Halfy Birthday! You'd be 6 months old today

The waxing and waning of grief has rolled over me this month.  A few days ago, I was constantly on the verge of tears.  Today, I'm back to feeling like "me".  I am very used to the fact that you're gone and aren't coming back.  I'm not angry about it nor do I question why, but there are days that I simply miss you.  You'd be 6 months old right now.  I vividly remember when your sister turned 6 months old.  She had a "half" cake for her halfy birthday.   You had more hair at 28w gestation than she did at 6 months (even 15 months) old.  She was a cue-ball!

Because you're not here to celebrate, I'll bake a cake in your honor.   After your sister wakes up from her nap, we're going to buy a balloon and release it for you.  I'm looking forward to it because it will be the first time I've done something like this.   I'm sure it will be the first of many.

Mothers' Day is this coming Sunday.  It's strange to have so much tied in a day, but Mothers' Day is going to be very hard for me this year.   Oh course it's difficult to celebrate Mothers' day without one of your children, but there is much more tied to this day when it comes to you.  I enjoy coming up with names for our babies during the gestational period.  Your sister was "The Rock", which was short for Shamrock since she was due in mid March.  Daddy liked it because he enjoys wrestling.  Beanie was called that because that's what your daddy called him when we first saw his heartbeat.  He looked like a little bean on the ultrasound monitor.  Nole actually began as Noel.  Noel was conceived on Christmas, and being due in September, football season, I felt like Nole might be a better nickname.  I used both interchangeably.  Then it was your turn.  You were conceived on Mother's Day, so you were our Mother's Day Baby.  From then on, known as MDB.  I think about you every day, but I think Mother's Day will be exceptionally hard without my MDB with me.

At your 4 month birthday, I had decided to relive the early memories of you and will continue with that.  The only memory I shared so far was when we first saw you and what a relief that was.  2 weeks later, it was time for our 8 week appointment.  Both of our losses happened in the 7th week so we were a little nervous.  I can't explain why, but I just knew everything was going to be okay though.  Daddy kept your sister in the hallway while I laid on the table waiting for the ultrasound to begin, just in case.  He would come in once he was told everything was okay.  We didn't want your sister to see us sad at that moment if you were not okay.  Not even 10 seconds later, the nurse and I both called for Daddy and your sister to come in.  We could see your heartbeat flicker and told your sister what she was looking at, but didn't tell her she was going to be a big sister yet.  Here you are at 8 weeks gestation.  Once again, you measured 4 days ahead.  Always an over-achiever!

   

We love you, Case.  Happy halfy-birthday, sweet boy. 

Five Month Birthday

Life after losing Case has been very difficult but we move forward every day.  Always moving forward.  Never moving on.  It's a very strange place to be, but it's one we will be accustomed to at some point.  You never "move on" after loss.  You simply continue moving forward.

Grief comes and goes.  This month, it came full force for me.  So many daily tasks are stinging reminders of what we lost, of what we left behind.  I realize that as we walk places as a family, people see a happy group of the 3 of us and think our family is ideal and just the way we wanted it.  No one can look at us and see the missing baby that would be 5 months old today.  Nobody can see the gaping hole in my heart where the love of watching him grow up should be.  

We went on a walk the other day and brought the stroller in case our 3-year-old's legs got tired, which meant I was pushing an empty stroller for a while.  And so I walked, thinking the whole time about how this stroller should be filled with a sweet little boy.   Then my mind wandered to what life would have been like.  How would we be adjusting to life with a preemie at home?  Would we have been able to take walks with him?  Would he be healthy now or would we need to go to the doctor all the time?  Would he be breastfed or would I still be pumping?  Would he still look so much like his sister?  So many things I'll never know the answers to.

We had an amazing opportunity this month to go to Hawaii thanks to the generous gifts from some wonderful friends of ours.  Seth had a conference there which we knew about months ago.  I wanted to go (who wouldn't?) but once I was pregnant with Case, we knew it wouldn't be a possibility.  He was due Feb. 2 so he would have been about 6 weeks old.  I wouldn't have been comfortable taking him on a plane (for 17 hours of travel) at that young age, and I certainly wouldn't have felt right leaving him.  Simply going on this trip was a blessing and a horrible reminder.  A blessing because it's always been a dream of mine to go to Hawaii.  A horrible reminder because I should have been home, spending long days and sleepless nights nursing a newborn and entertaining a toddler.  

