the anniversaries continue
Five years ago today, Abby came home. When a baby comes home from the hospital, it's such a time of celebration but for us, it was the beginning of the end. We knew exactly how much time we would have with her before we never saw her face again. It's so messed up that while she was alive we were only able to spend less than hour with her, touching and holding her, but after her death we had more than 40 hours to touch and hold a lifeless baby.
Over the years I think I've done a pretty good job at dealing with my grief, but when I think of all the time the doctors and nurses robbed us of I get SO angry; more angry as the years go by. There was a bed in the LDRP that I could have been in while they worked on Abby. When they knew it was hopeless and I asked them to tell me the truth they refused to be honest about the outcome and they took her away to die in a plastic box in an ambulance instead of letting her die in my arms. Most people would think I would want to be spared that horrible experience, but it's the opposite. Really, what parent would rather their child die alone just to spare themselves the painful experience of seeing their child die? Not me. I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant I could have more time with Abby, and I know Jack would too.
Today I remember the anticipation, fear, joy, love, anger, pain, and gratitude of having Abby come home. It finally put an end to the crazy loop of "I had a baby but where's my baby, I had a baby but where's my baby?" that had been going through my mind for 4 days. I wanted friends and family to finally meet her and have a chance to say good-bye, but I was fiercely protective of her. I wasn't disgusted at the thought of holding a dead body, but I was angry that she'd been taken apart and put back together.
I have studying to do today, and a variety of domestic chores but as I go about my day I will remember seeing her lifeless body for the first time, feeling her in my arms, introducing her to her sisters, touching her feet - every detail of this day, five years ago.
Over the years I think I've done a pretty good job at dealing with my grief, but when I think of all the time the doctors and nurses robbed us of I get SO angry; more angry as the years go by. There was a bed in the LDRP that I could have been in while they worked on Abby. When they knew it was hopeless and I asked them to tell me the truth they refused to be honest about the outcome and they took her away to die in a plastic box in an ambulance instead of letting her die in my arms. Most people would think I would want to be spared that horrible experience, but it's the opposite. Really, what parent would rather their child die alone just to spare themselves the painful experience of seeing their child die? Not me. I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant I could have more time with Abby, and I know Jack would too.
Today I remember the anticipation, fear, joy, love, anger, pain, and gratitude of having Abby come home. It finally put an end to the crazy loop of "I had a baby but where's my baby, I had a baby but where's my baby?" that had been going through my mind for 4 days. I wanted friends and family to finally meet her and have a chance to say good-bye, but I was fiercely protective of her. I wasn't disgusted at the thought of holding a dead body, but I was angry that she'd been taken apart and put back together.
I have studying to do today, and a variety of domestic chores but as I go about my day I will remember seeing her lifeless body for the first time, feeling her in my arms, introducing her to her sisters, touching her feet - every detail of this day, five years ago.