6 Months. Looking Back.

I wasn't scared.
I went in thinking my non-stress test was no big deal, that in 30 minutes I'd be out the door, going home to take a needed shower and nap.
What happened next was not exactly what I had planned.
They placed the monitor on my belly to hear the baby's heartbeat and the nurse couldn't find it. She searched and searched and searched and just as I was about to freak out, Gavin gave me a swift kick in the rib to let me know he was just being funny. Hide and Seek, apparently.
Once she took my vitals, it alllll started to go downhill. My diastolic blood pressure was 112, I think. In a pregnant lady, that's cause for some serious concern- from everybody but the pregnant lady! I wasn't worried, but the nurses started moving faster. One got me a gown and had to start an IV, another was just watching Gav on the monitor, there was a 3rd in charge of small talk. Out of nowhere, my OB showed up. She went over the paper spilling out of the monitor. "Well, my dear, I know you won't like this, but it's time to go to the cities."
Shit.
I argued, tried to reason with her, if she would just let me go home and get some stuff I would go right after! Surely I could wait for Nate or my mom to come pick me up and take me there.
"We already paged the ambulance." Fuck!
I should have been nervous, but I was mad. At that point, I started to whine and beg. I'd go, but please, not with my co-workers! My other option, she said, was a helicopter. Fine, I'll go in the truck. But call downstairs and tell me who is working today so I can at least pick. I was horrified and embarrassed. "Too late, they're waiting outside the door." I demanded my pants. If my coworkers were going to see me like this,  like the patient instead of the paramedic, they were not going to see my bare ass!
My nurses and doctor left to go talk to them and I could hear them outside my room arguing. It will be fine, the Mag is running and she's only at a 1. Just go fast. But we want a nurse to ride along! If there are complications, we will need extra hands. At that point, I quit listening and turned my attention to Gavin.
You better stay in there, little boy. Just two more hours, please. We'll be okay, but you need to hang out for awhile. He gave me a good kick and I knew he would be fine.
My coworkers entered with the cot I have put many other people on. They had looks of terror and pity on their faces. I was their transfer nightmare. I was wheeled through the ER and tried to avoid eye contact with the nurses and doc there. It didn't work.
Then my Mag Sulfate drip started to kick in, and I started to feel like shit. I was unbearably hot and had to have ice packs on and around my face. I felt like I had the world's worst hangover- straight from hell. Luckily, the ride was uneventful and my paramedic/coworker was great, even though she was nervous and not hiding it well.
We arrived and got situated and they did a really low-quality ultrasound. I learned how awkward it is to attempt to maneuver an IV pole around a bathroom. I had to work hard to convince the new nurses to even let me go to the bathroom unattended. As much as I begged and pleaded, I could not get anybody to sneak me some water. Nate got there, and they started talking about consent forms and birth options. Baby is coming tonight, they said. Turns out, I was at a serious risk for having a stroke.
I had decided earlier in the day that I wasn't going to think about it, about what could go wrong. I knew, and I ignored. I knew that Gavin would be okay, I had researched and researched and researched, and 32 week preemies were almost always okay. We would live in the NICU for awhile, but he would be fine. So when they said it was time to prep for a c-section, I didn't argue. I didn't shake, my heart didn't race, nothing. I had spent the last 14 or so weeks of my pregnancy being scared. I was going to meet my son, and we were going to be okay. I finally felt a little bit of peace.
I went through all the unpleasantries of prep: cath, spinal block, meds... ready to go. I felt them start cutting, and then I got upset. Nate wasn't there yet. I told the nurse I wasn't ready, that Nate wasn't there. She said it's okay Honey, he will be in here soon! I quietly yelled that I needed him and they needed to wait, and then he finally appeared. He held my hand and talked to me and I tried really hard to not think about what was happening.  At 9:08, Gavin was born. As soon as he was out, it was quiet. I'm still not sure what the NICU team was doing with him. After a few moments of silence, I heard a squawk. It was little, but he was making his arrival statement! The entire day hit me at that point, and I threw up. Probably mostly from the meds, but partially from relief. We had made it, my Gavin and I.
I have no idea what was being said behind closed doors that made people so scared and nervous for me... I'm sure it was the situation itself, it's life-threatening and my case was severe. A few months after, Nate and I were talking about it and he told me he was so proud of me for being so strong, I said it really wasn't a big deal I just had to get through it for my boy. He said he didn't know who he was more scared for- me or Gavin. He thought I was going to die. I'm not sure why, but I just wasn't scared.
Fast forward 6 months, and I'm scared now. Not that I'll die, but that my children will. Straight-up terrified.