I had hoped the trip would be a perfect way to "forget" about life's struggles.  Turns out, it was the perfect way to "think" without a toddler, crafts, taxes, bills, cooking, cleaning, etc. getting in the way.  The amount of babies and toddlers there shocked me.  Instead of getting away, I was constantly reminded.  To be honest, I was okay with that.  It wasn't a sad trip by any means, but I thought about Case and hoped for the future the entire time we were there.  I look at families in a completely different way now though.  My mind goes back and forth between hating them for having more than one child and then thinking they may have lost a baby too.  Life isn't "perfect" for anyone.  And then I wonder why this is our story, why this is our path.  

A friend of mine recently told me that she grieves the loss of the future she had planned for herself.  She's missing out on the future SHE had planned, but she's not missing out on anything GOD had planned for her.  That moved me in a way I can't put to words.  I know our journey isn't over.  I have no idea what the next step will be.  Does our future involve more biological children?  Adopting a baby?  Adopting a toddler?  Adopting siblings?  No more children?  I feel very blessed with the wonderful little girl we have and the few days with our amazing boy, yet I crave the insanity multiple children would bring to our lives.       

I think about Case every day.  I think about what color his eyes would be.  If he would sleep through the night now.  How frightened I'd be when he did sleep through the night.  If his apnea monitors would be going off and scaring the tar out of me.  If big sister would want to help with everything or if she would be battling for attention.  If Case would have looked like a normal 2-month-old now or if he'd have physical signs of being a preemie.  I think about him and miss him a little more every day.

Happy 5-month-birthday sweet boy.  I hope you're feeling the hugs I'm sending your way.              

 

Four Month Birthday

Sweet, sweet Case...

We miss you so much these days.  Everything is a reminder of you and the life that should have been.  I've spent a lot of time this month thinking back to all of the memories of you.  Most people only knew you to be "alive" for 10 days, but the journey leading to those 10 days was quite eventful.

In September of 2012, we began trying for another baby.  In October, we found out we were pregnant and were very excited.  We made plans to tell everyone about the baby on Thanksgiving.  I would have been 7 weeks pregnant.  The Friday before Thanksgiving, we went to the doctor and saw a "healthy" little bean with a strong heartbeat.  I was 6 weeks, 4 days from my calculations but the baby measured 6 weeks, 1 day.  On Wednesday night, the day before Thanksgiving, I unexpectedly began bleeding and we lost "Beanie".  

In December, I was so angry that I wasn't pregnant so we tried again and found out we were expecting another baby!  This one, I called "Nole".  Because of the heartache we had the previous time, I decided to wait until 8 weeks for the first visit.  We went in on February 4th and I should have been 7 weeks 5 days.  Nole measured 7 weeks 3 days and didn't have a heartbeat.  We were devastated.  After losing Nole, the doctors did some testing on me and told me to take x, y, and z to hopefully have a better pregnancy outcome.  We were also told to wait 3 cycles before trying again.

In May, we were ready to try again.  By the end of May, we knew we were expecting you but were very cautious.  I spent every day terrified of losing you.  Around 5 1/2 weeks, I began spotting and feared the worst.  That was a Friday so I had to wait until Monday to check on you.  As your daddy and I sat in the waiting room, I was hyperventilating, thinking I couldn't possibly go through this again.  I was shaking so badly and was so scared that the ultrasound tech had to make me take deep breaths to even be able to see you.  I so clearly remember that scene and the wonderful words I heard.  She said, "I see a baby... and I see a HEARTBEAT!"  She was so happy for us!  Then she said something about how you didn't look like 6w1d and I began to get scared again.  However, she told us you were bigger!!!  You measured 6w5d!  

