3rd Times A Charm

Yesterday was Gabriel's 3 month birthday, what started out as an uneventful, running errands day actually turned into a steaming hot mess of tears and heartache. I spent most of the day with my mom, we ran to get her oil changed and went out to Cheddars for lunch. We also did some shopping. It was so nice to have some time alone with my mom without it only being a trip to Kansas City and back to pick people up. (Recently we have been doing this frequently with family flying in and out of town through the KC airport) With most of attention being focused on the move and getting unpacked I felt like the 29th just kinda snuck up on me. We had gone to our friends house to play Warhammer just the night before. Our new friend who also runs the game had asked Gary and I if we had a problem if he brought his little girl and wife. In my book, he earned so much respect for asking before just bringing them over.

I was okay for the most part but by the end of a few hours I had to get out of the cramped apartment and away from anything that had to do with children. I kept watching his little one out if the corner of my eye, I watched her explore the room and realized Gabriel would never be wobbling around like her. Her childish ramblings that come before words...never would those fall from Gabriel's lips. Her screaming was what got to me the worst for some reason. I remember imagining and wondering about the first cries of life would sound when they fell from his mouth...that last week before everything fell apart was what I kept dwelling in it seemed.

By the time we left the building I could hardly breathe. We made it to the truck when the tears had started falling heavily and I kept thinking about my baby...why? Why did he have to go?

We went out to the cemetery yesterday after a completely horrible break down. I don't know if I've ever had a worse one yet. The amount of pain I felt when i was home alone was immense. I kept staring at his pictures I have up, my heart aching and the tears falling faster than my hands could wipe them away. It is painful to lose your baby. Recently it seems Luke everyone is trying to fix it or say the right thing to make it better...I hate to tell them but it isn't working. The numb is starting to wear off and reality keeps crushing me just a little more everyday. It seems if I ignore this grief even for a few hours I am turning around and having horrible repercussions for it. Is it wrong of me to want a few hours to try and rebuild friendships or feel a little normal? Apparently so. I think yesterday was built up though from almost a week of suppressed feelings with this move and everything else going on.

So, like I said we went to the cemetery. I am finding it harder and harder to find any comfort there anymore. To know that the beautiful little boy that grew inside me is "falling apart" and there is nothing I can do about it....it is the worst....

Sucker Punches

Sucker punches is a term used to describe the moments where something reminds us of our baby and it hurts. I have had a ton of them these last two days while packing up our room to move. The first was a small piece of paper with Gary's schedule on it. Seems harmless right? It turned out this piece of paper contained the exact dates of not only the week we lost Gabriel but also the next week where we were supposed to be having a c-section. All I could do was sit there, staring at the dates and times, thinking about what it would be like if things had turned out differently. The second item was my calender, it had been shoved under the bed after being ripped off the wall back in April. I pulled it out, all my appointments during March were written in my neat hand writing, all my classes and times, every ultrasound/NST appointment...even the last two weeks of our lamaze class. On the 10th we had gone to      a Jeff Dunham show, I remember that was the first night I started to have pretty intense contractions and we had joked Gabriel would interrupt our date with his arrival.

All the dates were marked off with a blue X...all the way till March 27th, the day before we were admitted, the day before my life would change forever. My eyes watered with this discovery, my heart feeling so full and my soul feeling empty. I set it aside and continued on. The third item was today, a tiny appointment card for my OB. The date of the appointment was supposed to be March 29th at 2:25pm...if only that was what fate had in mind. Instead at the exact time my son had been pulled from my body only 5 minutes before as I lay unconscious by drugs. I had family waiting to see me, waiting to hear news about what was going on. Instead of being in the final appointment before I had a c-section I had already been through the most exhausting and cruel labor I hope I ever have to go through. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief, in utter shock that this is how everything turned out. I quickly threw it in the trash bag.

