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.