Saturday, April 15, 2017

The Final Storm to My Rainbow- Baby Boy's Due Date

Today is the day he was due to be born. To say I have been dreading this day is an understatement. This day will most likely be harder than the first anniversary of his death because first of all, I am pregnant and hormones/emotions run high, and secondly, I will *hopefully* be holding my rainbow baby that same month- easing the pain of the situation. Fittingly it is supposed to rain today and I really hope there is a rainbow. As I explain what happened to people I can usually refer to this date with a shrug and a smile and say something positive and refer to a cliche phrase and a joke so I don't cry, but I know that is just a cover-up.

This is a day that used to be such an exciting date for Matt and me to wait for and is now a date I will always wonder about. Would he have come on this day? Statistically not. But here I sit, crying and holding on to the only day I would think he would be born because that is the only day I have now aside from the day I lost him which goes down as single worst day of my life. The day I can remember like yesterday- knowing as we drove back to the hospital there wouldn't be a heartbeat because I hadn't felt him that night... deciding to forgo pain medication during the induction as physical pain seemed fitting to go with my broken heart... screaming for someone to help me as I had him 19 hours later in the bathroom of Beaumont Hospital (To this day I am forever grateful that Matt had stepped out of the room for the first time in days during these moments) ... and finally, holding him and thinking how he looked exactly like the last ultrasound picture I had of him- little button nose and all...spending the night crying with Matt afterwards as reality set in that he was gone. Days have gotten easier, but even though I am pregnant again, not a day goes by that I do not think about him. It's hard to let go that it was me that was the problem, he was perfect. I held him and he was so frail, but perfect, and it is my fault his heart stopped, it was my body that couldn't give him what he needed. I still wonder why I couldn't fight that infection, why my body couldn't hold onto him. I have tried to stop questioning my own actions and "what if-ing" that pregnancy, but I am honestly still plagued with pain and guilt, forever changed, and with a new perspective.

 The first and last pictures I have of Baby Boy

As I look back through my box, the box they give you of mementoes of the child you lost so you don't leave the hospital with nothing, I am overwhelmed with emotions. It contains forget-me-nots, a knitted blanket, and a necklace from strangers who put together gifts for people in my situation so it doesn't hurt so badly. It contains a measuring tape marked with how long he was (7.5"), the blanket I held him in, still stained with blood, his ultrasound photos, and his tiny footprints the nurse did for me. It also contains letters from people I know well and those I don't know at all, expressing empathy, condolences and love. I also have necklace and bracelet that I wear, one stating "Brave" and the other of the April birthstone to remember him that are not in the box that have meant so much to me.

Most importantly this box contains his ashes, thoughtfully done for free, that Matt and I plan to spread today at the site where we got married. Letting go of his ashes is not me letting go of him, it just seems fitting to officially say good-bye to the physical pieces of him as I have the memories and mementoes in my tiny box.

One of the hardest parts about today is that I am 16 weeks. The number of weeks I was when I lost him. You could say life is funny that way, but I don't think it's funny at all. Ironic? Yes. Funny? No. It is my nature not to assume any hidden meaning or higher power's influence in this coincidence, it's just another cruel part of this that makes me want to get through today. Everyday I make it beyond today is one step closer to holding my rainbow baby and I am very grateful for that. Baby Boy you have forever changed me and I will try and focus on the positive of what you taught me about myself and my own strength, and thank you for this baby I am carrying that wouldn't exist without the misfortune of events ending October 31, 2016. We will remember and miss you always. 

1 comment:

  1. Oh Ash, this was beautiful & sad, heartbreaking yet encouraging. We are with you in your grief and rejoice in the thought of meeting the little rainbow. Lean on the strength of Matt, your close family, your Maven family and the higher power of no coincidences, Blessings & love~The Berlin's