"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 "other" baby boy.


[Knock on wood] I've been having a few good weeks.  I say good in relative terms.  I'm not a bawling mess.  I'm not sitting around staring out the window and depressed.  Actually if I had to say what I was now I would say I'm nothing.  I don't feel anything.  I don't feel angry, or depressed, or excessively sad.  I just don't feel anything.  My biggest issue right now is not caring.  Not caring about anything.  Not how I look, not how I smell, how I eat, my weight, my health, my house, my dog, my friends and family.  Nothing.  I've just given up the desire to care about anything these days.  I'm keeping busy.  I'm not dwelling on my plight a lot.  I'm just existing.  I feel detached.  Like maybe if I stay over here in this little box I won't have to feel anything too overwhelming.  I'm never in the mood to do anything.  I think, "oh I should go visit so and so, or go do this or that" but in the end, I don't.  I just never seem to "want" to when it comes time.  I just don't "want" to do anything.  I still just want to sleep as much as I can, and zone out into a book or the TV or a movie.  I have a toddler, so obviously I can't do that all day, but when it comes to my free time, I just zone.  I don't scrap much anymore.  I don't blog much anymore.  I don't email much or play on facebook much.  I don't do much of anything.

Today we went to visit our friends who had their baby boy last week.  9 1/2 months after Logan died.  It was the first baby boy I've held.  The first baby my husband has held.  We survived.  Actually, for me, the nice part was that I didn't feel "anything" twards this little boy.  I was excited to see him, enjoyed holding him and really didn't connect my feelings for my son with this little boy.  That surprised me.  All of these long months I've sort of looked at it like Logan left, this little boy came.  But nothing.  I didn't feel angry, or sad.  I was more thinking of my daughter at her birth.  It was nice.  I was nice to see that I didn't flip out, or get jealous, or bitter, or resentful or cry.  I just enjoyed seeing him.  I enjoyed their happiness.  I'm releived to be past it.

Halloween came and went.  This was the first "holiday" where I didn't find myself obsessing over the fact that Logan should be here, and isn't.  I had fleeting thoughts about what I might have dressed him up like, but for the most part I was distracted and consumed about Halloween with my daughter this year.  I enjoyed the entire day and only stopped to think about his absence, and what I would have done, later that night while I was laying in bed.  I realized it this morning and it felt like perhaps that was sort of a break through for me.

On the way to our friends house this afternoon I found myself thinking about how old Logan should've been right now.  5 1/2 months.  Sitting up on his own.  I would have been starting him on Rice Cereal this week or next.  I try not to think about how old he would be, where he'd be at developmentally.  I think it would be too much to handle.  Only on occasion do I stop to think where he'd be.  But today it dawned on me that he wouldn't be a tiny baby anymore.  He'd be moving on into becoming a big boy.  He'd be wearing 6 month old clothes.  Nursing less, experimenting with solids, sleeping more.  Maybe trying to get around.  I've always thought of him as this tiny baby.  Perhaps he'll always be a tiny baby for me.  But today, for a few minutes, Logan wasn't a tiny little baby.  And maybe it made it easier to hold my friends baby.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm moving forward a little further.  Maybe I won't die after all...

Don't hold your breath though.  Christmas is coming.  Winter is coming.  The anniversary of his death is coming.

5 comments:

Franchesca Cox said...

I know that spot of feeling nothing. It is better than drowning in any other emotion you mentioned. I am kind of stuck right there too. Mostly I just miss her. I feel like the brunt of the anger is past (although my feelings can be deceiving...) which is nice, but it's good to know its not just me that feels nothing. Maybe it is healing? Maybe? That would be nice. Thank you for sharing your experience in this phase of grief so well. I could really relate. I haven't held a baby girl yet, but after reading this post maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, Jenna would be almost 6 months too... Wow. Again, thank you this post made me think and I could definitely relate!

xx

Catherine W said...

Oh Heather. Hang on in there. I'm glad you enjoyed the happiness of your friends and seeing their tiny baby boy. xo

margaret said...

Heather I have also been struggling with the not caring thing. I have shaved my legs once in the last four months and I can't even think about how long it's been since I wore makeup or cared about how my house or my person looked. I think it's just part of the numbing out from mourning. I'm sure I would be crazy right now if I stopped to care about all that I have let go since my son died. Maybe it's supposed to go that way, I don't know, I just hope it doesn't last. Good to hear you're still around. Hugging you

Karen said...

That numbness is a horrible feeling, isn't it? And so hard when we have to pick ourselves up and keep mothering. Big (((hugs))) and glad you've had some moments of peace and enjoyment. I'm so glad you've shared this.

Heather said...

Im impressed, and frankly, a little jealous that you were able to hold that baby, and even enjoy it a little. I can't even look a pregnant woman in the eye, and I never want to hold a baby again, unless it is my own. And I used to LOVE LOVE LOVE being with babies. Now it just makes me want to run, puke, break something. So good for you, Im glad for you. I'm feeling dteached too, cold, maybe. Kind of emotionless most of the time. Are we protecting ourselves?

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