The fourth item was a note, it had been written to my husband back when we first found out I was pregnant. I remember I constantly stuck little notes in his packed lunches back then but this one I had included the picture from our first ultrasound. I remember it really well. Despite initial instinct to rip the note into tiny pieces and throw them around, I set it calmly in Gabriel's memory box. The fifth item was another note I had written to Gary, only a few weeks before our baby's due date now. It talked about my fears of becoming a parent, how I was terrified of losing him (a common feeling through out my entire pregnancy). I cried softly in the empty room, surrounded by boxes and feeling so alone.

The sixth item I came across was the schedule book I kept while pregnant since my memory was horrible. I flipped to that life changing week. There was a countdown for the days left until the c-section. ( 7 DAYS!! 6 DAYS!! 5 DAYS!! 4 DAYS!! 3 DAYS!! 2 DAYS!! 1 DAY!!) I saw the classes I was supposed to attend written here too, as well as the appointments and times. I hugged it close to my chest, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back. Why me? That was all I could think before I shoved the little booklet into the trash bag.

Not all these things happened around the same time. Different hours of the day seemed to carry new feelings and emotions. I think I called my mother three times today just to take a step back from it all. Of course this doesn't include the dozens of pregnancy magazines that were angrily chucked into the trash or ripped in half out of anger and pain. This doesn't include the other appointment cards I came across for times he was still alive and well. (These too were ripped up and tossed into the trash) This doesn't include the BabiesRUs ads that I had held onto for the coupons, the sample packages from when my mom, my sister and I went to register. This doesn't include the sears portrait studio coupons I planned on using either. When Gary got home it seemed like there was even more to be found.

Gary gently placed a Star Wars book in one of the boxes as he whispered,"This is the book I started reading him." My heart ached, how much more of this? How much more stuff could possibly be hiding amongst our things to deliver its ever painful sucker punch. The final thing we found today was a journal I had kept at the beginning of my pregnancy. It only has a few entries in it but when I read over the letters to our baby I was thankful. I was so utterly thankful to have those few entires to include in the memory box of his brief life.

It was rough though later on in the evening. I had fallen asleep in the chair downstairs, tired from packing and running around to shop for our new place. I woke at a point, distraught, disorientated and immediately took off to my room. There I cried in my husbands arms, begging someone, anyone to make this pain go away. I said it over and over again,"Anyone, please, please make this go away!" I don't think I've cried that hard in a little while, I would beg Gary to fix it, plead with him to bring Gabriel back. I was in a full out panic, my heart ached horribly and my tears fell for so long with no end in sight. I've noticed I am making a terrible mistake, I am pushing my feelings down, trying to "forget" so the pain will ease up even slightly. I know I can't forget my son, and I would never want to but it seems like a part of me is trying to act okay, trying to be alright so people will talk to me again...maybe if I'm not hurting so often or crying over my son I won't feel so forgotten about anymore.

Exciting News

Gary and I are moving into our first place together on Monday!! This will be the first time we are completely independent. I am so excited for this new chapter in our life, especially since we have been married for almost two and a half years and had to depend on our families a lot! I truly don't know where we would be without his parents especially, they have been so amazing to us by allowing us to stay with them for so long.

This new adventure has stirred a lot of feelings. We have come across so many little things while packing and cleaning our room. Gary and I have both cried at one point or another, we have ripped up magazines even. I also came across the work schedule Gary had written down when we had scheduled the c-section, even the calender for the month of March. I looked over every appointment, the last few lamaze classes and even the last day crossed off on the calender...March 27th (the day before we found out) I found coupons for sears portrait studio that I planned on having beautiful pictures of my new little family. I found our old ToysRus  coupons with discounts on diapers and all sorts of things. To say the least I've broken down so much thinking about how he should be here with us.

I imagine though that he is watching over us. Gary had his full time finalized and now a place of our own!!

Ignorance is Bliss

Last night I was emotional, I was angry, I was hurt. I had been talking to my best friend for a while, the first time we have really talked on the phone since her moving away and since having her son. I don't think I have ever felt such relief at the sound of a familiar voice, I don't think I've ever been so happy for a phone call to chase away the silence in my bedroom. We talked for a while, she had a small break away from home while her husband watched the baby and was on her way to get dinner. She talked about all the "new mommy complaints", I listened patiently. I kept wondering, what does it feel like to be kept awake by baby cries? What does it feel like to look into the eyes of your baby? What am I missing out on? 

