Carter

"I have a son - his name is Carter. And I miss him."
I don't know how many times a day those thoughts run through my mind.

When he was first born, my initial reaction was not to name him Carter. But Shawn echoed Livie's thoughts and chose the name Carter. And they made the right choice.

When I hear Olivia say Carter's name, my heart melts. His name is safe and loved in her mouth. She says his name with such care and love. Sometimes there is sadness in her voice, but it is always accompanied by a tenderness that only Livie could convey. Carter was her brother, and she loved him as much as we did. In the hospital, she was the proudest big sister. Time after time, she counted his fingers - 5 on each hand. And his toes - 5 on each foot. She marveled over every inch of him. His dark hair and tiny nose. Carter was her brother and she saw nothing but love for him.

Oh how I wish we could have brought him home. I wish I had more stories to tell about him. I try to relive every moment that we had with him. Carter and I - we had plans. Our first outing (just the two of us) was going to be to go get Shawn's birthday present. I already had it picked out, but I really wanted to be able to tell Shawn that his present was from his son, so I was waiting until he was born. Shawn's birthday is on Friday (which should be the day Carter turns one month) and I still haven't gotten his present. I am not sure I will be able to. I drove to the store, and burst into tears in the parking lot so I just went back home. I confessed to Shawn the other night that I am just not sure if I will be able to get his present this year.

I try to tell myself it is ok to be a miserable sobbing mess.  I can't imagine a day when I don't feel like this.    Right now, I need to savor every memory I have of Carter, and cry over every memory we won't get to make.  Friends reassure me that it won't be like this forever.  Someday I will be happy again.

Did I know? Should I have known?

At some point in spring 2011 I remember laying in bed and looking at our closet door.  I think Shawn may have been up and getting ready in the background.  But I remember the closet door so vividly, and thinking about how blessed we had been since meeting each other six years earlier.  And suddenly, I got a horrible awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I knew that things wouldn't always be easy for us, and our time was coming.  I don't know where those thoughts and feelings came from but I have never been able to shake that feeling.

 It isn't my place to share Shawn's journey with the world, but May brought a brain tumor.  And it wasn't always easy.  That was the beginning of our struggle.  I was already pregnant.

 My entire pregnancy, it felt funny to buy baby things.  Was my mind trying to tell me something?  Did my body know something that I didn't?  I was both scared and excited for the baby.  But there were somethings that I could never bring myself to do (like think about whether or not to circumcise).  Some decisions didn't feel necessary - even though they were.  When Livie and I went out to buy a new pump, it felt SO wrong.  The entire time that I wavered between the PISA and the Freestyle I kept thinking in the back of my mind, "why am I buying this?".  At the check-out, I had a strong urge to tell the cashier "never mind" and put the pump back.  I felt the same way when I bought the play mat, and sheets and clothes, and everything else I bought.

 The night I went into labor, I KNEW I was going into labor soon.   Livie's labor was so quick, that I swore this time around I would head to the hospital at the first sign of anything going on.  So why didn't I?  Why did I crawl into bed that night?

 Carter wasn't a particularly active baby.   My midwife said it was the anterior placenta.  Some days I hardly felt him at all.  But nighttime was our check-in time.  If I laid on my right side at bedtime, I would feel him.  And I could never fall asleep until he let me know he was still ok in there.  So that last night, why did I rationalize it when I didn't feel him when I laid down?

My Internet reading has taught me that a placental abruption can feel like a never ending contraction.   I know that feeling.  It started at Livie's bedtime and continued until I got my epidural.  And a placental abruption isn't all or nothing.  It takes time for the placenta to separate.  So what if when I crawled into bed that night it wasn't all the way separated?   What if I headed to the hospital then instead of trying to get some sleep in?   My midwife has told me multiple times that the outcome likely would not have changed.  Likely.  She says that there is nothing we could have done.  And I want so badly to believe her.   And I know I should.  I can't bring myself to think through the reasons why she is right, but she is.  By the time I knew something was wrong, it was too late.

I can't help but feel guilty.  Should I have seen this coming?  Should I have known?  My son is gone and I didn't save him.  My husband lost his son, and my daughter lost her brother.  And I am the only one that stood any chance of having saved him.  Not only do I mourn my son, I mourn for my husband and daughter and their losses.  I had so many plans and dreams for my little guy - and they are gone.

I don't know what the future holds for our family, but I do know that I am scared.  The future will never feel like a safe place again.   I want a long future with the man I love.  I want Livie to have a sibling.   More than that, she needs a sibling.   Otherwise she will be very much alone one day.

