Messed Up...

I want you to try something. If you’re a parent, this should be easy. If you’re not a parent, you can still do what I’m about to tell you to do. Simply think about a special baby in your life instead. Parent or not, if you’ve been reading my blog for a while, I want you to seriously try this. If you don’t have the time right now, come back to this post later.

Ready?

Take a moment to remember the first few seconds and minutes of your baby’s life. Visualize and feel the sights, sounds, emotions, and aromas of that moment in time. It was beautiful, wasn’t it? Love at first sight. Sheer joy. You cooed over your baby. You marveled at how perfect he/she was. You covered that precious face with countless kisses. Every squeak, cry, and movement he/she made was heaven on earth. You would adoringly watch this child sleep in your arms for hours on end. Remember your baby’s soft, gentle breathing. Remember the warmth of that tiny baby snuggled in your arms.

The world was simply perfect, wasn’t it?

Now, think about the following hours and days of your baby’s life. Your initial infatuation swiftly underwent a metamorphosis and turned into a profound love. Reality sets in. You start to tend to your baby’s needs. Your baby had a rhythm. Likes and dislikes. A name. This baby truly felt like he/she was yours once you were home from the hospital. No more nurses or doctors to poke and prod your little one. You just started to fantasize about the weeks, months, and years you would spend together in your home. Remember the sound of your baby’s precious cry beckoning you to come and comfort him/her. Remember those sweet, inquisitive eyes looking up at you in the wee hours of the morning.

This is an exquisiteness that cannot be described.

Now, imagine that this baby that you love so much, suddenly and unexpectedly got sick. Imagine that this baby, the same baby that you are so completely and utterly enamored with...

...died.

You will never see those beautiful eyes looking up at you again. They are closed for all eternity. You will never hear his/her cry again. Those sweet lips can cry no more. You will NEVER fucking feel your baby in your arms again. All you have left is a heavy feeling of emptiness around you. The loveliness that you just experienced, is gone.

The pain is heart wrenching, isn’t it?

Perhaps this excersize has given you some perspective. I’m sorry if I just made you feel emotions that you’ve never felt before. Even I am having trouble maintaining my composure as I write this. I’m sorry, but I just had to get this off of my chest. Imagine how you would feel if you were never meant to see your son/daughter grow up.

Imagine your life without the baby you knew once upon a time.

In the first few days and months after Ethan passed, a few people told me that I should be grateful that Ethan was “just a baby” when he died. “Could you imagine what it would feel like if you lost him at (blank) age?” I was told that the pain would be far greater if I “really” got to know him. I beg to differ. It hurts all around. In all honesty, the first moments you spend with your baby are the hardest to forget. Women in their 80’s can still distinctly remember the day they gave birth to their children. Your child will always be your baby. You see, a huge wave of emotion hits you in the minutes, hours, and days after your baby is born. It’s easy to remember “birth day” and the days after, because you there so many feelings associated with it. Emotional highs are at its peak.

You’ve never felt euphoria like this before.

I don’t care if you lost your child through miscarriage or stillbirth. It hurts. I don’t care if all you had was a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years with your child. Outliving your children is not natural. It is the most painful feeling a person could ever experience.

Frankly, I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.

When I think about Ethan and how much I miss him, I just want to breakdown and cry. When I remember how horrible it feels to not have him in my life, I want to fucking die. Obviously, I won’t do anything to myself. I love God and my family too much to waste my life. I have plenty to live for, but I wish there was some way for me to kill the “pained” part of me. I just want to turn off the “hurt”, you know? Only a parent who has lost a child can understand how hard it is to go on day after day after day. Each day is simply another day without your baby. Just another day spent missing what was never meant to be.

I will never be over losing my baby.

Would you if you were me?