Homesick

Laying in bed last night, Tim and I were about to watch the last episode on our Entourage DVD...

The last of the steri-strips covering my incision were coming off, so I just removed them and we stared at the scar on my stomach. Its the only scar on my body and its a lot bigger than I had expected. Tim asked me, "Is it worth it?" and then he answered..."of course it is."

I was thinking it but just couldn't say anything. 

Instant sadness. Instant tears.

And at moments like that it gets so overwhelming. Waking up this morning it still is. 

Mornings are overwhelming. I want to pull the sheets over my head and go back to sleep...because when I am sleeping, I don't have to think about reality.

They say that starting a new job is as stressful as someone dying. So what does that do to your mind and body when you really do have the stress of a new job (Tim), and your first child dies, and you have just moved 2000 miles across the country?

I am finding myself in a very strange position. So glad we moved home, yet missing the routine...the familiarity.... of our lives in California. I have no sense of normal here yet. 

Nothing to do with my time, nothing to go back to as far as a job.

This also makes me grieve the life I thought I was beginning here...

Grieve the loss of Will and the hope we had in him.

School is right around the corner. I am left with only one option right now...Substitute teach.

Not thrilling.

Literally, even more depressing.

Like I said. Monday and Tuesday morning are really hard. A brand new week, that I don't want to start...So today I am heading down to Toledo for a few days to get out of here. Tim works insane hours anyways, so I might as well see some family...and yet its still hard to leave this house. 

Lonely as it is.

This feeling is so surreal. It is like a dream, that this can't really be it...this can't be my life now...it wasn't supposed to be like this.

I tried to explain it to Tim. Its like the saying, "Home is where your heart is..."

This feeling is literally like being so, so homesick that I can't even function.

Because my heart is with Will.

And I always find myself thinking the same question...

What am I supposed to do now?

Peace

Waking up today wasn't as painful as its been lately. I actually felt a sense of peace and didn't want to start crying the moment my eyes fell upon Will's picture. Very surprised by this for a number of reasons:

1. Its another Saturday (number 3 to be exact)

2. Tim was heading off to work all day

3. mornings are the worst

and...

4. Tonight is my 10 year high school reunion

Not exactly how I pictured myself going to this thing, in fact, I really don't want to go. Not just for the obvious reasons of being sad and depressed (so much so that both Tim & I are vowing not to drink whatsoever tonight). I know that I am looking rough...or fabulous if people actually knew that I only gave birth by c-section a mere 3 weeks ago.

But without an explanation or baby in sight, most people just think I got a little fat.

So since I am going to be a good sport for some friends, I also gave my best friend permission to talk about me behind my back and tell people so I don't get asked all the uncomfortable questions. 

In our house we call this "damage control."

And then I started thinking about how I really don't have good answers to anything someone might ask me...

"What do you do?" ... uh, nothing. I don't have a job...

"Do you have any kids?"    ...Yes, but...

"Are you still in California?"     ...no, we moved to Rockford (a FAR cry from the OC)...

"So what have you been up to?"   ...where do I begin?...

"What do you plan on doing now?"    ...I have no darn idea...

And the funny thing is...I really don't care. 

I'm indifferent about just about everything. 

Truth be told: I would rather be sitting at home or in the NICU staring at my baby. 

Is that the moment when you know you are a parent...or you want to be and can't?

So now, do I really feel at peace or am I just numb? 

Because this week I have had moments where I swear I am having a mid-life crisis...only way to early.

I pray for some direction...and some purpose.

And also that tonight isn't painful. That I can keep it together.

I'm sure the next post will be interesting regardless...

hopefully it'll be funny. I could use a good laugh.

3 weeks

Oh, how things have changed since 3 weeks ago today...

Tim and I have been doing a good job this week of making sure only 1 of us is a complete wreck while the other is having a decent day. My insane days were Monday and Tuesday, while Tim followed with yesterday and today...the day we both completely lose it...well, then we'll really be in trouble.

My eagerly-anticipated charm arrived yesterday...something that I had found while searching on the internet months ago in the hospital. Two of my best girlfriends made sure that this handmade charm found its way to me (they are awesome). It simply has Will engraved on the front and 7.17.08 on the back. I tried to take pictures to post, but my camera wouldn't focus on the tiny letters. Regardless, if you see me, you'll see the necklace because it will be around my neck every single day.

