Memorials

Yesterday U of M held a memorial service for the babies who get donated for study. Logan was included in that. I didn't go. Part of me thinks I should have, but the biggest part of me is tired of trudging through these swamp like waters of baby loss. I'm tired of being reminded and I'm tired of dealing with it. I feel like the more time I spend in dead baby land, the more sucked under I get. The more depressed, the more lonely, the sadder I become. So, lately I've tried to steer clear of anything that might pull me back down. I don't know if that's healthy or not. Frankly I don't care. I just need a break from the glum. I need a break and fresh air.

I talked to the Forestry Supervisor (which is a funny title since I live in the suburbs and not Montana or something) yesterday and he told me they will be planting Logan's tree on Friday, or sometime next week (weather permitting). David and I have agreed not to drive by and look with out the other. I'm anxious and it will be very hard for me not to be obsessive and go look every ten minutes. My mom is coming this weekend and David will be up north, so we're going to wait until next week to go look at it, together. I'm happy, nervous and sad all at the same time. I'm happy it's finally getting done, 4 months after the initial start of the plan. I'm nervous about how it will affect each of us to have to see this tree all of the time. I am planting it at the park where I would have taken Logan to play...the same park I take my daughter to play at now. The same park that my husband drives past everyday to and from work. I didn't really think that through before I decided to plant it there. I just assumed I would want it there, I assumed David would want it there, but I think it will be very hard for him to drive by and see that reminder everyday...at least for a while. I wanted it to be on public land so that if we ever moved we could still see his tree, visit his tree. Its the closest thing we have to a grave marker at the moment. But I never thought about what it would be like to see his grave marker every day. I just wanted the world to see it. I want the world to know that there was a little boy, and he made a huge impact on our lives. A weeping willow in the park seemed the perfect way to do that. But again, it makes me sad. Sad that I am planting a stupid tree for my son instead of taking him to the park to play.

Last night was a tearful night here. I feel so helpless and useless when I see my husband grieve. I just assume that's how it must be for everyone else. What can you do? Nothing. So I sit there and try not to cry too. Tears are contagious for me. Lately I keep thinking about how I never saw it coming. This wasn't ever anything I ever thought possible for my future. I mean who does? But I often sit around and think how I live in the house that 14 years ago my husband and I (who had only been dating for a month) took our 2 younger siblings trick or treating at, and never once did we ever think we'd live in that house a few years later. Or how 14 years ago I tried to imagine what life would be like married with children. I assumed I'd have 3, and well before I was 32 years old. But I do not. I have 1. And never in a million years did I ever imagine myself to have a child die. And now it makes it very hard for me to look forward and not see calamity. Because I experienced a very horrible unexpected reality, I can not even venture out to see my future. Maybe its because its too painful. I'm scared to think of myself with three children now. I'm scared to hope for more. Because now, no matter what, I'll always be plagued with the "what if" scenario. We talked about DS when we decided to have kids. We talked about Spina Biffada too, since that is a very real threat in my family. But honestly I guess I never thought it would really happen to us. That's scary stuff that happens to other people, not us. Our baby wouldn't die. God isn't that cruel. But now that I know the reality, now that I know that no matter how great the odds are in our favor...it's always possible. And that is the scariest reality.

I've also been thinking a lot about why David's son died. I mean, my life is filled with unpleasant things. My parents divorced when I was a baby. My dad is a jerk. My brothers have all had there fair share of devestation. My grandparents and mother too. So to be honest I can see how and why having my child die would fit into the equation...but not David's. David has always been such a good person. His family is well built and functions well. David has always strived for the best, done his best and is an honest good man. I can find no reason what so ever for his baby to have died. You can look at my life and see how it could have happened, but not David's. Which leaves me with the blame. If he'd have married better. If he'd have dated around and found a different option than me. If I had been content with an only child as he was. If I had really thought it through and agreed with him that we were pushing our luck with having another baby at our age. His son is dead because I am never content. Perhaps that's the "lesson" or "reason" every one keeps telling me God has. Maybe it's that I was never content with what I had, and now I will never know real contentness, because something will always be missing.

I've been thinking about my son's ashes a lot lately. We need to get the urn. Need to. We've been avoiding that for too long. We need to put the proverbial lid on it. The thing is, what if I like the one I get, but then change my mind later? And I don't know that I can pour my son's burnt up tiny remains into a new container. I mean, there must be dust left behind in the bag or bowel that he is in. I can't just toss that into the trash, that's my son!! I thought I would take it to the funeral home here and let them do it, that way I won't ever really know what happened. I'm not stupid. I know that when they put his ashes in the container they didn't get every last speck out of the furnace or whatever. But I didn't have to be there, and I didn't have to see it. I can't just throw his dust into the trash can like it's garbage. And the other thing, I don't know where I want to put the urn. I'm thinking of getting an urn that looks like a statue. That way I don't have to answer questions or make people feel weird if they see it. They won't even know. Having someone cremated in my family just isn't accepted. I didn't want Logan cremated, it was the only option I had if I wanted U of M to do the autopsy, and at the time that seemed the most important thing. And I'm not sure I want it stuffed into my closet. Even now I can not bare the thought of putting his ashes into my chest or my closet. That is why they continue to sit in that wretched box on top of my armour. He needs a place in this home. A place that is all his. Not a shrine or anything, just a spot for Logan to be. I've contemplated a place at a cemetery, or burying him with my grandmother or David's...but at the moment I don't want him anywhere but with me. And frankly I'd carry him in my pocket if I didn't think David would commit me. I've thought about dividing his ashes up, but the thought of having a vial that contains maybe a piece of his toe and a piece of his ear...its just wrong. I can't do it. And I know that its because this is not a natural process in life that it is so hard to rectify it. You can not come to terms with something that is so beyond reason. I just wish I could stop trying so hard to come to terms with it.