10 Days Away

When I think of updating the blog, my first thought is that I have nothing to say. That's obviously not true; maybe the real feeling is there is so much buzzing around in my brain that it is too much to shuffle through. It’s too exhausting to piece together cohesive thoughts that would have enough meaning for people to read.

We met with 8 different people at our appointment: the ultrasound tech, nurse practitioner, OB, anesthesiologist, genetic counselor, social worker, chaplain and psychiatrist. Just writing all those titles is exhausting. Imagine meeting with that many people to discuss the day that you will forever say goodbye to your child. Overwhelming and exhausting doesn't quite cover it.

Most of the questions, answers and information were medical until we met with the psychologist. We then went step-by-step of what to expect for October 20th. I got to visualize what it might be like physically, mentally and emotionally. Exhausting as it is, I think mentally preparing for this is really beneficial. We went through all the details and wrote a birth plan that each person on the team will read prior to Alexander's birth. This way, the crazy amount of people that will be a part of this day will know what to do, where to be, and what is expected. We even found out that people on the birthing team can FaceTime from the OR to the waiting room so that our immediate family can witness Alexander's first moments of life and his baptism. I was on the fence about this until I realized that if Alexander passes away before we even get to my recovery room my family, and especially Ana, would not have seen him alive. This thought absolutely breaks my heart. Before Alexander passes I so badly want Ana to hold her little brother. As terrible as it is, I need to mentally prepare that this might not happen.

We are 10 days away from saying hello and goodbye to our son. Heartbroken lacks what I'm feeling. When I visualize heartbreak I see a cartoon heart with one jagged crack running down the middle. My heart has been crushed and broken into millions of pieces. Scattered on the floor. Possibly and hopefully in the next weeks, months and years to come my heart will be glued and taped together but some pieces will be too small to find, too small to figure out where they fit into the puzzle. There will be missing pieces of my heart that will forever be with Alexander. I will not be completely whole again until I go to him in heaven.

With all the preparation for his birthday I know that the day itself will be painful. Unimaginably painful...but also beautiful. I want to meet our son. I want the chance to hold him and see his chubby cheeks and perfect lips. I want the chance to kiss his head and see his perfect baby feet. I want to see if he will be born with hair! I do not want to face the time when his heart stops beating. I do not want to say goodbye. I never in my wildest dreams thought this could happen. As I go toward that day I try to remember that even in my darkest times I have asked "God, where are you?"  I always hear a whisper "I am right here."

I love Alexander more than words can express and I believe there is purpose for his existence. I've thought maybe the only purpose is so that I can spend eternity with him in heaven. I talked to Dena about what we thought babies would be like in heaven. When I get there I like to imagine that Alexander could change ages so that I can have a chance to watch him grow up a little. I think maybe for the first 5,000 years of eternity I'll just hold him, rock and sing to him. I think once I get to heaven I'll have a really beautiful voice.

Maybe his purpose is something less selfish, maybe something bigger than I can imagine. Maybe through this story of love and loss, faith and growth someone out there will be moved. May I dare say inspired? Changed? Maybe after Alexander's story they will now see beauty in their pain and love during their loss. Maybe God will show them purpose through their heartbreak, peace during the storms and strength in their weakest moments.

Good Days...Bad Days

Good days, bad days is an understatement.

Somedays I feel light. I can walk further, stand taller. My mind is clear and my heart is full of love. “It’s okay” echos in my mind, which I know is a whisper from God. My future is full of possibilities. I am physically pain free. I see absolute beauty in our circumstances. I am so thankful for him and full of love for who he is and how he has been a part of our lives. This is a blessing. I am excited to meet and hold my son. I am thrilled to celebrate his birthday and I look forward to October 20th. I am full of love and light. I am full of joy, and as painful as it is that I know we will only have a short amount of time together, I am joyful that Alexander will be in heaven with his heavenly father. I am filled with joy that Alexander gets to experience heaven and God and will be forever surrounded by love and light that is unfathomable to us here on earth. I am also comforted that he will never know of pain, tears, hurt and sorrow.

Somedays the weight of reality is unbearable. The weight of the reality hits me hard. It lands causing tangible knots in my shoulders. Sometimes it is hard to breath. My jaw is sore from what I can only imagine is from grinding my teeth the night before. Smiling seems foreign. Not always but sometimes these days are paired with a headache at the base of my skull. My heart is broken, my mind is foggy. Sometimes I don’t even realize I am in this state until that night or 3 days later. I don’t think many people would know that I feel this way. I dread my c-section date since I know that means the clock will start ticking with the time we have with our son. After this day, the terrifying reality hits that he will no longer be with us, no longer safe inside.

Light and heavy feelings can last for minutes, hours or days. I am scared to face Alexander’s death. I am scared that the heaviest feelings are yet to come. That these feelings will not last for days but weeks, maybe months, maybe years.