I never expected to get emotional in that room.  It was the same room we found out about Nole passing.  And because Nole passed further along than you were, I didn't think hearing good news would affect me.  But it did, way more than I ever expected.  It was quite possibly the happiest moment in my life.  Your daddy held my hand and we cried; we cried tears of joy.  I believe the tech shed some tears too.  You started life ahead of the game and were always a strong little fighter.

March of has been pretty eventful for us.  Your big sister turned 3!  She had a puppy-themed party at the park, and a lot of our friends came to join in the celebration.  At the party, I felt at peace.  I felt like you were there, celebrating with us.  You were sorely missed but I could sense your presence.  I hope I will always feel you near when I'm wishing you were there.  We love you today and always.

Love, 
Your Mommy
   

Three Month Birthday

I can't believe it's been 3 months since the day you were born.  It seems like just yesterday, yet a lifetime ago.  

This week has been harder than most.  Your due date, February 2, was Sunday.  It's crazy that you should have just been born.  I don't "check on you" in the back seat of the car as much now.  I'm getting more used to the fact that you're not here; I don't think I'll ever be okay with you being gone though. 

While I was pregnant with you, I had many friends who were due within a few weeks of me.  All but one of them has given birth now.  One has a baby in the NICU because she came 6 weeks early.  Seeing their newborns and getting updates from them has made this week especially difficult.  By now, you definitely would have been home.

The strangest thing is that I feel like your death is an impossibility.  In my mind, something happened that caused us to give you up for adoption and now you're being raised by another family.  I want to find you and fight to get you back.  I wish I had that option.  I think that I feel that way because I sort of did give you to someone else to raise.  I gave you to God.  Not willingly, but you left this earth and are with him now.  I wish you were with me.  I know you'll do just fine in heaven though.  It's us on earth that are missing out.

Your sister talks about you a lot now.  She says she's sad that you passed away.  She calls you , "My baby, Case."   Everyday, I see how good of a big sister she would have been/is to you.  I hope you can feel how much she loves you.  We all love you.  

Happy 3 month birthday, little one.

Love mommy

Two month birthday

Dearest Case,

Life is a strange sense of normalcy.  Everything is the way it was, but nothing is the way it should be.  A few weeks ago, I had this strange feeling that I was forgetting something as I was walking out the door.  After stopping and looking around the house twice, I realized it was you I was forgetting.  My mind knew you should be with us as we were leaving and was "reminding me" to grab the car seat.  Something similar happened as I was driving the other day.  I looked in the back seat to see your sister and then glanced back to see you, only to remember that you weren't back there. 

The other morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table as your sister was eating her breakfast.  There was a strange sense of calmness in the house and it took me a minute to place the reason.  Life shouldn't be calm and normal right now.  Everything should be hectic.  I have no doubt that you would have been home by now.  Your daddy thought you'd be home by Christmas.  My guess was New Year's Day.  Now it's January 6th.  You would have been home by now.  I just know it.  We would be juggling life with a newborn and a toddler.  The calm moments at the table wouldn't be happening.  Our bedroom and living room would be full of baby gear.  My dresser would be a drawer short to fit your baby clothes.  I'd be changing lots of diapers, teaching your sister all about babies, figuring out your nursing schedule, learning your personality, figuring out your cries, and not getting any sleep.  But I can honestly say I would have loved every minute. 

I get this sense that you're always telling me, "Don't worry, mom.  I'm doing great!"  I'm so thankful that I can "hear" you speaking to me.  I hope the connection goes both ways and that you can hear the things I say to you too.  

A dear friend drew some pictures as a gift for us.  They will always be treasured.  

   

We love you, Case.   We always will. 

One month birthday

Dear Case, 

When your sister celebrated her monthly birthdays, I always wrote her a letter.  You're my baby too so I intend to do the same for you.  

I look back on where we were one month ago today.  I had just been moved to long term bed rest in the hospital and then my water broke.  An hour later, you entered the world crying, just as any baby should.  I remember turning to Seth right before you were born and telling him that you were going to be alright.  I said it because I hoped it would be true; not because I knew it would be.  But then you were born and you cried.  I felt so much better about your chances of survival.  As the days went on, we were told how big you were, how strong you were, how "mature" you were for a 28 week preemie.  Never did I imagine you would be gone just a few short days later.  Never did I imagine that an incredibly common bacteria would take your life.

