Monday, December 31, 2012

Partial Release

3 notes

I haven't cried since last Thursday morning when we confirmed that Adam's mighty heart had indeed stopped beating.  And that was but a brief cry before being admitted into labor and delivery.

About 30 minutes ago, Scott came to me and told me that Sam had just taken our memory bag upstairs.  He overheard Sam take Adam's tiny hat and tiny diaper that I made out of the bag and tell his buddy "I can't believe my mom did all that and the baby still died."

And I cried.  

I cried for my son.  I cried for all the pain that he doesn't understand nor know how to process.

I cried just a little so I could be strong for him.


And about 15 minutes ago, the funeral home delivered Adam's ashes. Scott, Sam and I were given two little boxes.  

The funeral home gave us a plain white box with ashes that we'll scatter into the ocean when we return to Topsail Island this summer.  Topsail Island...where this journey began.  Topsail Island...that was my husband's beautiful, perfect idea. 

We were also given a sweet little urn with a small amount of ashes especially for Sam.  When I explained to Sam about cremation and our plans, he asked if he could keep just a small bit of the baby's ashes.  

I'm telling you, that child has always been wiser beyond his years.

 
As we finished up with the funeral director, Sam asked to see the ashes.  We opened up the white box and pulled out a little bag filled with all that is left of my beautiful baby boy. Well, all except Sam's small token.  Sam regarded the bag for just a moment and then slowly walked away without a word.

And again I cried.

But this time I cried for me.  

All I've been thinking about as I've looked at Adam's pictures over the last few days is one, heartbreaking thing. For as long as I held him and talked to him and tried to lock in every last detail so as not to be forgotten, I wish I had held him longer. He was beautiful. He was peaceful. He was mine.  He had the cutest little lip hiding the sweetest little tongue.  I couldn't stop smiling and marveling at my child and loving him and telling him all about his family and thanking him for watching over us as he walked with God. And it took every fiber of strength I had to pass him back to the loving arms of the nurse.

Letting go of him was hard because I knew the next time I'd see him, it would be in a little white box. 

Monday, December 17, 2012

Sam's First Piano Recital

2 notes



Yesterday was Sam's very first piano recital!  And I had no idea how exciting the day would be!  On Saturday we went shopping for a new outfit and I swear he looked just like Scott when he was all dressed up and ready to play! He just took my breath away!

And for our families, and anyone else interested, here's the short video:





Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Praying for a Miracle Today

0 notes

Today is the day we've anticipated for a very long time.  Today was supposed to be our first ultrasound since finding out we were pregnant.  Today was supposed to be the day that Sam joined us as we found out the sex of the baby.  Today was just supposed to be normal.

And I am fighting like crazy to make this day everything we wanted it to be and everything Sam has looked forward to.

Because this is Sam's baby.

This is the baby he has prayed for.  While Scott and I had become content with our family of three, the only tears I ever shed were when Sam would be sad about not having his own brother or sister, his own "always home and ready to play" friend.  That's when I cried. And Sam just kept on praying.  So we've joked all along that this was his baby, that he got me into this wonderfully surprising condition through all his prayers and his heart's desire.

 I'm also praying desperately and humbly for a miracle.

I'm pretty sure that both of my doctors did not think we'd make it to this day.  But my little fighting angel has sure showed them!  And come what may after today, at least we made it this far.

While I am also preparing myself for what seems inevitable, I can't help but hold onto faith and the fact that God has blessed me with a life beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Surely he can bestow one more blessing upon me.  Before two weeks ago, I've always refused to ask God for anything for myself.  I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I pray for strength and serenity and I pray for friends and have no problems asking for specific things for them. Just not for myself.  But in the last two weeks, I have prayed and begged for a miracle that only He can deliver.  I have prayed for the life of my child.

Nothing would make me happier than to walk out of today's ultrasound with some small bit of evidence that things were improving.

So, in a few hours we shall see.

Monday, December 3, 2012

The Post I Wish Were Not True

5 notes

I used to blog all the time.  And I LOVE writing and recording our lives here.  But sometimes life gets in the way and I drop out for a while.  I've been so completely exhausted with this pregnancy that I have hardly been at my computer, much less taken the time to document this most special event.

And of all the times I neglected writing and all the events I've neglected recording, I will forever most regret not recording the last few months.

For those closest to me, I offer sincere apologies that you may be hearing our news here.  I simply cannot endure having to say some things over and over.

Tuesday, Scott and I had a regular OB appointment and Dave surprised us by pulling the ultrasound machine in the room so we could find out the baby's gender.  He was immediately concerned and quickly sent us to another room for a more advanced ultrasound.  There were some serious concerns about what we could see and he got the specialist to rush us in first thing Wednesday morning for an even more advanced ultrasound and a possible amniocentesis.

Basically, the baby is filled with too much fluid.  It probably started as two big cysts at his/her neck and has just spread from there.  Everything structurally looked perfect but he (?) also has extensive edema. My precious baby is incredibly swollen. In the next few weeks, his perfect little heart will not be able to pump against the pressure of the fluid and he'll pass away.  I'll then be induced and will deliver.

But for now, we wait. And pray. And hope for a miracle.

We are of course heartbroken.  I am only surviving because I know that God has a reason for making this a part of our journey.  I'm not sure what the reason is yet, but I have faith that one day we'll understand it.

Within a day or two I will post more about my feelings and how we are all processing this news.