Our conversation continued, she told me about a conversation she had with another woman she knows, back when I had just lost Gabriel. The woman had asked my friend if she was worried about losing her son like I had. My friend was honest with me, she said she laughed a little and said no. When asked why she said she knew she wouldn't lose her baby, she knew with all the extra testing at the end of her pregnancy that her son would be fine. She told me she knew what was happening with her body. I told her about how I had extra testing also, that it was as simple as Gabriel having a heartbeat on the Thursday before and by the next Wednesday it was gone. Not to mention he had already been passed for a couple days. We finished talking and hung up when she got home.

I was sitting in my room, laying in bed when it hit me what she had said. I was overcome with anger, did she think I didn't know what was going on with my body? Did she think I deserved this fate? Of course irrational thoughts were flying through my head at this point. I was hurt most of all though, why would she tell me about this conversation in particular? Why now instead of later? Oh I was a mess...though all my frustrations and anger turned into the best workout I've had yet. I couldn't quiet my mind though. I played over every detail of the incident, over and over in my mind, trying to find the slightest detail that would have changed this. I kept asking, did I cause Gabriel to die? Is my friend a better mother than me? 

By the end of the night and my workout I felt torn up inside, I felt vulnerable and weak. How could a simple conversation do this to me? I wish I had a chance to be woken up at night with Gabriel's cries, I wish I could catch every smile in a picture. His death has taught me to cherish life though. I know if he had lived, if he was here...I would have no idea what it would be like to miss him. I wouldn't have a deep appreciation for the memories I share with him. I would take every day for granted still because I would have no idea of how to live otherwise. I wouldn't know what it was like...I wouldn't understand why a woman might gaze longingly at my son. I wouldn't be able to offer help to those who have gone through a devastating loss like my own. I wouldn't know how to be this strong...my sons short life has given me more insights and a greater awareness of the world around me. Every day something new is revealed...

Since yesterday I have talked things out with my friend and we have agreed to not let this destroy our friendship. Ive explained my feelings and she has hers. I love her like a sister, she is apart of my family as much as I am hers. She wouldn't have known what she said would hurt me, I had no idea until after I was off the phone with her. Grief, as I have said before, can be an necessary inconvenience.

M.E.N.D

http://www.ky3.com/news/ky3-ozarks-couple-offers-help-for-coping-with-loss-20120618,0,3833272.story

I have to say, I am so thankful that we have an amazing, supportive group to go to every month. It is such a relief to know that at least once a month I have a support group I can go and vent to that understands exactly what I am going through. Everyone has such heart breaking stories but seeing other couples whose loss isn't as recent and how strong they are gives me hope that I will survive this, I will learn how to live through the loss of my beautiful son. If there's one thing I can get across, is if you are experiencing a loss of any kind look for a support group or someone you can openly talk to about your feelings. It makes a world of difference! I was very against the idea of support groups or counseling but I now go to both. No one should have to grieve alone.

Fathers Day

Where do I even start? Today was a day full of emotions, I think I even took it harder than Mothers Day. I woke up tired, groggy and just plain grumpy. My father in law had asked if we were joining them for church, my husband agreed and behold, my cranky side started to rear its ugly head. I kept saying I wasn't going to go, I didn't want to see all the happy families, the list goes on and on. While getting ready my husband snapped,"I deserve to be honored for the father I am!" He stormed out of the room but it put me in perspective. At our M.E.N.D meeting we had discussed that Mothers Day should be whatever the mother feels up to doing and the same for Fathers Day. I sucked in a deep breath and finished getting ready, my husband not returning. We were all getting ready to go to church when I walked out of the house and saw Gary with his father, they were embracing each other and all I could think about was how I should comfort him and apologize. He went back upstairs to finish getting ready.

