11 months ago

Eleven months ago, I delivered our baby, Joey at 16 weeks, that's 24 weeks too early.  It was honestly the most emotionally painful thing I have ever gone through.  It was worse than I could have imagined.  My doctor prepared me that I would be sad longer than anyone else and that it could have an affect my relationships.  And he was right.  I've always been very social, very outgoing, etc.  But now, I feel like I am distancing myself from people.  Big crowds make me anxious and uncomfortable.  Talk of babies, seeing babies makes me cry... sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad tears for my loss.  Even just small get-togethers and church functions were becoming less and less.  I didn't want to talk to people on the phone or in person.  I preferred texting of emailing.  I just never knew when I would hear something or see something that made me remember my loss.  I was getting better until we lost Bowie and I can feel it again.  I feel like I need to take a Xanax before I have company come over so that I can maintain my sanity!

The memories are so strong.  They take me right back to the hospital room... I can hear the stupid machines beeping, I can smell the cleaning supplies.... all of it.  Every little detail.  We found out early in the day that Joey had passed away and we spent time making arrangements to go back to the hospital that night, so I didn't drink or eat much at all the rest of the day.  I was dehydrated when I got to the hospital that evening, so it took the nurses multiple times to get my IV started and my arms really took a beating!  I had bruises for weeks.

Early the next morning, I delivered a baby that weighed less than an ounce (that's right - he weighed .9 ounces) and was 4.5 inches long.  He was tiny.  Labor for him was painful, as far as the cramping went, but getting him out wasn't a hard or long process.  I just cried when he was delivered. It seemed like time stood still. He was so small and perfect, but he was gone.  My baby was gone.  Dead.  Never to breathe a breath; never to cry; never to hear my or Bonham's voice; never to meet his sister and brothers.  It's all so unfair.  Joey would not be coming home to live with us.

Being wheeled out of labor and delivery, I was so worried that someone would say, "Congratulations" as we went down the hall, so I hung my head down as far as I could and I just sobbed.  You know that big, uncontrollable sobbing where your shoulders rhythmically go up and down and you can't control the actual sounds that come out of your mouth?  Yeah, that's the one.  I didn't care who saw me.... let them say something to me!

I left the hospital empty handed, with the exception of the box of keepsakes the hospital gave me.  I got home and tried to start acting normal again.  The problem was that I was never going to be normal.  A loss like this changes, I mean really changes, who you are and who you are going to be.... I used to be so happy all of the time.  But this change is different.  It's deeper.  It's a kind of different where you start wondering.... "Why go on making others miserable with my attitude?  Maybe I should stop talking... they are getting uncomfortable. Am I ruining my family's life for being so sad?  Am I ruining my life?  Will I ever be happy again?"

I almost feel guilty having happy times with my three other children.  Like in a way, I am betraying Joey and Bowie - like saying that I'm not missing them.  But I am missing them.  I hate that they are missing fun with their siblings.  That might not make sense....

I know that life has to go on.  People die all of the time.  I've had several people try to compare the loss of another loved one to my loss.  It's not the same.  I am not claiming to understand your grief and pain.  But most people grow up knowing that their parents will die, their older siblings will die, and eventually their friends, and then themselves.  But tell me who gets pregnant and plans their child's death????  Anyone you know of?  Probably not.... they are planning outfits, pictures, names, decorations, toys, education, careers, all of the things parents should get a chance to do.

I didn't get to that stage with Joey where I was planning lots of details about his birth.  I was still trying to let it sink in that I was pregnant until about a week to two before we lost him.  And then he was gone!  Poof!  Then I wrestled with thoughts of "Should we?" or  "Should we not?" when deciding on trying again.....

When I left the hospital after having Joey and I had all of those bruises up and down my arms, I remember being embarrassed for people to see them.  I didn't want people to see them and think I was abused or had a drug problem.  But I didn't want my bruises to go away either....  I remember rubbing my fingers over the bruises and watching them fade away.  I was so, so sad when they were gone.  I still had a piece of him physically with me on my body when the bruises were there. :(

This is kind of how I feel about Bowie.  I want my incision to heal so that I can move on and be as close to normal as possible.  I want to have energy to exercise and play with my kids.  I want to go swimming, ride roller coasters, bend over and stand up without pain or discomfort.  I want to be normal and healthy.  But.... I don't want the piece of Bowie to be gone.  I know I will have a scar, but it's not the same.

I've appreciated the meals and visits from friends while I've been recovering, but it's not about that.  I don't want people to expect me to be healed emotionally because I am healed physically.  That's what I think will happen, because every one of you reading this can move on about your daily life and you don't have to think about Joey and Bowie.  Some of you will; maybe when you think about me.  But I think of them constantly.  I still have to remind myself that I am not pregnant..  How strange is that?  I haven't been pregnant in almost 6 weeks and I will still stop myself from handling certain items or I worry about tripping over something and falling on my belly.  There isn't a baby in there.  Falling on my belly will only hurt me.  I can drink whatever/whenever.  I can take Advil again.   I can ride rides and waterslides with the kids.  I don't have to worry about getting a bigger car to fit everyone.  I don't have to go through the sleepless nights again with a newborn.  George will be done with diapers in the next few months (fingers crossed).  We have a good routine with the 3 children we have and that won't be disrupted by having to work around a baby's nap and eating schedule....  See?  There are so many positive  things about not having another baby....  I am trying to convince myself that this worked out for the best to only have the 3 kids I have.  But if that was the way it was meant to be, that's messed up for God to create life inside of me twice, just to take it back....

But you know what?  This doesn't matter if this was the way it was supposed to be.  It doesn't change the way I feel. 

I wanted another baby... another child in my home, tearing up my stuff, keeping me awake at night, peeing on my floor, throwing food, having a snotty nose, busting 50 times trying to walk for the first time, throwing fits, biting his siblings, and all of the other "lovely" things that little boys do.  I wanted it,  Me.  Bonham.  Our children.  We all wanted these babies.  But no.... it wasn't meant to be that way and I am resentful right now on the 11th month anniversary to the start of the roughest year of my life!

Our sweet Joey baby.... so tiny, so perfectly formed by God.  Human life is a miracle and you proved that with your tiny hands and feet!  What a little miracle.  Thank you for choosing me as your mommy!  We love you!