He. is. not. coming. back. I will never know why and that IS our reality. It's absolutely horrible. Like the worst horrible ever. Until the day I die, I will forever be a mom on earth missing her son in a deep way.
I still cannot fathom, during some moments, that he really, really is gone.
Something silly (and shameful) that often pops into my brain is the ignorance I once held about mothers of stillborn children. I don't know if I really ever thought it through, but I'm sure if you would have asked me prior to Andrew's birth how stillbirths occur, I would have probably, embarrassingly, told you that they were often due to the mother's negligence. For thousands of years, babies have been born to parents who weren't taking extra precautions to take prenatal vitamins, stay away from secondhand smoke, etc. I guess because so many children are born to parents who are abusive while having a child in utero (i.e. drugs) and by God's grace (Why them?) are spared, I couldn't imagine babies being born dead with no known cause to women who were cautious and nurturing. Sure, there's a cause. We just don't know it and never will. Neither will my friends who are parents of children taken by SIDS, or miscarriages.
I would apologize for the outrageous amount of DB posts lately, but it's my reality for the rest of my life. How do you think I feel being that person who actually lives in these shoes and doesn't just read a sad post and carry on with my day? That was me before Andrew. I read them, too, and felt sorry. I cried at some. I thanked God I wasn't in their shoes. It's a whole different ballgame now.
Switching gears a bit...
I read this news article about a little boy who said that during a surgery, he slipped away to heaven. He sat on Jesus' lap, and met a sister in heaven he didn't know he had. It turns out that his mother had miscarried before he was born and that child was in heaven. He "came back" and told his family about his encounters and the sister he met that he never knew existed.
Listen. I don't necessarily believe that to be complete truth, nor am I in a place to reject it. But wouldn't that be lovely for us BLMs if it were true? This idea this boy revealed that our deceased babies are in heaven enjoying themselves, growing, and experiencing no hurt? Wouldn't that be just a wonderful release for us who are missing them so terribly? If Andrew were actually the age he is meant to be (15w2d) and not always 38w5d gestation? Wouldn't it be wonderful that although we must endure such incredible heartache and sadness for the rest of our lives, that our babies are living a peaceful life in heaven? I do believe Andrew lives in heaven with his creator, but I'm just not sure about the child visiting heaven, seeing things we aren't sure will be, and then coming back to share with us on earth.
Another gear change...
I wanted to really title this post "Still in Utter Disbelief & How Much I HATE the Teacher's Lounge", but I figured keeping it short would be best--though it appears I've written a novel thus far.
As a kid, the teacher's lounge is a mortal abyss where no student has ever gone before. To some teachers, it's the land of gossip and nagging about the principal and the latest textbook adoption. It's the place that has far too many caloric treats that just ask to be glued to your thighs. And to some of us, it's the wretched place we have to store our lunches.
I was sitting in the TL today as I often do with a book in hand (to avoid the lame chit-chat). One woman starts talking about OB/GYN malpractice and how of all cases against doctors, this field of medicine has the highest rate of claims. I knew that. I have a nurse friend (also a BLM) who deals with these cases as her daily job. It's just not something I liked hearing in the teacher's lounge with so much opinion attached.
One woman mentions that Rhode Island's OB/GYN system is unionized. First of all, don't even get me started on unions. Being a teacher and force-ably made to join a defunct union that just breeds carelessness, mediocrity, and laziness, I do not support them. Anyway, the teacher (being a union member herself) defended this as to say that, "If things go south in the delivery room, parents get all crazy and file claims"-- she even went on to say that her friend (the delivery nurse) has had to deal with 2 claims because of this. Had to? Oh. I. hate.
I hated this conversation for so many reasons. I think bullet points are necessary:
- I don't feel sorry for a nurse having to review a claim because someone possibly lost their child. It's a human life for goodness sakes. Having to take some time to review malpractice when you have better things to do? Two claims in her whole career thus far? That's hardly worth complaining about.
- I was in the room. Every teacher at this school knows I lost my baby quite recently (though IMO, it wouldn't matter if I lost him 50 years ago). While I'd prefer as much normalcy as possible, I don't enjoy hearing conversations about things going south in the delivery room like it's as casual as the weather. Going south is an understatement. Again with that whole human life thing. Perhaps it's easy to say for those who haven't lost a child, but a whole lot more happened in that delivery room than things just going south.
- I don't like reliving the delivery room scene. Okay, I relive it just about daily-- but that's not the point. I didn't need a reminder of my sadness.
- Doctors know that malpractice occurs. They are trained to ensure that they will honestly care for the public to the best of their ability. If they are not doing so, the public who pays heavily for this service (um, have you seen how much it costs to be administered a simple Tylenol in the hospital?!) is entitled to have their case reviewed. Negligent doctors need not be taking care of the public. Nor poor teachers instructing our youth... you get the picture.
- While malpractice occurs and I don't feel that is a concern in our case (reason we did not file a malpractice claim), I don't like how close-to-home this whole topic was. We're educated in our rights, but we're not doctors. Could something have alerted doctors before Andrew passed away? Maybe, but we don't think so. Can we change the fact that Andrew died? Nope.
Before finishing this post, I read a recent message from a friend.