I found him collapsed on a pile of clothes in our room, my heart sank. I cuddled up next to him, apologizing for my actions and encouraging him to get ready to go. He told me to wait downstairs but I suddenly had a pulling feeling to be near him. "I want to take care of you," I said through tears. He held on to me, kissed my forehead and told me he loved me. Not long after we were in the car with his dad on the way to church, the rest of the family had already left.

It was so silent in the car, I felt trapped and hurting. It even hurt to breathe. My father in law cleared his throat, and started talking to my husband about how wonderful of a father he was and how he should dwell on the here and now. I gave my husband an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder from the back seat. Before long his dad was talking about how in order to see Gabriel again in heaven we needed to live a fulfilled life through God. How did I get sucked into this conversation? I really was in no mood to talk about my faith life or how to see my son again. I knew he was trying to be helpful in the only was he could but I just wasn't in the listening mood. He talked about when we were going up to the Eucharist but I didn't give him a chance to finish before simply shaking my head in the back seat and saying I wasn't going to participate in the Eucharist. The conversation kept going until we reached the church, where I quickly got out of the car and headed towards the building. Tears were starting to form but before I could make my escape his dad was grabbing me by the shoulder to try and get me to talk to him. I pulled away, crying even harder now.

My husband and I spent the mass sitting in the gathering hall right outside the doors to the church, he had decided after all that he didn't want to sit in the church. We listened to the priest over the speakers occasionally but spent most of the time talking. I determined that if God knew what I was going through because he lost his son too that he wouldn't hold it against me if I wasn't participating in mass. Gary agreed. We talked about how tired we were of people trying to get us to come back to God when all we wanted was time to do it on our own. I feel rushed, I feel like I am being pushed into something I am not ready for but how do I get them to understand? I haven't grown up with a strong faith in God or heaven, I am trying hard to believe and have faith, is that not enough? Are the prayers I say in the church more powerful than the tears and pleading for guidance I whisper late at night? Is the Eucharist a requirement for healing when the simple acknowledgement that God is watching over my son starts to warm me a little? I am trying! Do I have to show my prayers and my pain for people to know that yes, I have a relationship with God and yes, I am trying to heal. When did trying become not good enough?

After mass we enjoyed a family lunch at Cheddars and then Gary and I were off to the cemetery to see Gabriel. We bought flowers, balloons, two sesame street cupcakes and a little trinket. I felt a little peace being near our baby, I took pictures of course and everything went really well. I left my husband alone to have his moments alone with our son, when I came back he had his phone out playing our song, you'll be in my heart by Phil Collins. It was the same song we had sung to him when we held him for the last time...it's been exactly 80 days since I heard that song...my eyes were full of tears by the time he came walking back to the car. He held me, encouraging me to go sing to our son, I couldn't. I had been seeing families all day with their little ones, feeling like a failure that I could not deliver our son healthy and alive while those women could. It was in those moments that I truly realized how broken my little family was and it hurt my heart, it hurt my soul...I miss Gabriel so much. We have survived another "first" from the many more to come this year.

We had balloons, until they popped in the wind.

Fathers Day 2012

Sesame Street cupcakes in celebration of fathers day/my husbands birthday

A photo edit I love!!

