"You get what you pay for, but I just had no intention of living this way." -Counting Crows

Why We're Here...

My husband David and I delivered a stillborn Baby Boy that we loved, and wanted. Our first and only son, Logan, had Down Syndrome. Our daughter's smile is a little light in the darkness. She turned one year old three days after our sweet Logan tip-toed away on January 24, 2009. After 2 1/2 years we found out we were having another baby, whom we affectionatly called Rudy. Just shy of 6 weeks we found out Rudy was Ectopic. Rudy was surgically removed on May 26, 2011 delivering another blow to our already broken hearts.

The confusion is confusing!

The confusion is confusing. I don’t know what I expect from myself. On the days I don’t cry or mope around thinking of Logan I wonder if I’m denying my heart its right to feel the extraordinary pain I must feel over loosing my son. I say must because there are days when I don’t feel anything, when I don’t think about the sorrow, when I view Logan as a fact, only a fact, and not the heavy weight of the love and loss I have…but then out of nowhere, with out a conscious thought about him I start to ache and cry. Something small like the title of a book or an innocent comment (“She loves that cat like a child!” Uh-no she doesn’t.) And out of no where (although obviously it’s somewhere) I cry. I cry even before the thought crosses my mind. I am confused why there are days where I think of him as a fact, a cold hard fact. I talk about him like a fact. I was pregnant, I had a son, he was born dead and his name was Logan…the end. We all know that is not the end. Then I cried, forever. My heart broke a million times a day. But I find myself looking at pictures of myself pregnant, ultrasound pictures, my pregnancy journal and I don’t feel a thing. But I do, I must. Deep down in the recesses of the heart that I’ve come to commonly ignore; I miss my baby. I miss his kicking, I miss the anticipation and I miss the dreams I had for him. I miss my family of four. If I had only known. If I had known that my little boy would have such a short time here on this blasted planet I would have taken more pictures of my belly, regardless of how ugly I felt. I would have sat around with a heart beat monitor and memorized the sound of his little heart. I would have sung to him, I would have written down every kick, I would have talked to him and told him I much I loved him. I would have tried so much harder to appreciate being pregnant instead of moaning and groaning about every little ache and annoyance. I would have stayed awake at night to feel him roll around in my belly, instead of trying to sleep through my pregnancy to wake up one morning in May with a take home baby boy. I would have. But I didn’t. I have a lifetime of memories written down on a few pages, vague events that I didn’t pay enough attention to. But I am so confused as to why I can go days with out feeling the pain that I must have. And then BAM! I’m a sobbing mess. Crying and aching for an enigma. How can I feel so much for a little boy I barely knew? Those six short months, gone in such a flurry and leaving in their wake so few memories to cling to. And endless tears.


Barbara said...

I want to tell you not to expect anything from yourself. I want to tell you to take each day and sometimes each moment as it comes and allow yourself to feel what ever emotion muscles its way in, even and especially when the good ones get a look in. Just accept it all. It's rotten and wrong and miserable and so so so wrong. I also want to tell you that it's ok to feel ok.

I want to tell you these things but I know that you have to find your own way through this. but you're not alone and every one out here in lostbabyland understands.


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