A letter

A mother came to me. She lost her son - same heart defect. Same tragic ending. She asked me about Sawyer. This is what I wrote.

We were told Sawyer had Truncus Type 4 - which is also classified as a severe form of Tetrology of Fallot. He also had pulmonary atresia - which meant - his pulmonary artery never formed. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I didn't know any of this. When I was 24 weeks along, my fluid was very low - so low that they couldn't see the heart. So I was put on bedrest and I waited. Unfortunately, I didn't wait very long.

At 28 weeks, my water broke - then my placenta detached - I started to bleed out. I was rushed in for an emergency c-section and was not awake. Sawyer was born - limp, no heartbeat.

Somehow, they managed to revive him - only to have the cruel hand of fate deal us a bad card. The day after he was born - they told us about his heart. And how there probably wasn't anything they would be able to do. So we waited.

That night, Sawyer got worse. And worse. Finally, nothing they could do would help him any more, and we took him off life support. He died in my arms while I cried, my tears fell upon his face. He was gone.

I don't understand it. I still can't figure out how a baby made with so much love could have a broken heart. I've cried so much that the tears have made a permanent path down my cheeks. And they are huge tears. Tears only a mother cries for the baby she doesn't have in her arms.

Every day, I carry it all, while carrying him.

Grievance

I was having a chat with another babylost mom last night and she brought up the topic of things she now hates.

There is a dresser, full of her son's baby clothes that she has yet to put away - there is hate there. In preparation for a long stay in the NICU she bought tupperware to conveniently bring food back and forth to the hospital. She hates that too. At one point, she said that it sounded silly to hate tupperware, but - I get it.

I hate going into my daughter's newly painted room. It is a bright and sunny yellow. The day before Sawyer was born, I helped my husband tape the walls because my dad was coming over the next day to paint. It was going to be the baby's room and Sadie's room. And the color we picked was a beautiful sea green.

So, in my closet, sits this bucket of paint. Oh, I hate that bucket.

I bought these cute white baskets - with a checked green liner - just for Sawyer. I had them full of his things, neatly arranged in our linen closet and filled with his little ducky towels, blue bath rags, burp cloths and blankets. I hated those baskets so much that they were one of the first things I begged Erik to take and hide behind the basement stairs after Sawyer died.

I hate the minivan we bought because our family was growing. Now, the seat next to Sadie sits empty. It's ghostly almost.

I hate how Sadie's bedroom feels so empty to me now. There is supposed to be a crib, a changing table, a baby swing. It looks almost barren with just her bed and tall, narrow dresser.

People say that hate is such a strong word. But when your grief takes over you, the hate comes along with it.

Once upon a time...

Sadie woke up crying this morning.

I was in the shower and could hear her on the monitor. I turned off the water and stepped out to dry off while her crying continued to get louder.

I quickly wrapped a towel around me while my mommy instincts kicked into overdrive and I rushed into her room.

I asked her what was the matter and she was sitting straight up in bed, trembling and kept repeating to me over and over, "I want my baby brother, I want Sawyer."

Since this has all happened, we've tried to be very gentle with her in explaining what happened to Sawyer - while being very honest at the same time. She asks me to tell her the story of her brother and I tell it in the only way a two-year-old can comprehend...

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Sadie. And she had a Mommy and a Daddy and a baby brother named Sawyer. One day, God saw that Mommy and Daddy loved each other so much, that he put a baby in Mommy's tummy. One day, Mommy and Sawyer got very sick and they drove in the car to go see the doctor. Mommy went to sleep and the doctor took Sawyer out of Mommy's tummy. Mommy got better, but Sawyer was still very sick. Soon, God came to Sawyer and said it was time to come to heaven. And Mommy and Daddy were there when Sawyer became an angel. He is watching over you and he loves you very much. And now, Sawyer is forever an angel in heaven's sky. The end.