Another photo edit, I love this one too

Fathers Day Cards

It has been one busy day so far! Today is my husbands 24th birthday (hooray!) and tomorrow is his first fathers day. In my mind I keep thinking of how different things should be, how Gabriel should be here to celebrate with us. I've been out though, trying to keep myself busy by buying gifts, figuring out what to make for dinner, making cupcakes...normal holiday stuff. I was doing okay, trying to be creative with how to honor my husband on such an important day tomorrow but there I was, completely stumped in Walmart while looking through their fathers day cards. There was an assortment: from wife to husband, from son to father, from daughter to father...ones for uncles who are like a father, for grandpa's from kid, for grandpa's from kids, for papa's...even ones for the expecting father and fathers of cats/dogs. Not a single one for fathers of babies in heaven. I stood there in awe, how could it be that there is no card to recognize my husband as a father?
 I was heartbroken and frustrated. Fathers of animals get cards from their "four legged children" but what about the thousands of fathers with winged children in heaven? I couldn't believe how this could happen, with all the numbers of stillborn children it didn't seem fair. I took a deep breath in though, reminding myself that this is just another "hallmark holiday". I settled on a card from a wife to husband but inside I was hurt. Why should we have to special order cards for our bereaved fathers? Why can't we go to the store and find a selection of beautiful cards to honor them? Our only baby is in heaven! I continued my shopping, determined to brush it off and let it go. My project required me to be in the photo center, the system froze on me over and over. I was becoming so frustrated! Eventually I got the prints I wanted. As I was paying for the instant print at the counter the cashier looked at the pictures while putting them in an envelope. I paid, collected my change and looked up to tell her to have a nice day. She smiled at me," You have a beautiful baby." My words froze in my throat, tears started to prick at my eyes. I managed to squeak out a thank you and turned just as the tears started to fall. Since Gabriel's death I have been very cautious about who sees the pictures, lately I have been opening up more. I am not embarrassed by him but his skin is peeling in his pictures, he doesn't simply look discolored. I cried on my way out of walmart, clutching the pictures to my chest. The words she spoke to me were music to my ears. To know that a complete stranger could see the beauty I saw when I looked at the pictures of my son was truly uplifting.

Just One of Those Days

Today is turning out to be an extremely emotional day. My husband bought me flowers the other day, beautiful roses, and since I had a chance to enjoy them for a couple days I wanted to bring them to Gabriel's grave for him too. We showed up at the cemetery to find that all the beautiful things placed near the graves of the babies were gone. I was in shock, the pinwheels we had placed, the white roses we had left before, the fake flowers he had...they were all gone. I could see the anger rising in Gary as he jumped out of the truck and went to look at all the graves...everything was gone. He grabbed his phone, calling the cemetery office. It turns out that anything not attached to the headstone is considered in the way of the mowing so it will be removed. We asked for a mowing schedule but they said they didn't have one...I kept imagining all the pretty flowers and trinkets now in the trash. My tears fell, hot and heavy, as we drove home mostly in silence. It isn't fair! I can understand that the grass needs mowed but is it so difficult to put it back? Or to set it on the ledge near the graves for people to come back and put it up themselves? I buy things for Gabriel. In my opinion, me leaving things that mean something is an expression of my love for my son. No one should just be allowed to take it and toss it in the trash! I was looking at the rules and made sure not to break any of them, yet everything is still gone. His grave is bare again. I'm so upset about it but I know there is nothing I can do. To make matters worse, I had made a photo book on walmart.com of my favorite pictures of Gabriel. I knew it had been shipped and was supposed to be arriving in the mail. I came home today, finding the package and ripping it open in excitement...the cover was of our little family, just as I had wanted it to be. When I opened the first page though, it was filled with the pictures of another family! At this point the only thing I could do was laugh it off, even though on the inside I was more than a little upset. I hope today gets better....

Rain

I remember the rain, the storm that raged outside my window. It wasn't long after your death when I woke to the screaming thunder, I jumped up, my face staring into the rain. I cried, my tears falling like rain drops, I believed you were drowning. I imagined your little body drenched, the water seeping in, surrounding you like when you were in my womb. Daddy had to drag me back to bed, I cried out, wailing. Why? Why did the rain have to come? Instead of holding you in my arms, comforting your little cries from the thunder, I was trapped in my own fears. Like a child I hid under the blanket, wishing it would go away, hoping to open my arms and be holding you. I've never felt a need to protect that strong...I wanted to find a shovel, I wanted to use my hands and dig away the wet dirt. I wanted to open your tiny coffin, in my mind you would be alive by some miracle. I would take you home....instead you are dead...seventy something days are passed. The rain still comes sometimes, it makes me crazy, it makes me insane with a longing to be at your side. My son...are your tears in the rain? Are the thousands of droplets beating against the ground tears of angels? Do you mourn too, held and rocked by God himself?