It will probably be 6-9 months before we get the ok to try again.  And even then, will we be ready?  Will we be healthy?   I will be a high risk pregnancy.  And there are no guarantees.  This we know.  And it won't be Carter - it will be some other baby.  And Livie will be 5 or older when he or she arrives.   That is too far apart for them to be close like I imagined and dreamed.   My mind spins 100 miles an hour with all the possible scenarios and lost dreams.

For now, all I can do is hope and pray that we all heal and stay healthy.  Time is precious, so I don't want to wish it away.  But I hope that the next six months are a good healing time for our family, and not as long and painful as the past six have been.

Did I imagine it?

Mornings are the worst. 

I sleep soundly all night, but when I wake up, reality hits me like a ton of bricks.  Some mornings I wake up and remember immediately.  Other mornings I reach for my belly before realizing that I am not pregnant anymore.  The worst is when I wake up to the feeling of my milk letting down.  On more than one occasion I have woken up to a letdown and in my half-sleep state thought to myself, "oh, it is time to feed the baby".  The thought lasts only for a split second but the moment I remember is like reliving his passing all over again.

When I was pregnant with Livie I loved every painful second of the pregnancy.  As much as I wanted to meet her, I also wanted to savor every second of her inside of me.  My pregnancy with Carter was different.  There were times that I forgot I was pregnant.  He wasn't a particularly active baby, and I didn't find myself enjoying the pregnancy like I did with Livie.  I told myself that it was the stress of Shawn's medical issues, and I told myself it was 2nd child syndrome.  The truth is, that I never got as attached and bonded to the pregnancy.  And that is so painful to me now.

Some days I have to remind myself that I didn't imagine Carter.   It is as if I could have been pregnant 10 years ago.  From the moment that I realized the nurses couldn't find a heartbeat, I felt like I was having an out of body experience.  Was this all really happening to me?  Did it all actually happen?  I went through labor and delivery.  I fell in love with the sweetest little boy I have ever laid my eyes on.  I have milk in my freezer.  But no baby to show for it.  Walking through a store, I don't have a little bundle for people to ooh and aah over.  All I have is 25 extra pounds.  No one knows that I should have a baby in my arms.  It would be so easy for me to pretend it never happened - but I can't.   I can't forget about the hole in heart.

Someday I will run out of pictures to share.  But for now, I have my proof.  I didn't imagine him.  He was here, and very much loved.

There are times when I just keep thinking that the nightmare has to end.  The past year has been so hard on us that there is no way it can possibly be real.  Why has this all happened?  Shawn and I are 29 - what 29 year old couple should have to go through brain cancer, the loss of their son and a pulmonary embolism all in 5 months?  It is just unbelievable to me.

Due Date

Today was/is Carter's due date. The day was a lot harder than I expected.

Livie was home with me for most of the day, and we just hung out and took it easy. Admittedly, I let her watch a lot more TV and play more computer than would be ideal. But I figure I have a good excuse.

The tears just wouldn't stop coming today. They have a mind of their own and are completely uncontrollable.

I just want to shout from the rooftops "I want my baby!!!". I miss him so, so, so much. Almost more than I can handle at times. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing that anyone can do for me. I am left with a big gaping hole in my heart that will never be filled. Losing a child is the absolute worst broken heart ever. No one should have to go through this.

I poured over the pictures that we have of Carter last night. I wanted to (and did) post one on Facebook today to honor him. And I had to pick just the right one. This is the one I eventually chose:

We are waiting for the rest of our shots from NILMDTS (Ginger took our pictures) but then that is it. It hit me last night that there will be no more pictures. We have what we have and there will never be more. No more chances. All I have left of my precious little boy are some pictures, footprints, snippets of hair and a box of ashes.

Before we left the hospital I tried to take in and memorize every inch of him. His dad's hands, his sister's baby toe and his long legs that he got from me. I smelled him over and over, trying to save his scent in my memory forever. But it wasn't long enough. It never would have been long enough. I don't have every inch memorized. I never got to see his eyes, and once he was dressed we never undressed him.

I asked the funeral home not to launder his clothes, in hopes that his scent would still be there. But it isn't. I have tried 100 times to smell his onesie but there is none of him on it. Just some make-up from their attempt to make him look ok for the viewing. (he did look fine, but he did not look like my sweet baby that I left at the hospital)

I don't know how to move forward from here. Everyone else's life is going on, but I am stuck. Stuck trying to come to terms with a life without my baby. I have a sweet, amazing daughter for whom I am so thankful. But I don't have my son and that is one broken heart that I'm not sure I will ever get over.