Gav,
You'd be 6 months old today. Sometimes I think my heart stopped when yours did. Some days I feel dead inside. Some days are fine. I always miss you, though. I miss your cute little face and big old feet. I miss watching you scoot yourself around your isolette, only stopping when you crammed yourself into a corner and then being mad about it. I miss seeing myself and your daddy in you. I miss our midnight meetings, and I miss holding your hand. I miss just holding you. I miss being Mommy and having that purpose in my life. I miss all the things we are missing out on. I loved you from the start and I'll love you until I end. I miss you, little bug. xo

emotional messes.

I haven't been writing lately because I haven't had much to say. I feel like a broken record... I miss my boy... that's just my new every day life!
I've been frustrated lately and unsure of how I'm feeling. The worst feeling in the world is thinking that people have forgotten Gavin, and reality is that some have and some have not! While I can't make people feel a certain way, I haven't learned how to control the hurt that comes with that. Every time I realize somebody has deleted me on facebook or someone avoids me in public, it sucks. When the people I expect to want to remember Gavin just plain don't, I truly have to fight back tears. There are people in my life who should be front and center that I just don't want to be around anymore because I feel like a pile of crap that my son didn't and doesn't matter to them... and I shouldn't have to feel that way.
See, the broken record thing? I've talked about that before. It's still there, though.
We are trying to sell our house (going on 3.5months) to move into a bigger beautiful house that honestly isn't a need, it's just a want. We were discussing that one evening with friends and I was told maybe I should just be thankful for what I have. They went on to explain that I have a home, a man that works hard, a nice vehicle and there are people who have far less, so I should just be content. Yeah, I probably should be.
But truth is, I have a home where I wake up and open my bedroom door just to be facing another door, one that's closed. It's always closed. Behind it lies an adorable blue nursery with a stinkin cute crib that matches the stinkin cute dresser full of stinkin cute clothes that are never going to be worn. Not to mention the super comfortable papasan rocking chair that nobody sits in. There's a name on the wall that I made myself to let Nate know he had come out victorious in the naming battle, a name that barely gets used. I have a home. A nice, comfortable home. This home is full of the future that no longer exists. It's just a room... but it's Gavin's. I can't take it down, or pack it away. I can't turn it into a guest room. I can't. It's just there, life's little way of making fun of me. It got me good this time.
Also, a lot of people who have far less than me have the one thing in life I don't, and I work hard and contribute to the county fund for their 10 children ... but hey, I have a nice car. How lucky am I?!
I realize people don't get it. I get how people might think I'm being selfish. But here's the deal. I work my damn ass off to help people, and their children, and their parents, (and I love my job, don't get me wrong) and then I get to come home and be slapped in the face with that door- the one that laughs at me and points out that I can save lives, just not Gavin's.
So yeah, I want a new house. Not even a new one- just a different one. I realize that it won't make everything go away or stop hurting or make me feel better in any way, but I can at least put an end to one part of the grief. That room symbolizes a future that was totally ripped away. It makes me sad for what I don't have. It makes me hurt to have the visual reminders of where Gavin should be at any point of the day, or what he should be wearing or playing with. In this house, there's nothing I can do about it, that will always be his room full of his stuff. I want to start over so that I can remember the good part- my son. I want his pictures on the wall and his name next to a clock stopped on his time of birth, I want to remember what I had and be grateful for it. I got to be a mom, and that's still mindblowing to me, and I want to recognize the good... not have a constant physical reminder of the bad.
So yeah, have your opinion. I know part of my reasoning is probably totally irrational, I just don't care.
But don't ever tell me to be content with what I have, when I am living in one big reminder of what I don't.

As I sit in heaven,
And watch you every day,
I try to let you know with signs-
I never went away.
*****
I hear you when you're laughing
And I watch you as you sleep,
I even place my arms around you
To calm you as you weep.
*****
I see you wish the days away,
Begging to have me home.
So I try to send you signs,
So you know you're not alone.
*****
Don't feel guilty that you have life
That was denied to me.
Heaven is truly beautiful,
Just you wait and see.
*****
So live your life, laugh again,
Enjoy yourself, be free.
Then I'll know with every breath you take-
You'll be taking one for me.