Cemetery Visits

I cry at the cemetery more and more now. I no longer find peace in my heart, it echoes around me a sad and lonely place. It is in those moments I realize my empty arms, my lost hopes, my shattered future with Gabriel. It is in the quiet of looking down at his grave that I am suffocating in silence, there are no cries of a newborn, no giggles of a toddler, no whispers of a teenager or strong words of a man. His lips are to never part in a goodbye kiss or deafining shriek. His hands are forever tiny, never to bear the ring of a husband. His feet captured in tiny innocence, never to feel the grass beneath them. Instead, he is beneath the grass. I wish I didn't know what was happening to his body...he should be thriving with life, his growing only to continue. But instead he is falling apart, as all who come to pass do, and I feel broken hearted and an agony washes over me in this moment. A pain so deep no tears will fall to bring sweet relief. I realize his body is mere feet beneath my hands. There were times when we first went to the cemetery and I would be overcome with an ache in my soul. I would dig my nails into the hard dirt of his grave and swear I could fix him, I would beg to only let me hold him for a moment and I would put him back...no one would have to know. My husband would have to pry me away, angry that I would dare to disturb his sons resting place. This grief is twisted, I wish I could just sleep away the days of now and wake in a brighter future...I wish I could fix my son...but my body has been labeled useless now.

Watching Memories

I broke down and watched the Christmas tape today, it was only about an hour and a half long. I found myself fast forwarding to see me pregnant again, and when I first saw myself it hit me...Gabriel was still alive in those moments. He was safe inside me, growing and listening to all the laughter of his family. I cried. There he was, alive and well, my tired eyes evidence of the sleep I was starting to miss. Afterwards I laid here, thinking about all the Christmas memories I couldn't make with him. I fond myself wishing I would have brought the video camera to the hospital. I wish I would have recorded my only moments with him but now I have to hold them only in my heart. I know from experience that details start to fade, I am so scared of forgetting what had happened...I guess that is kind of why I started this blog. I miss my baby, I know I keep saying that but I do. I wish I could bring him back, I wish i could feel his little chest rise and fall against my own. I remember thinking right before we went in for my NST that I couldn't wait to place my ear on his chest and listen to his heart beat for myself instead of through a monitor. I can't believe only an hour after that thought I was being admitted to give birth to my son, a child I would never take home with me. It still amazes me how time changes so quickly...

Remembering Christmas

Mommy, Daddy & Our Little Gift (12/2011)

I was in my room today, my husband was next to me when I remembered about the video camera we had gotten before christmas. It was an older one Gary's parents had and they gave it to us so we could record everything after Gabriel was born. I burst into tears when I realized that the only video we got of me at all when I was pregnant was christmas morning when we were surrounded by family. I cried really hard for a moment, that was the only Christmas I was able to spend with my son. Gary told me to be thankful that I got that time with our baby but how can he say that? I had an entire future planned, we had already even figured out our holiday arrangements so everyone got to spend time with their grandson. I had imagined a morning full of little toys and making ornaments with the baby (nothing fancy obviously since he would still be little) I imagined rocking him to sleep at night, telling him stories about christmas and hannukah. I was going to sing songs to him and start making traditions with my own little family but now what? I don't know how I am going to survive without my baby, I don't know...

Reality, the beginning

The shock is wearing off, each day I wake to a self that is bipolar and trapped in a never ending nightmare. I wish those around me could stop encouraging me to see the positive, I wish they would recognize my longing to just vent. My words seem repetitive to those around me, they seem to roll their eyes in annoyed frustration that I am talking, yet again, about the injustice that had been done to me. They walk on egg shells almost, treading around me, refusing to talk openly about their grief or the injustice done to them. In reality I long to hear them utter his name, I yearn to know how he impacted everyone's life, even if it is in the smallest of ways. I want to know that he still matters to people other than me, that maybe his death was just as earth shattering to them. I try to be strong though, I try to hold it in because I am sick of all the explanations of how I should look at things or how I should be feeling. I spend hours in solitude crying, my heart aching, hoping that maybe someone would hold me, even for a moment. I remember the support at the beginning, all the cards and the flowers, everyone wanting to be there...it was so much to a point of almost annoyance. Now? I feel like a forgotten rug left out in the rain, everyone scared to touch it because it may reak of mold. I am the molded rug! I do not wish this pain on those around me, I beg that no one should ever have to deal with this...I just wish they would understand. It is a cruel twist in life when a mother and father are forced to bury their child, but not only a child but a baby who passed before they had a chance to be born. How does a child die before their birthing hour? How does one pass when they have not yet taken their first breath of air? My emotions are out of control most days, it seems to be getting worse. I am angry beneath the surface, a mere wind blowing in the wrong direction can send me spinning like a tornado, leaving a trail of damage in my wake. Oh reality is cruel, it is sick and cruel and I wish this would stop!

