June, so many people look forward to this month, school ends, the air is warm and the sun stays out for what seems like forever, ice cream drips from happy chins and families gather to celebrate each other.
June is a difficult month for me, this is the month that we found out our son was no longer alive, almost three years ago. The day was beautiful, the children at the daycare I worked for had a park day and I walked over to help them come back, all along day dreaming of seeing my baby on ultra sound that afternoon. I was almost 17 weeks, we were trying to stay on "team green" but deep down we hoped to get a glimpse of the gender. I had started to feel the baby move a few weeks prior, but that week was very hot and I remember not feeling much movement and saying something to a few people but chalked it up to it being early.
I entered the exam room, hopped on the table and told the tech all the above and she agreed it was early and maybe the baby wasn't facing out but in where kicks are hard to feel. Lights turned down, machine on and then....my baby. "It's in a funny position, I need to get the doctor." My reality set it very quickly, I looked at my husband, there isn't a heart beat. She said she would be back, please change the outcome, but the doctor confirmed what we already knew. What was inside me was no longer a thriving life but one that was now thriving in heaven. The image was still, yet beautiful. I looked at my husband, change this, change it now! Our baby, our child, lay silent.
Next came the chatter, autopsy, no, genetic testing, no, a D&E? No, I want to deliver this child. We were told that mourning was going to start. Who was she kidding? We had lost two grandmothers in the last two months, the mourning wasn't starting, just getting worse. At the hospital, they greeted me and sent me to the farthest room, away from the crying and placed a flower on my door. That flower hangs in our living room now, it signals to the staff that what is happening in that room isn't a live birth but a still birth. We view it as God' reminder that he cares for the flowers and he cares even more for us. I prayed for three things
1) A quick, natural delivery.
2) To be able to determine gender, to hold and to be with our child.
3) To know why their life was cut so short.
My contractions started quickly, my water broke and an hour later Logan Anthony came in and out of our lives. He was perfect, fingers, toes, eyes that only saw Jesus, never my face. His cord was wrapped tightly in several places, no medical testing needed, it was clear. He lived within me for just over 15 weeks and was part of us for 17. He will always be our third child. Always our son.
Bereaved mothers are all around, please be aware. We see every eye roll when we talk about our child, the whisper and every forgotten birthday is like a stab to the heart. If a close friend or loved one has lost a child, make a note of the day and remember them. From the time those two lines appear on the pregnancy test we plan futures, weddings, grandchildren. No matter how long that life is it matters to the parents. Even early miscarriages are carried with mothers, they may not speak of them but they remember that baby. A life is a life.
My son's life was far too short, we are healing but now that my children are growing older he is is more real to them than ever. I love to hear his name, to show his pictures because he was ours we celebrate him, and yes talk about him.
No many understand, but maybe its the fact that too many do....I don't wish this on anyone, I don't want anyone else in the world to know the pain of losing their child. It is said that until you walk in these shoes you won't understand. Than I pray to God that no one else understands.