Over the past week, Sadie and I have visited a some friends with little babies at home. It's also been the first time that she's been around other babies and hasn't pointed to them and asked if they were her "baby brother!"

I think she finally understands that the other babies aren't Sawyer, and that Sawyer really is gone and that he's not coming home. I tried so hard this morning not to cry in front of her, but I couldn't hold back the pain of seeing my little girl so upset and missing her brother so much.

I wish she could have held him. I know she would have loved every moment of having him here in our lives. She is an amazing big sister. And she loves her Sawyer so much.

Fear takes over

I am afraid.

Afraid to get pregnant again and afraid for every pregnant woman I see. When I look at pregnancy now, all I see is a ticking time bomb.

Mothers walking around, their faces glow and beam. And I think to myself, you have no idea.

One of the most beautiful and precious gifts of life is tainted. My body failed me, and there is no reason why. My son is buried and my arms are empty.

I feel everything hitting me so much harder now. I've heard that it gets better, but I'm still waiting and waiting.

Sadie plays alone. Sawyer's crib is hidden behind the stairs with a white sheet draped over the top. It shouldn't be like this!

I've been focusing a lot of my anger into organizing a walk for mothers to honor and remember their babies that have been taken too soon. I can't just sit here, idly waiting for life to get better. And I'm trying so hard to just try.

And again, life goes on - and I'm still trying to adjust to the "different."

The first "Sawyer's Heart Memory Box"

Here is the first memory box made in Sawyer's honor. The news of the baby and family that were in need of this came so quick, that I had such little time to put it all together.

I wanted them to have something special - something like we had. It's cruel enough that we have to leave the hospital without our babies, but to leave with nothing would be the worst thing of all.

So, included in the first basket was a plaster kit for the baby's tiny feet. A beautiful, pink blanket, "When Hello Means Goodbye," a box of "no-more milk tea" and a book that we read to Sawyer named "Sleep Baby Sleep."

I know this was our first box, and I didn't have much time to put it together (and trust me, I'm going to be more prepared from now on) - but what types of things did your hospital or bereavement counselors provide you with when your baby died? I want to make these even bigger and better for the future and am open to any suggestions.

xoxo ~ Michelle

Fly high

A beautiful couple that attended the same birth class as we did, lost their baby girl this morning.

I don't know details. And really, does any of that even matter?

I am calling on all of you for prayers. Pray as hard as you can for this mother who has yet to deliver her daughter. Pray for her pain, her anguish and the soon-to-be-overwhelming grief that will consume her.

Pray for her to have strength. The worst days are yet to come.

Pray for her to have comfort. It is all she will have to hold on to.

Please, share this blog with as many people as you can. I want her to feel our prayers, thoughts, vibes - whatever it is that you do - please give them to this mother who is living the nightmare that is infant loss.

I will carry you

Overcome with exhaustion, I decided to lie down late this afternoon. I fell asleep almost immediately and had a dream that was so vivid and alive that I woke up instantly when it had ended. Stumbling - consumed with fatigue - I had to grab my journal off the dresser and write. I didn't even know what I had written until I finished.

It was a moment where the words poured out of me - rare - and one I won't forget...

August 1, 2010
2 months since you've been gone.

Days and days with no sleep and I finally just crashed, collapsed.

I don't remember falling asleep - it was instant.

I had a dream. Same life as I live now. Sawyer is dead - life has moved on - but we never buried him. It was my choice.

Wherever I went - I would take his tiny body and carry it with me.

He wasn't anything awful to look at. It was just, simply, Sawyer - and he was dead. And I didn't care - and I loved him - and I carried him around to prove it to every single person that could see me.

And as I furiously write, to not forget, I realize, that is exactly what I have doing the entire time - this unthinkable image is real.

You might not see Sawyer - but he is here - and I am carrying him with me everywhere I go. Every single moment of every single day for the rest of my life.

And this dream has helped me to realize that he really is with me - and it is a beautiful burden that I must endure.

And life goes on - and I carry Sawyer through it all.