It is fast approaching a year that my baby boy has been gone. The pain still as fresh as the day I saw him on ultrasound, and his little heart was no longer beating. I have no clue what to do with this pain. Everyday it is waiting for me when I wake up. I face my day knowing he isn't with me, and never will be. My grief only seen when I am alone. The pain that lurks just beneath...waiting to jump into my day. The pain that only a parent who has lost a child can know. Suffering in silence.
They didn't even have to tell me he was gone...I knew. By what I could see on the ultrasound I knew. I remember thinking "please don't drive me insane like this" while waiting an hour for a nurse to get me into ultrasound. She couldn't find the heartbeat and blamed the dopplar. She left me in that room for an hour...alone. I knew then he was gone. I still remember being in there choking back tears, knowing my son was dead, not wanting to believe it. I still don't want to believe it.
Daily things come to mind. Guilt I can never seem to shake. I still can't figure out what I did wrong. I know most likely I did nothing, but still it is hard to shake the thought that we are supposed to keep our children safe, and I could not even keep this one safe while he was a part of me.
Many times I don't want to go on. I am haunted by the face of my little boy. I ache to hold him, love him, see him open his eyes just one time. These past months have been so surreal. I would do anything to get my baby back, and I know there isn't a thing I can do to have this...nor can anyone.
If I never hear "Well you have three healthy children, and you should be glad" ever again it will still be too soon. That really hurts. Yes I have three healthy kids...why not the fourth? Some days I don't even want to go on. The thought of moving on without my boy is too much sometimes.