"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.


Still breathing, and it still hurts (Logan came home)

Today my son came home. Logan was delivered to my doorstep via registered mail. Priority Mail. My delivery lady had no idea she was carrying my broken heart in that quaint little box. I had no idea that the door bell was going to announce the arrival of more sorrow and tears. David and I stared at the box. Do we open it? What's inside? This must be morbid to look. Ultimately David opened the box, convinced there would be a clear bag with our son's remains. There was not. There was a plastic black box. It looked like a trash can to me. He opened that box, and to my horror there was a small plastic bowl, much like a shallow butter bowl, packed between paper towels. We didn't open the bowl. My son arrived in a friggin' tupperware bowl. How could they? Why wasn't there a warning? Why didn't they send us a letter telling us that he'd be arriving soon (since we thought it would be August or later). Why didn't they tell us what to expect when he arrived? I thought he'd be in an urn. I felt like I'd been punched. I felt like I witnessed some horror that I had to turn my eyes from. Where's the respect? Where is the sensitivity to my intense sorrow. I was horrified enough that they were going to mail my sweet little baby, but in a plastic bowl? I just didn't know. The pain drags on. Now I have to go buy an urn. Where do you get those, eBay, Sam's Club, Wal-Mart? "Oh hey, I need a mini urn for my cremated infant, you got any?" I'm just horrified at the amount of injustice that seems to get slapped onto us day after day after day. OUR BABY DIED!! Don't we get some grace? Don't we get a pass? Don't we get something other than pathetic attempts at spoken comfort and uncomfortable looks? I need a break! I need something to go right for me. I don't want any more horrible reminders of the injustice that was dealt to me. I want to find my peace. I want my son back. I know I can't have him back, but I want him back. The irony of this event today was that, being as my son was due this Tuesday, he could have actually come home today...alive. And just in case the small box was an awful reminder that I am not pregnant, my FitPregnancy Magazine arrived in the mail today too. Thanks for that, universe. I needed one more punch in the gut. I bawled my eyes out when we opened the box. When it arrived I was numb. I just stared at it. But once the box opened, the flood gates did too. I felt like it was happening all over again. My pregnancy feels like a different life. My husband said today that "it's been a lifetime of grief" and I have to agree. We've had enough sadness to fill up an entire lifetime, in just 3 1/2 short months. I know I keep saying this, but I hate this. I really truly do. I have never hated anything this much before. It's beyond hatred. I don't know what is beyond that, but it's beyond what is beyond that. I just want this to go away. I want it over with. I want it to never have happened. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to miss a "should've been" or a hope of a child who never was. I don't want to see the deep sorrow in my husbands eyes anymore. I don't want to have to fake smiles, and pretend that my life hasn't been flipped upside down and imploded in on itself. I don't want to answer the shallow "how are you" questions with a sigh and a shrug. I don't want to know that my son is in a little box in my bedroom because I just don't know what to do with him right now, or if I can do anything with him at all. I don't want the few tangible memories I have of him to be in a sad little box. I don't want an afghan that I can never wrap him in. I don't want this monstrous hole in my heart where a little boy's smile, my hopes and dreams should be. I don't want this. I don't know what to do with this, or who I am supposed to be, or how I should feel or act. I don't know me anymore. I'm scared. I'm eyeball deep in a sorrow that I don't understand. I know that no matter how my son arrived home today, he would still be dead, and I would still find all of it unacceptable. This is not acceptable to me.

12 comments:

Ter said...

(((many hugs)))

most funeral homes have urns for even the smallest of infants. I have to tell you though, take your time in looking. We went to one place and they only had 3 little urns that were ugly ugly ugly. I picked the least ugly. I hated that urn with a passion (well, partly because I didn't want my baby in an urn!) After my husband died, I got my daughter a new urn to match her daddy's. I like her new one better, but honestly, since I brought her back home and her daddy home, I have barely looked at them, because it hurts too much right now. Eventually, I think I'll be getting a niche for all 3 of us to be in. The one at the funeral home/cemetery where my husband was they tried to tell me that 3 people can not be in one niche (my daughter's urn is the size of my palm! if you can put toys and photo frames and figurines in it then surely you can put a palm sized urn in with 2 adult ones) also I know this is not true because my friend (fellow bereaved mom) has a niche where her daughter is and they have been told that both her and her husband can go in there some day. So I will see.