Dreaming

My dreams have been cruel to me since Gabriel's passing. I have nightmares most nights, vivid images of his death, of the birth, of the funeral. I have one that is cruelest of all that seems to repeat itself. When I was pregnant my husband and I, with another couple that was expecting, had decided to go to a haunted house. I was still early in my pregnancy so I figured what was the harm. Apparently I had forgotten how much I hate haunted houses. I spent most of it with my eyes closed, Gary hanging onto my hips from behind me and me holding on to my best friend Tabitha in front of me. Towards the end of the haunted house they had a coffin standing upright that you walked into. I freaked out! Death had always been terrifying to me and my husband had an aunt that passed in July. Her death had been the first funeral I had ever attended and the first experience I had with seeing the body of someone who had passed. It was a very traumatizing experience after her funeral filled with nightmares of her death and such. Well, my sons passing has turned out to be no different. In my nightmare I am back in this haunted house, this time very very pregnant. No one is around but my husband and of course myself. Right in front of the standing up casket I go into labor, immediately falling to the floor and already at the point of pushing. I start this horrible labor, I feel him getting stuck again, I'm screaming for help but there is no one around to hear it but my husband. It seems to go on forever. I feel every ounce of pain I felt when I was truly delivering him. I finally give birth to my son, hearing his beautiful cries of life for the first time, it comes as a shock and I feel fulfilled at first since I never truly got to hear him cry. Crawling out of the casket is a horrid creature, it is hooded in a black cloak, its breath is raspy. Before I have a second to respond it grabs my son, the beautiful boy I had dreamed of meeting and runs into the casket, the lid slamming shut. I am screaming, tears running down my face as my husband runs to the "doorway" and begins banging on the lid, screaming at the top of his lungs. I wake still hearing my son screaming.

Thoughts

I wish I could fall back in time to the first butterflies of movement you shared with me. I wish I could watch that innocent girl, so beautiful, so alive and vibrant. She appears as nothing more than a watermark now, a stain on a white carpet, a nuisance of grief to those who try to move on. I wish I could fall back into the days when life bloomed inside my womb, where the hours were spent in wonderment of Your tiny body. My hopes, the dreams...all a reality, a new experience. I wish I could experience you all over again, rewinding back into those nine months, full of innocence. Now I am a hollow body, a spiritless wanderer, empty. I am relearning this silly thing called life. My eyes are marble, hardly giving anything back. I'm sure I died inside when your heart stopped beating, I'm sure my womb wept in sorrow from the empty silence that prevailed. You slipped away into oblivion, never gracing the world with your cries of life. You were a quiet soul, knowing love in its truest forms, knowing laughter in all its abundance. You knew stories and voices, especially of those who loved you more than time could tell. You never knew pain, you aren't destined to suffer. Your beautiful life was simple, a moment not taken for granted. You are a blessing. Though the black line may fade, though the memories may dull some, you are alive in our hearts.

