6 months.... 6 days

Sweet baby,

I can't believe you were born 6 months ago. In some ways it seems like yesterday... in others, like a thousand years have passed since I was able to see your eyes and let you hold my finger. I didn't know it was humanly possible to miss someone as much as I miss you. Sometimes I think you are here checking on me... if you are, then you will know I'm not doing very well without you. I want so many things for us... for our family. I want everything for you that all mothers want for their little boys. It doesn't seem to get any easier with you being there and me being here. It feels like the world is wrong because we are supposed to be together. It was going to be you and me and your daddy against the world. We were going to show those doctors that their statistics were wrong and we were going to bring you home and cherish every moment together. I want you to know that I am thankful for the 6 days that you gave me. I can't know how hard it was for you to fight against the odds you were given.... and you did it so bravely and you were amazing. I never want you to think I don't love and remember every single moment I had with you. You were stronger than any of us. I wish I had made the doctors let me hold you before the end was so near. I wish I could have slept the whole last night with you in my arms. I wish I could see you and talk to you now just for one night and hold you again. It kills me that I have to go the rest of my life without that. When I get to Heaven, it's going to be you and me, ok? Your family will be together tomorrow for Thanksgiving. I hope that you are with us. I will be on the lookout for a sign that you are there, watching over me, giving me the strength to keep going.

I love you more than you can ever know.

Mommy

Maybe Next Year

I don't know how people do this. I can't get it together for the holidays. Just thinking about it makes the tears start to fall. I don't care about the holidays. I just can't. I can't make myself feel something I don't feel. I can't cherish the family togetherness... I can't even enjoy my time off of work. All I feel is stress because I know that he won't be there and yet I still have to go through the motions of this time of year. I would honestly be content to just stay home, grade papers, and watch movies on Netflix.

Maybe next year I will feel differently.

My New Self

I have been trying to figure out what "being myself" means now. I am not the same person I was... but who am I?

I have started going to yoga again.... and went to hypnotherapy last week. I am trying to clear away some of this anger that has overtaken my life. I want to be a person that Owen could be proud of... and I am not. I am so angry and it makes me a harsh person. I don't even know how to describe the anger that sinks its teeth into me. I want to crush things. I assume that this is not how a healthy person should feel... so I guess I'm trying to remedy it.

At yoga this week... I remembered what it feels like to breathe. I feel like I haven't been able to take a breathe since January. Fear and stress and grief and anger have this effect to where I cannot breathe. I think breathing is the first step to finding myself. It seems simple... but it is so easy to give in to the thoughts racing in my brain and to forget.

So I am now going to consciously embark on a journey to figure out who I am now... underneath the anger.

Blood and Genes

I saw a genetic counselor yesterday. This was to go over the results of my "thrombophilia blood panel" that my regular OB told me were over her head. I was very pessimistic going in to this appointment... feeling like it would turn out as every doctor appointment had turned out since January- bad news. This was not the case and I am thankful for that. Apparently I am ok (I have a few oddities, but they do not affect me in a physical way) and the one thing that needs treated can only requires that I take baby aspirin and a higher amount of folic acid. All in all, this is nothing compared to what I was expecting.

He also assured me that none of my conditions could have caused Owen's CDH... he referred to his CDH as "lightning" and apologized that lightning had struck our family. I appreciated this reference because he seemed genuinely apologetic.... he referred to Owen as my child... not "my pregnancy"... he was a very kind man.

This appointment made me feel better in some respects, though still lost in others. Understanding that it would be extremely rare for us to have another child with CDH is great to hear... but it was extremely rare that Owen had it at all... something like 1 in every 7,000 babies have a right sided diaphragmatic hernia. Statistics don't matter unless you're on the wrong side of them. I guess I feel better than I thought I would after the meeting. He told me that when we are ready to try to conceive, there is no reason to believe, in looking at my labs and Owen's autopsy report, that we cannot have a healthy child.

While I don't want to hear that I am at fault for Owen's CDH, or his death, it is somewhat difficult to hear that it was just plain bad luck that our son is dead. There is no explanation, no known cause, for CDH to occur in an otherwise healthy child. Why us? Why him? What did we do to deserve this bad luck... this lightning? I will never know. I only know that I miss him with all parts of my heart and my soul and that I will never get over losing him.

Lucas and I discussed the differences in losing a child and the other types of losses we have experienced (a parent, friends, etc). When you lose a child you lose the possibility of obtaining everything you ever wanted. You hear people say sometimes... that they have everything they ever wanted... or "If I could just have _____". That is never a possibility for us. We could win the power ball, have 10 healthy and wonderful children... and something will always be missing. Do we want positive things for our life? Absolutely. Do we want a healthy living child? More than you can imagine. But if we get it... he will still be gone. We will live the rest of our lives knowing that a part of us will be missing until we die and are able to see him again. Losing him makes life seem very short and very long all at the same time.

I am glad for the news I have received from this meeting. I am glad that there is an opportunity for us to have a child of our own in the future who could be healthy. I am glad for a husband who loves me and still wants to move forward and have a family. I am forever sad that Owen is gone and I cannot get him back. I am sad that this hypothetical future child of ours will never know his or her big brother. I am sad that Owen never got to experience his life or make his own choices or see how proud we are of him. The glad and the sad must co-exist forever.

Breaking Down

I am not ok. I am so far from ok that I actually don't know what to do with myself. Today I broke my phone, made a mess of the house, and threw out a whole bunch of things I probably could have used. All of this because I can't find our drill. I wanted to hang a mirror that has been sitting on the floor for weeks. Clutter makes my OCD come out in full force and I just wanted the mirror to be hung. I am convinced that an evil elf has come and stolen my drill because it is no where to be found. This set off my entire afternoon.

After I was unable to complete that project, all of the other incomplete projects start running through my head. Clean the toilets, mop the floor, clean out the storage, hose down the garage floors, order shelves for the china cabinet, hire someone to clean the disgusting back yard, wash the sheets, put away the laundry, clean out the closet, pick up things from the cemetery... on and on and on and on and THEN it went on to the bigger projects I can't complete because we're absolutely and utterly broke...replace the counter-tops, replace the carpet, replace the tile, pour concrete in the backyard, replace the dead plants, paint the cabinets, buy a new dining room table, buy a chandelier, AND ON AND ON AND ON.

So I snapped and started throwing things and throwing shit away. I honestly do not know what is sitting in the garbage can right now and I don't really care. In the midst of my madness it just hit me that none of it matters because he isn't ever coming home. Who gives a shit if the laundry gets put away or the fact that our sink is separating from the counter top or that my bank account will be overdrawn on Monday? WHO CARES because 1/3 of my family is dead. 33.33333333% But it feels like all of it. It feels like I am all alone in this world because everyone is moving on without me and I am still in crazy town.

I know some people who read my blog are going to be absolutely horrified at reading this. Who knows, I may even delete it for fear of being judged. But this is the truth. This is what it feels like after your child dies in your arms and you have to go home without him and leave him in a hospital room. Even 5 months later. This is crazy.