Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The new me
When I think back to the day that I lost my son, one thing that I remember thinking was "I will not let this change who I am. I will not let this define me." I could tell you that I have kept my word but I would be lying. Losing my son was the most terrible thing that I have ever had to go through. It was a nightmare that I would not wish on my worst enemy. It did change me and maybe it does define me to some people, but I am thankful that it happened to me. I am thankful because I survived. I survived and it taught me that I can survive ANYTHING. I can do anything that I put my mind to because I put one foot in front of the other in the days after my son died and I lived. I breathed... I persevered.
Here I am almost 3 years out. I still think of my son every single day. I still miss him. I still wonder what he would've been like, what colour eyes he would've had and what his personality would have been like. When we took our kids to Disney World last month I wondered how he would've reacted to everything we saw and did.
I cannot sit here and tell you that I was sad while thinking those thoughts. Every one was bittersweet because I was there enjoying it all with my other two kids. My beautiful daughter and my sweet rainbow, who might not be here with us if Zach had lived. I miss my first son but I appreciate that this is the path that I was meant to take and that every event was a necessary part of my journey to where I am today. I love my life today and I am grateful for the lessons that I have learned along the way. I am grateful for my son who I will never get to raise.
Losing my son taught me that I am stronger than anyone could ever give me credit for. I am a warrior.
All of this brings me to a new topic. I need to give myself a little pat on the back here.
This weekend I ran my very first 5K race. For the first kilometer I followed a girl who was wearing a t-shirt that said "The biggest battle is with our own mind" and while I ran I thought about it. I thought about that vow to myself and how far it has taken me. I refused to let my son's death define me but it has. My son's death has shaped the person that I am today because every time I come up against something that I don't think I can accomplish I say to myself "Look at what you have survived! You can do anything that you put your mind to." So far I've done some amazing things. In the last 17 months I have lost over 80 pounds! Most of that was done without a gym membership while working full time and raising two kids. This weekend I ran my first 5K. I remember in high school struggling to get a passing grade on the 12 minute run and now I can run 5K in 32:05 minutes. I refuse to let my son's death be an excuse. He is my motivator in everything I do. He propels me to reach my goals, and often sends me soaring past them.
When I picture a mother who has lost her child I often think of Thomas J.'s mother in the movie My Girl. A sad shell of a woman wandering aimlessly with red puffy eyes, not knowing what to do with herself now that the reason for her existence has been ripped away. I knew on that day that if I allowed myself, I could become that woman. I also knew that I couldn't allow that to happen. When people think of me, they may think "Poor her, she lost a baby." but I would rather they think "Look at her, she's amazing... and can you imagine, she lost a baby?" I think that is who my son would want me to be. My son gives me strength.
Monday, April 25, 2011
For my friend
I recently received news that a friend of mine lost her baby, a little girl, at 39 weeks. I don't have the details but I can only imagine the pain that she's feeling. I haven't stopped thinking about her since receiving the news and I just keep replaying the thoughts that I had when I lost Zach. I thought I would write some of those thoughts out and maybe try and work through those thoughts in writing so that maybe someday these musing might help someone whose heart is bleeding, as hers is now.
I remember wondering how life could go on, how the sun could shine, how people could go about their day when my baby was dead. At the time I thought I was the only one feeling that pain, living it, barely breathing because the pain was too much to bear. Now I realize that whether or not I knew it at the time, someone was thinking of me, and my son, just as I am thinking of my friend now.
I asked a lot of questions, what if's, why's and especially why me? I felt alone and I felt like I had gotten the shaft in the lottery of life. Why did my baby have to die while everyone else I knew got to leave the hospital with a healthy baby? I have learned that although I may not know the reason why my son died, I just have to accept it. I have to go on living. My son would not want his Mommy to be sad so I have to move forward for him. I don't know why it happened to me, I don't know why it had to happen to you, or to anyone else for that matter. To be honest I have often thought to myself "chances are this will never happen to anyone else who I know personally"... but I was wrong...
