subtle"

It was followed by a photo which showed how Wyatt's name was hidden in the wings of the dragonfly. Now, you will see on the photo, that for each letter in Wyatt's name, the letter is drawn over with black. That was done by the sender. But if you compare it to the orignal, the lines on the wings are there, just not as dark. All the sender did, was darken the lines. See for yourself:

Here, I was so concerned about receiving signs from Wyatt, that I never looked past the surface, to the real meaning of why the sign presented itself to me in the first place.

A Ride on Mommy's Shoulder

Just two days ago, I said to Brian, "He used to leave me feathers as signs, but not any more."

This morning after getting out of bed, I decided it would be a good time to sit with the laptop and update yesterday's photo reminder of Wyatt. After completing this, I decided to play a bit on the computer, searching for tours for our trip to Chicago. All the while, I was moving around, walking from the living room to the kitchen, then back to the living room.

It would have made perfect sense for it to fall off, but it didn't. Nope, after more than two hours of being awake, I happened to look in the mirror and I noticed it. A small, white feather. It was on the right shoulder of my shirt. And it wasn't just laying there, it was attached.


I do have a feather pillow, so it makes sense as to why I picked up the feather, but why after two hours of walking through the house and doing daily tasks was the feather still attached? Funny how the little feather appeared, when just two days ago I had made the comment about not receiving feathers any longer.

It was like the feather was taking a ride on my shoulder, just close enough to make me understand that he is always with me, regardless of the signs!