Monday, December 31, 2012

Partial Release

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. 


Anonymous said...

How do I fully share my angony for you, my sweet friend?? I can tell you again how deeply I love you & those 2 loving males still with you& how blessed they are to be a part of you. I can tell you how blessed I am to be a part of your life. Your sweet prince who will greet you at heaven's gate will share your life from a different vantage point but will always soak in your love.I wish I could say the perfect words to soothe & heal your soul but we both know...only God can do that.Feel my spirit with you every time you shed a tear...also remember that my rule is that no one cries alone...I join you.May God continue to hold you closely & give you the peace only He can. Love you so mucH. Teresa

Anonymous said...

I've been following your story & I wanted you to know how sorry I am for your loss. I've been praying for you all and will continue to pray for peace.

2S's & 2J's in NC

Anonymous said...

Those are the most beautiful, heart-breaking words I have ever read. They touched the deepest core of my being.