I thought we were doing well.
Today, was hard. Such a small word to describe the enormous pain of reliving every moment of one tiny life.
I feel so much guilt.
We were getting ready to go to bed and I couldn't remember if I prayed the night before he died. I looked at Erik - my eyes filling with tears, "Did I even pray? I must not have prayed hard enough."
How many times did we visit the NICU on his second day? Was it really only three? What kind of mother visits her sick, premature son only three times in an entire day? I never should have left his side. I wouldn't have ever left his side if I knew...
The last visit we had with him was perfect. I held onto his tiny hand and stroked his delicate cheek. I remember talking with his nurse, we were all so hopeful for Sawyer.
The last thing I said to my baby was that I was sorry for not being there more. That every single day I would be able to visit longer and longer as my body healed from the c-section.
It was so hard to leave him that night because he looked so good. His color, his stats - he was stable for the first time since he was born. We went to sleep with peaceful minds, thinking that we had better rest up because the coming weeks and months that were ahead of us were going to be long.
If I only knew...
6 comments:
{{{ Michelle }} I want to tell you not to feel that way.. How hard it is to stand by and watch your child in the NICU, how you did the best you could.. but those words won't help. I'm sorry. Im sorry this journey is so hard. Big hugs to you.
This touches home with me. I too have incredible guilt for not visiting my son more in the PICU. He was stable, doing good, recovering well from surgery, then out of the blue his heart stopped. I'm so sorry mama. My dad told me (before any of this happened) that guilt is an irrational feeling. It has helped me with some things...its harder to tell yourself your guilt is irrational in times like this. But maybe it might help you. ((hugs))
I feel such a pang as I read this because I know what you're talking about. We had the moment, even the day before Ewan died, of "He looks so good!"
And then we decided to spend the night at home for the first time in 9 days. I didn't know that's the last time I was going to see him awake, and I've regretted it more than anything.
I could tell you all those things that I know in my head to be true about how you did the best you could, how you could not have known, how it isn't about praying hard enough. But I can't say them to you if I can't say them honestly to myself.
I'm sorry this is as difficult and as heart-crushing as it is. If only ...
Hugs. I know. Michelle. Wish I could be there in person to just "be" with you.
Thinking of you. Remember, we are provided only the information that God feels we need to know. There are reasons for not knowing what we didn't know, and we may not ever know the why behind them. They knew our love, they fought hard to spend as long as they did with us and that strength was built on love.
I remember feeling those exact same feelings. It's so hard to get past the guilt. You are a wonderful mother and you did nothing wrong, but it's hard to accept that. We are mothers who are supposed to protect our children and when their lives are taken away we can only blame ourselves. I hope you find some peace, big hugs to you.
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