An empty car ride home....

Leaving the hospital in a wheelchair with my arms empty. The second worst moment in this. Leaving without my baby. Without my living and healthy son. I had to leave him there, alone. I left with nothing, nothing but emptiness, a blue satin covered box, flowers and 4 polaroid pictures... one of me holding Christian and the other with Andy holding him. Thankfully, one of the nurses had a polaroid camera and captured these terrible pictures.

The blue satin covered box contained Christian's blanket, knit striped hat and two pieces of paper with his hand and foot print.

My son's entire life's belongings were in this box.

The stamped imprints of him have now faded.

The next few days were extremely difficult. The emptiness suffocated me. The ache for my son was overbearing. It is the most frustrating feeling for me. Being in a situation, where you have no control, not at all... to watch your son slip away and you can do nothing. I could not escape the pain. I felt like I was trapped in a box with the air being pure heartache and I could not get out.

Flowers started coming, they seemed to be ringing the doorbell once an hour. They came from family, friends and both of our co-workers. I know it was a way for them to show their support and sorrow for our loss. But, I hated them. I hated the flowers... I didn't want them in my house. I didn't want to see them. It felt like they were a screaming reminder of what had just happened. Everytime the doorbell rang, my mind slipped deeper into itself. At that moment, my spirit, my being, everything about me had found a place to hide, a place to go deep inside and block this all out.

I would cry myself to sleep holding the blanket that was wrapped around him. When I was asleep, there was no pain, no heartbreak, no ache to hold him, no thoughts of his face, no memory of watching him die. But when I awoke, I instantly could feel "that" grief penetrate every cell of my body like liquid fire. I felt sick and my heart hurt and ached more than I thought was even possible. Death is a part of life, I understand that.

Losing a parent, Grandmother/father, Aunt, yes it happens and it's very sad. But, losing a child is indescribable. Your child is an extension of your body, your heart, your spirit and your soul. When your child dies, so does every part of "you" that went with that child. Sadness, emptiness and sorrow takes it's place. 

There is no miracle pain reliever for grief.

The third worst moment was upon me. It was the second day without my son. I was laying in the bathtub that morning and my milk came in. Another big breakdown. My milk had come in for my baby and he wasn't here. My body didn't know that the baby it just spent 9 months caring for, feeding, nurturing didn't live once he was released. I was cheated those moments of feeding and bonding with my baby. If you've been there, you know what I mean. I'm not even going to try explain how much that hurt and the emotions a mother feels about that.

I remember a few times crawling into my bedroom closet. I was trying to hide, trying to hide and block out this pain I couldn't get away from. The sorrow was too much for me. I sat in there all alone and cried very, very hard, trying to empty my spirit of this pain. I was paralyzed... my mind was slipping into a dark place where numbness wrapped itself around me...

Depression was introducing itself to my life.

Depression... It came into my life that day and has remained a permanent resident in my soul.