The Image of 3

I was just writing an email to a fellow BLM and thought about something that I still have a hard time with. Actually it's a wonderful thought, but one that makes me sad knowing we'll never experience that again with our little guy.

When they handed Andrew to me in the hospital, I could not believe that I was physically holding my child. While I "carried" him and was holding him for the previous 9.5 months inside of me, I had not held him in my arms. It's a much different feeling. My baby had weight, mass, volume, everything. He existed and it felt so surreal to be holding something that was both my husband and I in my hands.

He was so light to me, though a normal newborn size of 7lb.6oz. at that stage of gestation (being 9 days early). I dreamt of holding him in my arms for so long. That image is so vivid and so surreal.

For those who commented, I did email someone from NILMDTS about Andrew's photos. I guess I'd just love to see photos of my precious gift again. That single moment of us being together as a family of 3 will never leave my mind (or heart). People who work for that organization are saints. They are such brave and selfless souls to walk into a hospital room, meet with bereaved parents (at times we feel like we have a plague or something because of our new badge of sadness), and photograph deceased babies. It's not exactly an uplifting and happy experience and it's one that is sure to bring sadness to all those around. But as parents to these babies, we are forever grateful for their love and gift of photography. Pictures and memories are truly all we'll have to remember these children we love so much. Our photographer came at 1 a.m. and photographed our baby for free. He donated his time and resources to people he'd never met and will never see again. I am humbled by that blessing.

Missing you today my little love.

Sanity Update

To be honest, the last few days have been really hard. Saturday I had the biggest breakdown since Andrew was born. You just never know the grief train is coming until wham-- it hits you like a brick.

I spent probably a good 3 hours just sobbing on Saturday and my husband was there to witness it all. I looked at pictures of Andrew (I've only done this about 3-4 times since he died) and it made me feel better. I don't know why his pictures don't make me cry. Maybe it's just comforting to see his beautiful face even if I can't touch it. In a way it gives me proof that my grief is purposeful and I deserve to feel like a mom missing her child. We haven't received the photos from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep {professional photos taken by a non profit in the hospital for families of deceased babies/infants} and that makes me a little sad. I guess there is no real purpose of urgency when supplying photos of him, but I want them. I wish someone would call me or send them. I feel strange chasing down pictures of my dead child. And, I don't really even know who I'd call.

I'm really looking forward to our cruise on Friday. I desperately need to get out of the cold. It's not because I dislike the cold, but because I need a new season. I don't want to live in the same season (still winter) I lost my son and feel the same bitter chill I've had the past few months in missing him. I desperately need the newness of spring. I need a change of scenery and time to spend with my husband outside of our house.

On a happier note, Zumba classes start tonight at our local YMCA! I'm pretty excited because I'm taking the class over the next 6 weeks with some of my girlfriends. It's all about being silly and sweating it out. I'm also pretty proud of myself-- I'm down within 1 pound of my pre-pregnancy weight and fitting into more of my clothes. Some of my clothes are lost forever (that's okay), but at least I'm starting to feel better about my body. I've been eating oatmeal every morning, a lean lunch & dinner, and very few sweets/fatty snacks. It's a good feeling.

Hopefully I'll get out of this slump...