Three Months In Heaven Today (& Good News)...

I got the call last night that they had found my beautiful baby girl's ashes. The short version of a long, confusing and sorted story that I still don't understand completely is that her urn, remains and all were accidentally packed and placed upstairs in the attic storage area. I am picking her up at the park today from the 'now retiring' funeral director. This isn't finished, but I can now put this blog back on track...

*************************TODAY*************************************************

This very moment 3 months ago, I was laying in the hospital bed feeling like my world had just come to an end. In many ways it did. I was struggling with whether or not to call 'Chris' and give him my room number. He wasn't going to be at the delivery due to personal reasons that arose the night before. He could have come after work that day, but I wanted him there for all or nothing and I didn't know if our baby girl would hold out until he got there. So he was not there. I so badly wanted to call him. I wanted him there, regardless. But somewhere between my pain and my pride I just didn't. I delivered my angel alone. It was THE most traumatic event in my life. I have held dead children in my arms before at car accidents in the town I used to live in, attended their funeral afterwards, and that traumatized me. I could 'see' those babies (7 yrs, 5yrs and 18mths with one 19 mths old survivor), when I was awake, when I slept... I saw them everywhere. I still visit their grave from time to time. But this was different. This was MY baby. MY child. MY flesh, MY blood, MY heart & soul. She was MY little person, mine and Chris'. She was perfect. I don't know what I expected from a stillborn baby, but she was not it. She looked simply like a quiet newborn. But she wasn't quiet, she was silent and still.

Today I mourn the things that I never had and never will....
... I never saw her smile
... I never heard her coo or giggle
... I never changed her wet diaper
... I never had my finger/hand grasped by her little hand
...... and I never will.

This event has changed me. I lost my beautiful baby girl that day. Her father and I had already decided long into the pregnancy that we would focus on being the best friends and best parents that we could be. That was more important than being a couple, being 'us'. I was ok with that. But even the friendship is gone now. So I lost my best friend too. Everything in my life has changed so drastically and traumatically in three months. I can never put into words the feeling of leaving that hospital without my daughter. I chose to remain there until I 'knew' she had left to go to the funeral home. I watched the funeral director take her down the hall in her bassinet, he was talking to her. People did not realize that she was not 'just sleeping'.

People do not know what to say to me now. If you have not been down this road, to have a newborn die, you will never understand this kind of loss regardless of how hard you may try to be sympathetic and understanding. And that's ok. Those of us walking down this road pray that you never have to join us on our journey. Sadly even Chris does not know what to say to me now. What I have learned and am still learning is this.... men and women mourn differently. Very differently. I do not expect that anyone can 'fix' this for me, but if you find yourself talking to a parent that has lost a child know that they don't want you to 'understand' or fix this. They simply want you to 'be there'. Let them talk, cry, laugh and sit quietly and you, just be there for them. Sometimes it is not about what you say, but simply your presence there beside someone, whether physically or in spirit, that gets them through a moment that is killing them inside. And with the loss of a baby, there are many of those moments. And I am still dying inside.

Chris...
If you are following this as I hope that you are since this is mainly intended to help you to understand where I have been in this.... I am sorry. I am sorry for the pain, I am sorry that I failed our baby girl and I am sorry that I failed you and did not call you. You should have gotten to meet your daughter. Maybe someday you can forgive me, but I do understand that day is not today.