Laying here in bed, I can't tell you why sometime I just start thinking about THE DAY, the day we lost Liam. Liam is ALWAYS on my mind, whether the forefront or somewhere on the back burner, but sometimes like a punch in the gut, the events leading up to us holding Liam just hit me. I am suddenly, without warning thinking about how I went into labor. Trying to piece together the timeline of events and even find myself googling questions. Once again, I am scrambling for answers, answers to questions I thought I had long laid to rest.....Did my body go into labor because Liam had died? Did I go into labor first and that contributed to his death? Signs of labor are what had us thinking that day, then when I started spotting I called the doc. By the time we were on our way to the hospital I was measuring contractions, once at the hospital they were 2 minutes apart.
I remember after taking a shower and shaving my legs, grabbing the to-go bag I hugged Brad and told him I was scared. He assured me that Liam was fine and he prayed for us. I feel so guilty because in the that moment the thought of Liam not being safe was never a thought in my mind. I was coming to terms with the fact that I was in labor and I was petrified of delivery. It breaks my heart to think that Liam was in distress, or already gone and I was selfishly thinking about myself.
I think about how we should have RUSHED to the hospital and I should have NOT showered. Then I remembered. I remember feeling him kick, it was lower left side. He kicked me one time when we were standing at the receptionist desk in Labor and Delivery. I googled if you can feel a baby kick after they are gone and everyone said it was probably gravity and my movement that were moving Liam around. I will never know for sure if he was alive in that moment, or if we missed saving him by mere minutes. Sometimes they can tell if baby has been gone for a long time when you deliver. Liam hadn't been gone that long, we know for sure he was kicking up a storm as we played poker with friends till 2am the night before he was born.
The events that took place after that are behind me, yet I am once again asking God to give me peace. Peace that there was nothing else I could have done, peace that it wasn't my own selfishness that we could have saved him had we hustled. Peace that we didn't miss him being alive by mere seconds.
Then I think about him and have to nearly say it out loud for my heart and head to agree. I HAD a baby BOY!!! I actually had a SON. I had a son who would have developed a personality, who I would have interacted with. I think about Kylie and think that Liam wasn't just a baby that I held lifelessly in my arms. He was a person, he was alive at one point. Ugh, I feel like I am in a dream, running in slow motion through a pool as I try to articulate how I am feeling. This bizarre emotion and confusion almost of thinking about how you had a child but never got to meet (really) or know them.
I HAD a son but I don't HAVE a son.
I think as Kylie gets bigger and begins to grow out of things like the swing and play mat, and we start to pass those things along, it will be tough. Tough to think that all those things we got for Liam being gone. It will begin to mark the end of our child bearing years, of having babies, of having babies around our home. Another thing that makes Liam seem so distant as my last baby quickly moves to being more of a toddler than a baby. Liam will always be a baby to me. Yet, the reality of that and all of the tangible things will soon be gone. I can only hold onto a few intangible things that often seem to allude me.
Memories can fade and even trick us sometimes.
I know that guilt and "what if's" are something I will probably wrestle with in some capacity for the rest of my life. Some nights, like tonight they are hitting me hard. That and the weirdness that is the whole thing. I look back in my minds eye to our townhouse on the Chesapeake Bay and it's almost as if I was in the movie "A Christmas Carole" and I was with the ghost of Christmas past, peering through the window at myself. But it's like it's not me.
I had a son but I don't have a son. It feel like a lifetime ago.
Not so much even the "Why God why?" Why did you let him die but more of the "How". How did this happen and why from a medical standpoint. There are days I feel like I should have filed a lawsuit with Sentara Norfolk General and the doctors, but I know we chose not to for all the right reasons.
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