But anyway, I'm sorry I rambled on there for a bit. I'm sorry this happened to you. There is just nothing good about this situation at all. There is everything wrong about your child coming home as ashes and not bundled up in your arms.

(((HUGS)))

Mrs. Spit said...

Oh sweetheart, this is so wrong. There's nothing right about this.

I'm sorry. And when you are ready, I can tell you where to go for that urn.

Sending hugs and all kinds of love.

Barbara said...

Oh Heather, how awful. You're right, there is no grace here, how could there be. None of it is right. It's all too much.

Thinking of you and your sweet Logan.

xxx

Carla said...

I'm so sorry. It is a very impersonal way to recieve Logan's remains home. Its a hard road this road of grief. There is no short cut through it unfortunately...but you will get through it. I wish with all my heart that I could show you a by-pass for all the suffering that you are experiencing..but there isn't one. Time will tick on and with it the ugly gut wrenching grief will lesson and will be replaced with a just below the surface managable one. You will smile again...it will take time though. Go easy on yourself. Allow yourself this time of grief..as ugly as it is. Some people would have mothers "move on", "get over it" etc. but thats just not possible. not yet.

I wonder if you would feel better if you went out and found the perfect little box or urn or something for his ashes. I know its still a horrible thought ..but no more horrible than what you have already and are currently already going through... it would feel like you are mothering him in some way. Do you know any woodworkers that can custom build a little box? I have also seen teddy bears that hold a little heart containing ashes. A local funeral home would have a selection...or do some looking online. Find the perfect one to honor your son. Welcome him home..in the only terribly unfair way you can.

love and prayers,

Aunt Becky said...

Absolutely awful and I'm so sorry.

CLC said...

What a suckerpunch. I am sorry. None of it seems right or fair. I wish you didn't know this pain.

Inanna said...

I posted pictures of the urns we bought on my blog. If you like them, email me and I'll give you the link to where we got them.

http://inannajourney.blogspot.com/2009/05/more-of-mothers-day.html

(scroll down)

Stephanie said...

I just found your blog, so I need to go back to get the full story. But this post hit me in a part where I needed to say how sorry I am for you. I can't say that I know at all how you feel, as I have not gone to the otherside yet. However the child i'm carrying suffers from a fatal condition, I have another 2 wks with him. If you're anything like me then no words will make you feel better right now, and everything even the small things seem to hurt. But If you are anything like me knowing that you have ppl following your sons story, as you honor his very short life makes you feel like better even if only for a min. So know that you are in my prayers and that I will am following this story as you honor your son.

Steph, Vayden's mom

Emily said...

((hugs)) We ended up getting a beautiful wooden box from a furniture store. I agree to take your time.

emily from stepping stones

Emily said...

Heather, I guess you read we just went through something like this. It's hard, seeing your child, a huge piece of your heart, treated without care. You'll find the perfect resting place for Logan. I was torn between the urn we got (http://www.memorials.com/Keepsakes/Heavens-Love-Angel-Keepsake-Box.php), and a small plain urn that I would have had placed in a teddy bear at Build A Bear.

I'm still praying for you and your family. ((hugs))

Angela said...

I'm so sorry! I have just stumbled upon your blog, and everything you say sounds so similar to what I think. We ended up picking a music box to put our Ella in. The truth is, you will never be ready to pick something, and NOTHING will be good enough. And there is not a good spot to put your baby either. Ella came in a ziploc bag. Inside a velvet container. Nothing is more harsh than seeing your baby as dust, for sure.

You are not crazy. You will eventually get something, but you will not be ready. I had to force myself...and it was 3 months before she even came home. It took so long to get something to put her in, we kept running into problems.

And maybe I am the crazy lady, because I have looked at my child's ashes. I have touched the bag, and picked it up. I have become morbid, when I never was before. So no, your thoughts do not make you crazy, or your actions.

Babies dying are what make us feel crazy.

Angela

JonsMom said...

Hello, I found your blog because I was looking for other grieving parents feelings on ashes. It has been almost 4 years since my son was killed in a fire at the age of 17. I am sorry that you have had this horrible thing happen to your baby, too. I for one, am struggling with the fact that I simply cannot bring myself to bury my son's ashes, and I have people telling me I am weird. I don't care... I am not ready to part with him. You are not crazy at all...just a normal, broken-hearted Mom. I am so, so, so sorry for your broken heart, also. I pray for all of us grieving Moms every day....much love, Carole

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