On Being Honest.

I am so torn on where I am. I try to be open, but I know that I mostly am not. I talk to people, but I don't really talk to people. I go on like I'm fine, and a lot of days I am. But on the days that I am not, I find it hard to reach out or to say anything because I feel like a burden, like others have moved on and don't want to have hard conversations. So a lot of what is on my mind just stays there. Before everybody screams out and says "You know you can talk to me!", I probably do know that I can. I just I don't know how to bring it up, or even what to say.
I can try to lay it out. I feel like in terms of grieving, I'm doing kind of okay? I know how I feel (sometimes like absolute crap) but I also feel lucky in a way. I know why my Gavin died. I understand it. That does not make it easy, but at least I don't have those unanswered questions. I don't have the guilt. There literally was nothing I could have done to change it, and believe me, in a weird way that helps. I have this one feeling that helps me and developed a lot from my job, and have always been hesitant to say it because I feel pretty heartless. Maybe it won't make anybody think so, but it makes me feel like a terrible person. My therapist (yeah, I have one.) says I should get it out because it might help somebody else who may need that perspective. So I'll try to explain it more than just the simple version I gave to her- go easy on me.
While Gavin's death is the most horrible heartbreaking and painful thing I have ever experienced- it was a blessing for him.
Good grief, I feel terrible that I even just wrote that. I'll try to explain.
If Gavin had lived any longer, his life would have been so hard for him. He would have been very sick, and had uncontrollable seizures, probably problems breathing and eating, he would never have been able to do more than sit up, and I can't even think of the pain he would have had. I can't think of the pain he probably did have. I didn't want him to die, and if he had lived I truly believe we would have been the best parents he could have ended up with. It was never a question, we would have done whatever he needed. But how do you wish for that? How could I wish for another day, week, month with my baby when I know how hard it would have been for him? It would be selfish of me. I do have some seriously selfish days. I have why the fuck did this happen to us days. I have very very angry days. But for my Gavin, I feel peace.
In my line of work, I learned quickly that death can be a blessing. Just not for those left behind.

Speaking of anger earlier, I have a lot of it. It's totally corny, but they say you find out who your friends are. For us, it's more like you find out who your family is. I might go on a rant here, and it's very specific people. If you think it's you, I'd guarantee it's probably not. I doubt these ones would care enough to read this. I don't want to tear anybody down, and I do know that everybody grieves differently. But is it too much to ask for some to grieve at all? I mean, your first grandchild. You should care. You should have cared enough to show up more than once, and maybe once ask how we are. You should care enough to be mad that your sister was 2 blocks away at home during the funeral, and just didn't come. (Believe me, I'm mad) I realize the family way is to pretend stuff doesn't happen, but that will not be the case here. He was not a thing or a happening that will be swept under the rug like he didn't exist. He's my son. Your grandson. Your nephew.
He fucking matters.

I don't know if some relationships are fixable anymore. I don't know that I can go seeking people out and telling them what they did wrong in my eyes. I can't ask for an apology. I can't keep reminding them that I had a son. That was a little more harsh than I intended, but it needed to get out so I'm leaving it. For now anyways. I'll probably feel bad later and take it down, but I needed to say it. I hadn't noticed so far, but I think today is one of those angry days.

To My Boy

Gav,
It's the middle of the night.
I can't sleep.
Not unusual, I don't sleep much these days.
But tonight, my heart hurts. Freaking hurts.
I miss my baby. I miss you.
I know deep down that you're better,
that you have no pain, no suffering,
and gosh what more could I wish for!
But Little Bug, I'm not better.
I hurt.
It's 3:12 am.
I should be cuddling you, in the big comfy
chair I picked out just for us to cuddle in,
I shouldn't be sitting here crying.
But there's a big Gavin-shaped hole
in my life, and nothing else will fit.
I wish more than anything that
we could have another cuddle
right now and that I could give you enough
kisses to last an eternity,
but I know eventually
that day will come.
Until then, I'll love you forever.
Thanks for being mine.
I love you.
Mom

there's a little boy who holds my heart :)