You will never look at statistics the same waya again. You will begin to see a 1 in 100 chance as a HUGE risk. You have been on the wrong side of those statistics and you'll be terrified to have it happen again. You will hold on to your loved ones tighter... or you might pull away. I think I did a little bit of both. I was so afraid to love someone because it hurt so much to lose them.
The day that Zach was born I made a decision. I made the decision to go on living. I knew that it was going to be hard but I knew that I had to get out of bed each day, I had to move forward no matter how much it hurt to breathe. SOme days I couldn't do it and I let myself have those days. I remember feeling angry. I was angry at everyone else who had a baby that summer, especially those who had boys, I even hated those people. Sometimes I still do.
It's been about 21 1/2 months since I held and kissed and loved my little boy... and some days it still hurts that he's not here with me. Sometimes I relive that day, I relive the moment the doctor told me that he was gone, I hear her say "You'll have to go to the hospital to confirm it but the outcome won't be any different". I remember the ultrasound when she was looking for his heart beat. I remember the image of him on the screen, floating, lifeless... These images and memories pop into my head sometimes, mostly when I'm driving. They haunt me when I try to fall asleep at night. But they don't hurt nearly as much as they used to.
I celebrate my son, I love my son, I include my son. I celebrate his brithday, we have cake and send him messages in Heaven. We talk about him and tell our children about him. We wonder what he would've been like, we love him. We compare our other children to him... Noah looks like him sometimes when he sleeps... He had the same feet as our other two children and their father. He was beautiful.
People are ignorant and forgetful at times. People will say stupid things, they will forget your child and it will hurt. To this day I still have bad days. They have become few and far between but certain things will trigger the heartache. Usually seeing a little boy (or hearing about a little boy) who would've been the same age as Zach. People that should remember your child will act completely oblivious at times and others will surprise you with their kindness. People cannot possibly complrehend the pain that you are feeling or the love that you have for your baby unless they themselves have experienced such a loss.
I remember that early on I realized that I was not really mourning the loss of a person, but rather the loss of a dream. The dreams I had for my son, the memories I had planned to make with him the relationships I had envisioned for him with his sister and grand-parents and father... When he died I didn't know if I would ever get to have a son. I mourned the loss of an idea... but it was so much more than that.
Some days the pain will knowck the wind right out of you. Some days it will come out of nowhere and some days you might feel almost normal.
I'm sure there are so many more thoughts and feelings that I have had along the way and I'm sure that as I walk through this journey with her (if she'll let me walk with her) I will come across so many others along the way... I hope I can help her to feel less alone, less isolated. I hope that she will know that someone is thinking of her, even in her darkest hour and wishing her pain away.
I remember wondering how life could go on, how the sun could shine, how people could go about their day when my baby was dead. At the time I thought I was the only one feeling that pain, living it, barely breathing because the pain was too much to bear. Now I realize that whether or not I knew it at the time, someone was thinking of me, and my son, just as I am thinking of my friend now.
I asked a lot of questions, what if's, why's and especially why me? I felt alone and I felt like I had gotten the shaft in the lottery of life. Why did my baby have to die while everyone else I knew got to leave the hospital with a healthy baby? I have learned that although I may not know the reason why my son died, I just have to accept it. I have to go on living. My son would not want his Mommy to be sad so I have to move forward for him. I don't know why it happened to me, I don't know why it had to happen to you, or to anyone else for that matter. To be honest I have often thought to myself "chances are this will never happen to anyone else who I know personally"... but I was wrong...
You will never look at statistics the same waya again. You will begin to see a 1 in 100 chance as a HUGE risk. You have been on the wrong side of those statistics and you'll be terrified to have it happen again. You will hold on to your loved ones tighter... or you might pull away. I think I did a little bit of both. I was so afraid to love someone because it hurt so much to lose them.
The day that Zach was born I made a decision. I made the decision to go on living. I knew that it was going to be hard but I knew that I had to get out of bed each day, I had to move forward no matter how much it hurt to breathe. SOme days I couldn't do it and I let myself have those days. I remember feeling angry. I was angry at everyone else who had a baby that summer, especially those who had boys, I even hated those people. Sometimes I still do.
It's been about 21 1/2 months since I held and kissed and loved my little boy... and some days it still hurts that he's not here with me. Sometimes I relive that day, I relive the moment the doctor told me that he was gone, I hear her say "You'll have to go to the hospital to confirm it but the outcome won't be any different". I remember the ultrasound when she was looking for his heart beat. I remember the image of him on the screen, floating, lifeless... These images and memories pop into my head sometimes, mostly when I'm driving. They haunt me when I try to fall asleep at night. But they don't hurt nearly as much as they used to.
I celebrate my son, I love my son, I include my son. I celebrate his brithday, we have cake and send him messages in Heaven. We talk about him and tell our children about him. We wonder what he would've been like, we love him. We compare our other children to him... Noah looks like him sometimes when he sleeps... He had the same feet as our other two children and their father. He was beautiful.
People are ignorant and forgetful at times. People will say stupid things, they will forget your child and it will hurt. To this day I still have bad days. They have become few and far between but certain things will trigger the heartache. Usually seeing a little boy (or hearing about a little boy) who would've been the same age as Zach. People that should remember your child will act completely oblivious at times and others will surprise you with their kindness. People cannot possibly complrehend the pain that you are feeling or the love that you have for your baby unless they themselves have experienced such a loss.
I remember that early on I realized that I was not really mourning the loss of a person, but rather the loss of a dream. The dreams I had for my son, the memories I had planned to make with him the relationships I had envisioned for him with his sister and grand-parents and father... When he died I didn't know if I would ever get to have a son. I mourned the loss of an idea... but it was so much more than that.
Some days the pain will knowck the wind right out of you. Some days it will come out of nowhere and some days you might feel almost normal.
I'm sure there are so many more thoughts and feelings that I have had along the way and I'm sure that as I walk through this journey with her (if she'll let me walk with her) I will come across so many others along the way... I hope I can help her to feel less alone, less isolated. I hope that she will know that someone is thinking of her, even in her darkest hour and wishing her pain away.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Update
I abandoned this blog during my pregnancy because I think I just wanted to be happy... It was a tough 9 months. Not because there were any complications or anything, just because I had a hard time convinvcing myself that at the end of it all I would have a living breathing baby. Thankfully that Little Bug moved a lot right up until delivery. I could feel that little one kicking up a storm while moving down the birth canal during my induction.
At 4:13pm on July 14th, 2010 Noah Ashton made his way into the world. At first he didn't make a sound, he seemed like he was just shocked but then he started to wail and I took a deep breath for the first time since finding out I was expecting him. he weighed 7lbs 9oz and was 19 3/4 inches long (same length as DD), despite being 3 weeks early.
The next few weeks were a bit of a whirlwind. Noah was released on time 2 days later but the following day we noticed that he had a yellowish tinge to his skin. We took him back to the hospital to be tested for jaundice. It came back positive so he spent 24 hours in luminotherapy so I could only hold him to feed him. That was tough! Then we got to take him home but had to take him back the following day for a control test. His levels were rising again so he had to stay 24 hours again. This happened three times when finally a nurse noticed that his breathing seemed laboured and his skin was turning greyish. The pedicatrician ordered a whole bunch of tests and it was found that his heart was enlarged and he had very low oxygen saturation.
That day, at 12 days old, Noah was transferred to the ICU of a local children's hospital. He was diagnosed with Coarctation of the Aorta, basically a narrowing of the aorta. You see, babies have a little flap in their hearts which is called a truncus, which helps blood flow while in the womb. It closes shortly after birth.When Noah's flap closed it caused pressure to build up in his little heart because with the narrowing in his aorta, there was nowhere for the blood to go. is heart was working overtime so it became enlarged (since the heart is a muscle). They gave him some medication to reopen the truncus in order to relieve some of the pressure and he stabilized within a couple of hours. The following day we met with a pediatric cardiac surgeon and discussed what would happen with Noah. We were told that he needed surgery to repair the coarctation... The scariest news I could possibly imagine. I've never prayed so hard in all my life.
When Noah was 14 days old he underwent surgery to repair his coarctation. He came out of it in just under 4 hours (the LONGEST 4 hours of my life) and was released from the hospital 4 days later. Here is a picture of him 2 days post-op. Already feeling better :)
He goes in to see his cardiologist every 6 weeks or so and in October he was sleeping a little more than usual but I didn't really think anything of it since he was about to hit 3 months and I figured he was just going through a little growth spurt. So I took him in for a regular check-up with the cardiologist and sure enough the coarctation had returned (recoarctation). This time, though, he would have a catheter dilatation, which is a fairly straightforward procedure in which they put a catheter in his groin which threads up to his aorta and they inflate a balloon to reopen the narrowed passage. That was a Thursday, he had the procedure done the following Monday and got to go home on Tuesday.
Since then he's been doing great. He's a happy, energetic 8 month old and you would never know that he had been through so much in his little life.
At 4:13pm on July 14th, 2010 Noah Ashton made his way into the world. At first he didn't make a sound, he seemed like he was just shocked but then he started to wail and I took a deep breath for the first time since finding out I was expecting him. he weighed 7lbs 9oz and was 19 3/4 inches long (same length as DD), despite being 3 weeks early.
The next few weeks were a bit of a whirlwind. Noah was released on time 2 days later but the following day we noticed that he had a yellowish tinge to his skin. We took him back to the hospital to be tested for jaundice. It came back positive so he spent 24 hours in luminotherapy so I could only hold him to feed him. That was tough! Then we got to take him home but had to take him back the following day for a control test. His levels were rising again so he had to stay 24 hours again. This happened three times when finally a nurse noticed that his breathing seemed laboured and his skin was turning greyish. The pedicatrician ordered a whole bunch of tests and it was found that his heart was enlarged and he had very low oxygen saturation.
That day, at 12 days old, Noah was transferred to the ICU of a local children's hospital. He was diagnosed with Coarctation of the Aorta, basically a narrowing of the aorta. You see, babies have a little flap in their hearts which is called a truncus, which helps blood flow while in the womb. It closes shortly after birth.When Noah's flap closed it caused pressure to build up in his little heart because with the narrowing in his aorta, there was nowhere for the blood to go. is heart was working overtime so it became enlarged (since the heart is a muscle). They gave him some medication to reopen the truncus in order to relieve some of the pressure and he stabilized within a couple of hours. The following day we met with a pediatric cardiac surgeon and discussed what would happen with Noah. We were told that he needed surgery to repair the coarctation... The scariest news I could possibly imagine. I've never prayed so hard in all my life.
When Noah was 14 days old he underwent surgery to repair his coarctation. He came out of it in just under 4 hours (the LONGEST 4 hours of my life) and was released from the hospital 4 days later. Here is a picture of him 2 days post-op. Already feeling better :)
He goes in to see his cardiologist every 6 weeks or so and in October he was sleeping a little more than usual but I didn't really think anything of it since he was about to hit 3 months and I figured he was just going through a little growth spurt. So I took him in for a regular check-up with the cardiologist and sure enough the coarctation had returned (recoarctation). This time, though, he would have a catheter dilatation, which is a fairly straightforward procedure in which they put a catheter in his groin which threads up to his aorta and they inflate a balloon to reopen the narrowed passage. That was a Thursday, he had the procedure done the following Monday and got to go home on Tuesday.
Since then he's been doing great. He's a happy, energetic 8 month old and you would never know that he had been through so much in his little life.
Friday, March 5, 2010
How???
How does anyone get through this? How does anyone go for nine months not knowing with each passing day whether their baby is going to be born alive???
I don't know how much more anxiety I can take. I can't sleep, I have no appetite, I can't concentrate. I just worry 24/7... and then I feel a kick and am reassured for that moment... but it never lasts.
I haven't seen my baby in 7 weeks. The last time I saw my baby it was essentially a blob with arms... For 3 weeks I felt my baby move all the time, day after day I was reassured by punches and kicks and nudges and then nothing 3 days... then reasssurance but never as strong as it had been... now nothing again... we had some flutters yesterday but was it the baby or gas... how can I really be sure?
I just sit here and cry my eyes out... I just want to KNOW that everything is going to be okay. I want to KNOW that my baby is not going to die. I want to know that my daughter is not going to have to cry herself to sleep for months again because she misses her baby brother or sister...
I want to know that my body is not going to fail me again.
I want to have faith that everything is going to be just fine and that all of this is worth it because at the end of it all I'll be bringing home a beautiful healthy baby.
One more week until my next appointment.
One more week until I know for sure whether my baby is alive.
11 more days until the anatomy scan.
11 more days until I know whether my baby is healthy.
11 more days until I can see my baby on that screen.
If we make it that far.
I never had these fears with my son. I had confidence. I had never lost something that meant so much to me. Now all I have is fear. Fear of losing a baby all over again. Fear of that shelf in the corner having two tiny little urns on it...
I try to be calm, I try to hold it together and some days I succeed. Others, like today, I fail miserably... and while I should be getting ready for work I sit here with tears streaming down my face trying to will my baby to give me a sign that he or she is still alive in there.
I always have a hard time around the 8th of the month... mostly leading up to it. Being pregnant has only intensified those emotions in me. I'm a wreck usually from the 5th until the 7th and generally the 8th comes and goes without incident. It's not like it's different that any other day... I mean, aside from the fact that my son was born sleeping 8 months ago on the 8th of July... It's not like I think of him more or miss him more I cry for him more... How could I? I do those things every day of my life.
The 8th of this month is a little different. The 8th of this month marks the halfway point in this pregnancy. On the 8th I will be starting the second half of this pregnancy. I will be 18 weeks and 5 days of a 37 week pregnancy. It will be the second leg of this LONG journey and hopefully it will all be worth it in the end.
I don't know how much more anxiety I can take. I can't sleep, I have no appetite, I can't concentrate. I just worry 24/7... and then I feel a kick and am reassured for that moment... but it never lasts.
I haven't seen my baby in 7 weeks. The last time I saw my baby it was essentially a blob with arms... For 3 weeks I felt my baby move all the time, day after day I was reassured by punches and kicks and nudges and then nothing 3 days... then reasssurance but never as strong as it had been... now nothing again... we had some flutters yesterday but was it the baby or gas... how can I really be sure?
I just sit here and cry my eyes out... I just want to KNOW that everything is going to be okay. I want to KNOW that my baby is not going to die. I want to know that my daughter is not going to have to cry herself to sleep for months again because she misses her baby brother or sister...
I want to know that my body is not going to fail me again.
I want to have faith that everything is going to be just fine and that all of this is worth it because at the end of it all I'll be bringing home a beautiful healthy baby.
One more week until my next appointment.
One more week until I know for sure whether my baby is alive.
11 more days until the anatomy scan.
11 more days until I know whether my baby is healthy.
11 more days until I can see my baby on that screen.
If we make it that far.
I never had these fears with my son. I had confidence. I had never lost something that meant so much to me. Now all I have is fear. Fear of losing a baby all over again. Fear of that shelf in the corner having two tiny little urns on it...
I try to be calm, I try to hold it together and some days I succeed. Others, like today, I fail miserably... and while I should be getting ready for work I sit here with tears streaming down my face trying to will my baby to give me a sign that he or she is still alive in there.
I always have a hard time around the 8th of the month... mostly leading up to it. Being pregnant has only intensified those emotions in me. I'm a wreck usually from the 5th until the 7th and generally the 8th comes and goes without incident. It's not like it's different that any other day... I mean, aside from the fact that my son was born sleeping 8 months ago on the 8th of July... It's not like I think of him more or miss him more I cry for him more... How could I? I do those things every day of my life.
The 8th of this month is a little different. The 8th of this month marks the halfway point in this pregnancy. On the 8th I will be starting the second half of this pregnancy. I will be 18 weeks and 5 days of a 37 week pregnancy. It will be the second leg of this LONG journey and hopefully it will all be worth it in the end.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Thank you
Mabel's Labels is having a contest in which you can win a trip to BlogHer '10 and a one year gig blogging for them. How could I pass up that opportunity? For more information on the contest go to www.blogcontest.mabel.ca. Here's the topic:
"Electrical storms are going to wipe out the Internet (perhaps forever). You have one day left to write about your passions: what do you want to say to the blogosphere in 300 words or less?"
I'd like to start by saying that over the last few months I've had the opportunity to "meet" so many wonderful people and to share my story and to feel like I wasn't alone through the darkest of days. The support system that I have built on the Internet through Message Boards, Twitter, Facebook and blogs have been my lifeline and have saved my sanity.
As much as the Internet is convenient and easy, we need to make that extra effort to keep in touch with all of the people who have touched our lives, and who have brought sunshine to our rainy days. We may not have the Internet but we still have Word! Write a letter, buy a stamp, send it off and let those people know how much they mean to you! You could even invest in some Return Address Labels from Mabel's Labels to ensure that you'll get a letter in return!
Life is too short and losing touch with those who have been your rock is not worth it! Pick up a phone, come out from behind this curtain of anonymity and show the world who you really are and let your friends know who they are too!
Leave your contact info in the comments section and I’ll be sure to keep in touch. Take care Internet Family and thank you for always being there!
"Electrical storms are going to wipe out the Internet (perhaps forever). You have one day left to write about your passions: what do you want to say to the blogosphere in 300 words or less?"
I'd like to start by saying that over the last few months I've had the opportunity to "meet" so many wonderful people and to share my story and to feel like I wasn't alone through the darkest of days. The support system that I have built on the Internet through Message Boards, Twitter, Facebook and blogs have been my lifeline and have saved my sanity.
As much as the Internet is convenient and easy, we need to make that extra effort to keep in touch with all of the people who have touched our lives, and who have brought sunshine to our rainy days. We may not have the Internet but we still have Word! Write a letter, buy a stamp, send it off and let those people know how much they mean to you! You could even invest in some Return Address Labels from Mabel's Labels to ensure that you'll get a letter in return!
Life is too short and losing touch with those who have been your rock is not worth it! Pick up a phone, come out from behind this curtain of anonymity and show the world who you really are and let your friends know who they are too!
Leave your contact info in the comments section and I’ll be sure to keep in touch. Take care Internet Family and thank you for always being there!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Baby of the Year
This time of the year is tough... this time of year is when every talk show and local newspaper decides to run their "Baby of the Year" contest bull-shit. It's a lovely reminder of just how many babies made it in to this world alive while mine is in an urn on a shelf in my TV room... It just doesn't seem fair. I used to love that section of the paper when I was younger... I would read every name and look at every little baby face and smile. Now I want to set the newspaper on fire and shove it up the editor's ass for being so insensitive without even knowing he's being insensitive. Same for Regis and Kelly. I'm sick and tired of seeing all your stupid Tweets about your beautiful baby contest! Maybe I should send you a picture of my stillborn son so you can see what a beautiful baby really looks like!!! It's all just a frustrating reminder of what my family lives without every single day of our lives. If only the world realized that these little things that bring so much joy to most people (mostly the winners, the losers never feel that great) brings so much pain to Mommies like me who have to live without their beautiful babies... Not for anything they did wrong, just for having drawn the short straw in the game of life...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Sacrifice
I sometimes revert to old feelings when faced with babies. Not all babies... just some babies... or rather when I am faced with numerous babies. For example, in a shopping mall, when every stroller is a reminder of what I am living without.
