Short Story

I finally ventured to some websites I found on the Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope website. I stopped over at a Glow in the Woods' site. I just read the most powerful thing I've read, probably in my whole life. It took me about an hour to read it and the posts below it, through my tears. I must say though, it got me thinking and before I even realized it... I had hit the submit button to post a reply. I think it's the most honest I've been since Nathan died. It kinda scares me... but it also feels good.

I've tried so hard to be considerate of everyone around me. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don't like people to see me cry or be upset. I didn't realize what a good actress I was. I smile and tell everyone "I'm okay" when they ask. I think part of me actually believes it. But then the other part of me, is mad and angry... yelling, "How can you be so 'blah' about this?" I wonder some days why I'm taking this "so well". People have said they can't believe how strong I am... especially for wanting to start Nathan's project so soon after his death. I don't really have an answer. I just know that NOBODY should ever have the regrets I have. No mother should have to write the reply I wrote to the short story...

Here's the link to read the story...
http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/2011/8/25/short-story.html

and here's my reply...

I've been reading the posts above through my tears. I think this is the most powerful thing I've read since I lost my baby.

What wouldn't my future self say? I have so many regrets. I would record the 12-week ultrasound so that I would have video of my baby alive and moving. I would hit the send button to call my husband when I learned they couldn't find a heartbeat at the 4 month appointment, instead of hanging up during the first ring and driving my 3 year old and I home. I would ask more questions to understand and know what was going to happen during and after delivery. I would buy an outfit and blanket... even if it was for a doll out of the toy department. Something... anything... to lessen the shock of having him handed to me in a standard newborn hospital blanket. To have something he touched, to take home and hold when I miss him and want to cry. I would insist that my husband stay with me at the hospital and be with me as I brought our second son into the world after 12 hours of labor. I wouldn't care about being embarrassed or about anyone else's comfort level as I held my dead child in my arms. I would take pictures... tons of pictures. Yes, a baby who is 16 weeks, 5 day gestation is tiny... beyond tiny. No, they don't look like a chubby, bundle of joy. But take the damn pictures anyway; they are the only mementoes you will ever have! When you lay awake at 2am, begging your brain to let you remember the tiny details of him... you will want those pictures. It will be comforting to see that, yes, he had your nose and his daddy's forehead and long legs. Just shy of 17 weeks, you will look at the pictures and marvel at how God could create such an amazing, tiny person; every tiny detail, already formed and in place. I would insist on having the same things as a mom delivering a live baby. I would demand to have length and weight measurements, instead of measuring him with my hand and never knowing how much he weighed. I would tell the nurse to try again, when she tells me they couldn't get footprints. I would tell her that I don't care if all she gets is a foot smudge. I don't need a picture perfect set of footprints... I just want something, anything to remind me that was my son real. Screw the nurse about to take my blood pressure. I would hold him instead of telling them I was ready for them to take him after only 30 minutes. I would cry when I felt like it, instead of holding it all in. I would care less about making sure everyone around me is comfortable. I would not try so hard to act okay, while crumbling on the inside. I would care less about what other people think. I would feel less ashamed of grieving and tell myself it's okay to feel however I want to feel. 

I would gladly relive the pain and heartbreak all over again for just one more chance to hold him... even knowing the outcome would be the same.