But here we are a month after your birth.  I miss you so very much.  We all do.  Many days are very difficult emotionally.  I know you're gone.  I know you're not coming back.  But I also know that you're always going to be with me in spirit.  I know you'll always be in my heart and on my mind.

Today we received your ashes.  Some were put in to a heart locket for me to always keep.  The rest are in a small bag for us to spread or bury.  It breaks my heart that you're "home" now but in this form.  Your first car ride was not in a car seat, but rather in a small white box.  Your first trip through the front door was not cradled in my arms, but carried in a bag.  I really wish you could have come home the way most babies do.  

The hospital gave us a keepsake box.  I will always treasure the things inside of it.  They made handprints and footprints, cut some locks of your hair, and included some things you had at the hospital.  We have your hat, ID band, the card from your isolette, biliband, and a few other things that were yours.     
 
The day after you passed away, I dreamed of our final moments together.  Your spirit had already left your body but you were still in the room.  The holy spirit came to you and took you by the hand.  He told you that your heavenly father was waiting for you.  Although I wish you were in my arms, it's comforting to know that you are in his.  

Many loved ones attended your memorial service.  There was not a dry eye in the room.  I hate that so few people were able to meet you while you lived.  I really hate that your big sister never got the chance to see you in person.  I know she wishes you would have come home.  We're teaching her about your new home now; heaven.  She still says she's a big sister.  I always tell her, "Yes, you are a big sister."  She will always be a big sister because of you.  She loves you just as a big sister should.  A few days ago, she told me that she wished you were coming home because she wanted you to wear baby clothes.  I'm sure she would have loved helping me dress you.  She remembers singing to you in the hospital but won't sing the song again for me to record.  I hope she eventually will because it was a song she made up, just for you.  The only lines I remember are "I love you, baby brother." and "Goodnight, sweet dreams."  

I thank God for giving us 10 wonderful days with you.  What a blessing that you were so alert on our last day together.  I really felt like we connected more on that day than ever before.  I think about the first time I held you and the first time I kissed your sweet head.  I think about the softness of your hair and the strength of your tiny little arm.  While our last moments together often creep in to my head, I mostly think about our wonderful moments together.  Thank God for those happy moments.

Happy one month birthday, sweet boy.   

    

Day 10 - Saying goodbye

Today was the most terrifying day of Case's life.  Our day began with a phone call from the NICU saying he wasn't doing well and to come up right away.  When we got there, they still didn't know what was wrong with him but were giving him antibiotics, blood, and platelets in hopes that it would help.  They had ordered lab work and an x-ray.  The x-ray showed that his intestine was inflamed which means he had an infection. He became a little more active and they said his color was better.  

As the minutes passed, the doctor was getting more information from his lab work.  We soon found out that Case had Pseudomonas. They said it was in his trachea and lungs. It also made his blood thinner so they needed to give him plasma. They said something about making sure it wasn't in his spine and brain and hoping they caught it early enough.  They also said something about it possibly turning in to meningitis.

We stayed with Case all morning but needed to come home for lunch/shift change.  I was still scared out of my mind but at peace in a way. I knew they were doing all they could and me worrying wasn't going to change the outcome. So I prayed and prayed.  The doctor told us the first 24 hours was the most critical so we made plans for our daughter to spend the night elsewhere so we could be with Case together.  

Seth visited that afternoon and took this video of our sweet boy.  Case was alert like this all day.  It was the most we had been able to interact with him since his birth.

 

That night, Seth dropped me off then came back after taking our daughter to her friend's house.  Case's heart rate was low and he wasn't responding to their efforts to bring it up.  Seth came about 10 minutes later and we sat hand in hand, watching the 6 medical professionals work on our son.  He had internal bleeding and there was nothing they could do to stop it.  A few minutes later, we were allowed to hold Case for his last moments.  Many tears were shed as we said goodbye to our little fighter.  

We are mourning the loss of our sweet boy.  We appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers.