Sunday, June 15, 2008

So, it is Father's Day today. It is our first Father's Day with a living child.

In 06, I had just given birth to our son. In 07, I was pregnant with our daughter.

But, in 2006, I had a stack of Father's Day cards in the drawer. Being that I was due so close, I had stocked up on cards for grandpas, and great grandpas and daddy in advance. I didn't know what life would a 1 week old would be like, so on the day before my son was born, I bought 6 cards.

The next morning, I learned he was gone. What is sad, is while I was happily picking out Father's Day cards, my son was dead inside of me. And I had NO IDEA.

Looking back, I know he never moved that day, a Tuesday. I now figure he died sometime Monday night since I know I felt him that Monday. So Tuesday, I went to work, I picked out Father's day cards, I took a walk with my husband. I played with my dog. I emailed my friends. I talked to my mom.

The whole time, my son was dead inside of me. And I didn't even notice.

I cannot tell you how much the thought of this guts me. I was happily living my little life. And I didn't even know the worst thing to ever happen to me, my son's death, had already occured. Inside of me, no less. This haunts me every single day. There are a lot of other things that haunt me.

Like the image of him being laid on my chest right after he was born with his closed eyes and his daddy's nose. Looking so much like a sleeping baby, but so much like a dead baby as well.

Then when we finally decided to have the nurse take away his little body. Handing him to her and watching her walk away with him, wrapped up in a hospital blanket with his "Thank Heavens for Little Boy" onesie on.

These two images haunt my dreams, my waking moments, and every breath I take.

We wanted to take him home. I wanted to give his dad and grandpa those silly, cutesie Father's Day cards I picked out. But he died. And I left with haunting images of our short, much too short, time together and Father's day cards sitting in a box upstairs mixed in with all the other special things we had planned for his life.

I am sorry, to my dear dear husband. I am sorry I couldn't get him here safely. I am sorry you don't have both of your children to hug today.

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