Sometimes I can't help but believe that my son was taken so that those babies could live, because if their baby had been stillborn then maybe mine would've been spared. I know logically that that is probably not the case. I have been through, in my mind, several times why mine was taken and not other people's. I probably know of at least a dozen women who have given birth to healthy babies since mine was stillborn. Each time I thought to myself "why mine and not hers?". Each time I was able to say "well, she had a rough time when..." so she's probably been through enough. Maybe their struggles will take place in the future and I will think back and say "Imagine having to endure a stillbirth AND that?"... Maybe I can bring the taboo issue of stillbirth to the forefront while she will keep quiet. Maybe I conceive easily while she struggles. I don't know the reason I was chosen. I probably won't ever know why, but I have accepted it. It's just that once in awhile I have to wonder. I look at all those strollers and I can't help but think about what should have been.
My life hasn't been all roses but I am thankful for what I have. I believe that every struggle that I have faced throughout my life has helped to build my character, has made me who I am today. I may at times be bitter and thin-skinned but I also believe that I am entitled to those feelings every so often.
I try with all my heart to take a positive approach to life. I try to see the silver lining in every situation, I try not to use my loss as an excuse, I try to believe that the future will bring me happiness.
I used to think that family pictures would never be complete and family gatherings would always be missing somebody but I know now that that couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is that, though my son may not be here with us on Earth, he is always in our hearts. He is in every family picture and present at every family gathering. I see him in my reflection in the mirror and in my daughter's eyes. He is with us when we play outside, when we're eating dinner and when I'm driving to work. He is always with us and he will always be.
I may sometimes waver from my belief that everything happens for a reason but I always come back to it at the end of the day. I have to believe that I was chosen because I will persevere. I will move forward and make the most out of these cards that I've been dealt. It's what my beautiful Zachary would want me to do.
Sometimes I can't help but believe that my son was taken so that those babies could live, because if their baby had been stillborn then maybe mine would've been spared. I know logically that that is probably not the case. I have been through, in my mind, several times why mine was taken and not other people's. I probably know of at least a dozen women who have given birth to healthy babies since mine was stillborn. Each time I thought to myself "why mine and not hers?". Each time I was able to say "well, she had a rough time when..." so she's probably been through enough. Maybe their struggles will take place in the future and I will think back and say "Imagine having to endure a stillbirth AND that?"... Maybe I can bring the taboo issue of stillbirth to the forefront while she will keep quiet. Maybe I conceive easily while she struggles. I don't know the reason I was chosen. I probably won't ever know why, but I have accepted it. It's just that once in awhile I have to wonder. I look at all those strollers and I can't help but think about what should have been.
My life hasn't been all roses but I am thankful for what I have. I believe that every struggle that I have faced throughout my life has helped to build my character, has made me who I am today. I may at times be bitter and thin-skinned but I also believe that I am entitled to those feelings every so often.
I try with all my heart to take a positive approach to life. I try to see the silver lining in every situation, I try not to use my loss as an excuse, I try to believe that the future will bring me happiness.
I used to think that family pictures would never be complete and family gatherings would always be missing somebody but I know now that that couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is that, though my son may not be here with us on Earth, he is always in our hearts. He is in every family picture and present at every family gathering. I see him in my reflection in the mirror and in my daughter's eyes. He is with us when we play outside, when we're eating dinner and when I'm driving to work. He is always with us and he will always be.
I may sometimes waver from my belief that everything happens for a reason but I always come back to it at the end of the day. I have to believe that I was chosen because I will persevere. I will move forward and make the most out of these cards that I've been dealt. It's what my beautiful Zachary would want me to do.
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