Rough Day

Today was extremely difficult. I am amazed how many times in a day I sit there and say to myself,"wow...my baby is dead." I am surprised that I still am in shock over this, I would think it would be getting a little easier but I appear to be wrong. I am struggling with a lot of blame and guilt, I blame myself for Gabriel's death even though we did no testing to find out if there was a cause. Knowing that he passed while still inside of me is so hard! I feel guilty for not taking better care of myself during the pregnancy too. The doctors told me he was doing well, his heart beat was always great. They expressed concern for his size but said that the size of a baby is not a medical reason to take them early. My question is why not? There is only so much room in a persons for body to grow a little one and if they start to run out of room why wouldn't it be a good enough reason? I remember the last time I felt him move. It was March 26th, a monday evening and my husband and I had just finished a huge argument. We were both extremely exhausted, a family friend had passed and their funeral service had been earlier that day. We only had one week left before we were scheduled to have Gabriel via c-section. My husband had locked me out of our room in an attempt to drown out my annoying nagging, which I admit, became very apparent at the end of my pregnancy. In a mess of tears and anger I grabbed the truck keys and took off on a drive, not far, to a local Wendy's. I sat in the parking lot rubbing my huge round tummy, the tears falling fast. I told him how much I loved him, how everything was going to be okay. I whispered how I couldn't wait to meet him, that I was sorry he had to hear Daddy and I fighting. His last kick was faint, his foot slowly stretched out against my hand and I ran my fingers along the bottom of it. Instead of the normal quick withdrawal and kick his foot slipped back and didn't come out again. I didn't know it was the last time I would feel him alive, I didn't know that I should go to the hospital and I think it was the moment he left. Today was a day that started off okay, developed into pointless arguing, working out till sweat was pouring off of me, more arguing and then both of us collapsed on our beds crying our hearts out. No parent should ever have to suffer through this.

Afternoon Words

It is a beautiful day out today, not a single cloud in the sky. I wish Gabriel was here so we could take him to the park. I remember last summer after I had found out I would sit outside waiting for Gary to get off work. I would enjoy the breeze and the sounds of the birds, I would rub my tummy, even though I wasn't showing yet, and I would imagine how different my life would be a year from then. I didn't realize how truly different it would be. I always imagined days at the park with the baby, imagining his first little swimming suit (even though I wasn't sure if he was a boy or girl yet). I would imagine laying him out on a blanket and tickling the baby, smothering them with kisses and zoobers on their tummy. Now I am amazed at how different things turned out, I am still shocked. I question why was I chosen to carry this burden? Am I more like my grandmother than I thought? I started crying last night because I couldn't get in a good enough work out, I was aching to feel sore and tired from a good workout. I woke up yesterday thinking it was March 28th again, I was so excited to go to the doctors only to realize it has already been two months. We had our first meeting with a psychologist, he assured me I wasn't going crazy and he said he didn't see any major warning flags or crisis with how we are handling things. I just feel helpless, like, why couldn't I bring him back? Why was five days to many for him to hold on and be born?

Random Thoughts Of An Evening #2

I have noticed I am very much stuck in my anger right now. I am still finding random times where I don't believe that he is gone, I find myself crying quietly, the tears barely falling from my eyes. A lot of times I am in the car when this happens so I find myself turning my head to the window so my husband won't see me doing this. On this inside I am breaking. I feel like a windshield full of cracks just waiting for the day I will shatter into a million pieces. People tell me I am strong, they say I am handling this well and that I look good but how would they know? I am going insane! My pride and joy, my son that I love with every fiber of my soul and being is dead. I will never hear him laugh, I will never hear him call out to his mommy. For hours I imagine how different my life should have been, I get lost in the memories of him for hours on end. I feel alone. Everyone else is going about life when I feel stuck. I don't fit in anywhere. For the last two days I have been exercising, trying to wear myself out and keep myself from falling apart. I am exhausted to say the least. I want to cry. I wish I had someone right now, someone to hold onto me and let me cry. I wish I could just vent, I am so tired of people telling me how I should feel or to try and be positive...I just want to cry! I want to scream at the top of my lungs! I want to feel safe. Right now I feel so vulnerable, the world just feels so big and I want to be held. I want to be cuddled in close. I want to cry and not be strong even for just a few moments. I didn't choose for this to happen, I was dealt a card that I feel was unfair. I didn't want this future! I didn't ask for this but here I am, living day after day without my baby, without the child I dreamt of every night for nine months....