Anyways, I needed a chain for it. So I went to the mall. Was doing fine, trying on different things...and then the old women helping me asked,

"Is Will the name of a person?...Or a desire?"

I know I looked down as tears filled my eyes and I said,

"Both."

Crap. It was the way she asked that made me cry...who uses the word desire anyway? Nothing left to do but explain. Explain how he was born 3 weeks ago today and then died two days later...and how much I desired for him to be here with me now. Her eyes filled with tears, and I knew she felt terrible...time for me to get out of there. I thanked her and decided I'd had enough of the mall for today.

What is up with making so many people cry all the time? 

My nurses, sales people, my family, and I even made Tim cry at work the other day.

So not cool. I'm use to making people laugh at what I say...not cry.

And I'm also not use to asking so many questions in my head. Trying to make sense of Will's death and why it happened is like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole, it just isn't going to happen. Its made me do a lot of searching. And, ask a lot of questions.

Both of which made me question myself and if I was lacking faith.

But now I see that my faith has increased through these questions and this hardship. And while cleaning out some boxes this week I came across a book I had bought years ago and wasn't ready to read.

Until today.

Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell...

I won't say much about it, other than it has made me feel that asking these sorts of questions was, scratch that-IS, okay...

There are many things I don't put on this blog but they still roll around in my head.

Like how I cry in the shower and swear aloud to no one in particular because this sucks.

And ask why when I see teenagers smoking while toting around a baby carrier.

And why do decent, good people always seem to have bad things happen to them.

How come Will only lived 52 hours, most of which I spent sleeping...if only I would have known...why didn't I know? Where was my "mother's intuition"?

And wonder why my baby was taken after we already suffered so much after the loss in September.

And why all the drug addicts I saw in the hospital take home babies and I went home empty handed...

And then I also ask myself,

"Is it worse to stare at a shadow box containing your husband's military medals and the folded flag that covered the coffin, or a shadow box with pictures of your newborn and the tiny bracelet and knit cap he wore for mere hours?"

Too many questions.

I don't have any of the answers. And I won't understand in this life. 

But I do know that my life could be so very different right now...

at least I have an amazing husband who is here to go through this with me...

and so I have to take comfort in knowing that God is so much bigger than any of us can ever begin to imagine.

Favorite thing.

This morning I felt compelled to read back over some of my earlier postings and realized how grateful I am that I began to write. This blog wasn't started for anyone in particular, but it grew into a daily account of the journey we have traveled with Will. 

Someday soon, I will print off each posting and put it in his memory box, because I know with time, many of my memories will grow hazy. 

Details may be forgotten.

And due to the emotional trauma of this event, some details have already been pushed aside...

I pray that as time passes some may come back to me.

So, I want to write about him while it is still fresh...as painful as that can be, maybe it will help if I write down and record all the details about him. Before these days slowly fade into the past, and eventually become years. I want to remember as much about Will as I possibly can.

Every little detail...actually there are many...

Even in a life that only lasted 52 hours outside the womb.

I'll start with my most favorite thing: his left foot.

During my stay in the hospital, I got to have an ultrasound nearly every week. Without water Will never moved around. He was breach and his position was really strange.

He was looking to my left side, his back to my right...

Hands in a praying position near his face...

One leg down...and then his left leg up by his head.

My baby was doing the splits.

As the weeks wore on, I asked the doctors if this would hurt him. They had warned me that without fluid some babies came out kind of crunched or certain body parts appeared to be deformed...for lack of a better word. This was due to the uterus enclosed around them.

The day of his birth, I was scared out of my mind. Ready to finally meet him, but not ready for all the uncertainty that lay ahead.

All I remember: Tim says, "He's out..." and he has tears in his eyes. A flurry of doctors begin working on him and I can't see a thing.

Then I catch my first glimpse and catch my breath. His whole left side is crunched up...his hand is bent back and his left leg looks like it is dangling. His foot is in some weird position.

My stomach sank...

But oh, his face...he looked like a little, angry old man. His little hat looked like it was something from a Dr. Seuss book. And we both fell in love with this baby, crunched body and all.

