Pre-Op

Facebook status for today: I survived a waiting room full of pregnant women, got my blood work done (negative pregnancy test), $1,425 down payment = surgery pre-op done. (It was hard but I actually made it out of the OB's office without crying for the first time since last July.) Now, I just countdown to next Thursday and see what happens. Today, I needed a good reminder (and a good cry) that I was blessed even though the journey was short lived. Mommy loves you, little man! I thank God everyday that I was blessed to carry you all of your life. ♥

It was tough and I had to fight the tears a couple times but I did it... I made it through an OB visit without crying. Two ladies were talking in the waiting room (both pregnant with boys, I overheard). They were talking with an older lady there (who I overheard has 2 grown daughters) about just general pregnancy stuff. Part of me wanted them to ask me about my kids (I had Cameron with me) but then part of me was glad that they ignored me. One of the ladies was a first time mom and I just don't think I could've talked like Nathan didn't exist but I wouldn't want to scare her or give her a glimpse of a bad experience either.

I still remember the day I was "one of them". Just a normal day but... not normal at all. I sat in that waiting room pregnant and I remember thinking how great is was to be there and how wonderful my life was. I still remember what I was wearing: a Ronald McDonald house t-shirt and jeans. I remember Cameron playing with his Mr. Potato Heads. I remember the two cute (but obnoxious) little boys who walked over and helped themselves to his toys. I remember the very pregnant mama, who tried (not very hard) to get them to come back to her and leave us alone. That waiting room will never be the same place for me again. I think I left a part of myself in that waiting room and I have no idea how to get her back... or if I can even get her back. It like I'm still waiting there... waiting for my life to make sense, to understand what went wrong. I think even Cameron senses the change in that room. Today, as we were sitting there... I noticed him watching a little girl and her mom (who was very pregnant). Just the way he looked at the mom, it was like his wheels were turning but I don't know what he was thinking. I asked him what was wrong, if he was okay. He just laid his head against me and gave me a hug. I told him that he could talk to me about anything he was feeling or thinking. I told him that I understood... it made me a little sad to be there also.

It's so hard to go through this. I try so very hard not to project my emotions onto him or anyone else around me. I don't want attention or a pity party. I don't need people to feel sorry for me. People tell me that I'm brave and strong. Oh, how I wish I was. I feel so weak and lost. I'm doing my best to learn how to live this new life that I've been given. I mean, they don't give you a manual that explains how to continue living when your baby dies. You just have to wing it. Some days I feel like I'm doing it "right" and some days... I feel like a total failure.

I got my blood work done and it was so sweet... Cameron said he'd hold my hand. As she went to stick the needle in, he started patting my hand and said, "It's okay mama... it's okay." Man, I sure do love that boy! She told me that I could have the pregnancy test results if I wanted to wait about 5 minutes. I had to go and arrange payment, insurance information and all that... so I told her I'd be back. I walked back in and told her that I was back for my results. She said it was negative. I tried to smile as I said, "I figured it would be." I just turned around and walked out. I knew if I stayed, I'd break... I'd cry. I knew it would be negative but there was part of me that had a moment of sadness and disappointment when she said it. I'll probably test again, at home, the morning of the surgery... just because.

I watched the video behind the song and oh, my... tears!!! While I wish no parent had to lose a child, I can't imagine a more precious gift than to have the time to process and plan for those once in a lifetime moments... to have the chance to tell your baby the things you want to tell them, to hold them, to take in those few precious moments of having them in your life. To have the honor and privilege to be there as they enter the world and when they leave it... to know that your baby felt your love the whole time.

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Part of me still grieves for the birth experience I wish I'd had with Nathan. I'm still so bitter sometimes about what was taken from he and I. (I think a part of me always will be.) I wish I'd been able to bring him into the world and had the moments the Smith family had. I don't think carrying him longer would have made any difference in how much he was missed or how painful it would have been. I have this image... this "movie" in my head of how I wish things had gone. I think I'll always wonder what might have been... how different this experience could've been if things had been different. If he'd been a few weeks older, if Allen had been with me, if we'd been able to dress him, get footprints, have something he touched, had family there to love him with us... and on and on...