As the hours after his birth passed, we were able to finally go see him. That is when we noticed it...the toes on his left foot had a large gap between them. It looked so goofy and I couldn't help but laugh.

The time passed, and each time we went down to the NICU his body had slowly begun relaxing into its normal shape. His hand was no longer bent, his left leg stretched out and looked no different that his right. But that foot, while the foot itself began to look better, his toes still had that gap. 

It became his trademark.

I scoffed when the doctors asked if this was a family thing. No one in either of our families had toes that looked like Dr. Spock's famous hand gesture. Seriously.

To me, it made perfect sense...that little foot had been the pain I felt pressed up by my ribs. Obviously, he had positioned the foot perfectly so that something allowed his toes to be moved and separated just so.

The one thing that had totally freaked me out, soon became his most famous characteristic...all of his footprints will forever have this pattern. 

And it became one of our most beloved things about him. 

Because it was just him...just Will.

No one else.

I know, with time, they would have straightened out. The rest of him did.

But what a cute blessing to have for such a short time. 

Because whether I am having a good or bad day, laughing or crying, 

I can look at a picture of his left foot and smile...and not help but giggle.

Tuesday.

I can't stop crying.

Yesterday was bad, today is even worse...

About 5 different blogs have been written, but I just can't bring myself to post them...my words are a mix of grief, anger, and rambling. Its safe to say that this mourning process has gone from the stage of shock & disbelief...to anger. Not where I want to be, but here I am non-the-less.

This morning I attempted to leave the house and do some stuff. Got about a mile down the road and turned around, went home, put on my bathrobe (over my clothes), laid in bed and cried...a lot. 

Looking through Will's scrap book, I just can't believe he's gone. I think about how hard I worked to make his little body. All the nasty hospital food I literally choked down just to help him gain weight, the pills, the months of bed rest, the shots, not drinking any caffeine for nearly 6 months...

I tried so, so hard. And now all those things seem so trivial.

And now that little body is gone. I can never see or hold him again in this lifetime. 

It is now ashes that sit on top of the armoire in a heart-shaped urn next to his pictures...

It is no bigger than a paperweight.

All I can keep doing is asking myself...

"what am I supposed to do now?"

The only answer I get is...grieve...

I have no distractions, no excuses, no way to put this off. So now the only thing I am supposed to do, all that I can do, is grieve the loss of Will.

And it is a tremendous loss.

Saturday nights

Two weeks ago right now we were holding him. 

For both the first and the last time...

And now I have to wonder, am I going to stop whatever I am doing every Saturday night at 6:00 and think back to that moment? 

Last week I did...at his memorial celebration.

Tonight we did...as we walked among hundreds of people at Grand Haven. 

But tonight was different somehow, we had some distractions, and for that I am grateful. 

Finally, a decent day. I cried some, but not like yesterday. 

We'll see what tomorrow brings...

Losing it.

Today is by far the hardest day I've had since Will's death.

I don't know why or how this day is any different than those that came before, it just is.

Maybe its just that I can't help but thinking we were so close to the end of the pregnancy, or that today I would have been 34 weeks, or that now it is August and I would have been due next month.

That is what makes the death of Will so painful, all the crushed hopes and dreams of our future. As Tim and I lay talking last night I told him for the first time in my life I couldn't picture anything for our future. He described it best...

When we left California (and even before) we had a whole picture in our minds drawn out on a page, things and dreams that we were looking forward to...plans for our new family.

Two weeks ago that page in our book was torn out, leaving only a view of a new page. Completely blank and stark white. Waiting to be filled up again...but we aren't ready.

So today I didn't want to, but I had to get out of the house. During this time I realized just how foggy my mind has gotten. I stopped to get gas and pulled the car up on the wrong side where there is no gas tank. Ugh. Honest mistake...well, I pulled around and then did the same thing on the other side of the pump. And then again. It just wasn't clicking in my head. The people at the gas station must have thought I was completely insane. I was so disgusted with myself that I just gave up and drove home (without getting the gas). Why am I actually admitting to this embarrassment? I have no idea...maybe because I don't know whether to laugh or cry at how stupid that is.

All I know is that losing Will is making me lose my mind.