Keeping All Your Memory With Me

Why is it when I feel sad my heart goes to you? Why does my heart feel heavy and yet light when I think of you? I think I’m letting go of this pain but then I realize it’s not gone, it’s hidden under layers of happiness and determination. It never went away and it never will.

I suppose that is fine, that it won’t go away. It reminds me you were real and not some past dream. That I actually held you in my arms and watched you breath, felt that heaviness against my arms and the warmth. But… I will never hold you again. And it hurts over and over again. They say God took you for a good reason and I try to believe it but that missing piece in my heart says otherwise. I stay strong most of the time but from time to time I’ll hear a song or see an emotional video or action and I feel the tears coming.

I can’t believe it has been three years when it feels like just last week I was sitting at your memorial. Just a few months ago that I felt you kicking my stomach and how strong you felt to me. How much hope I had that you would be that rare percentage that would survive.

I can’t let go of this pain when I think of you because it reminds me you were real and not a distance dream. It reminds me that I had a son who I made the decision to keep despite the doctors reactions. I’ll keep the sadness inside me but also the joy of you. I’ll keep every part of your memory with me, despite the way I feel at times because you are my  baby boy. My son who, despite the odds, came to life and I got to hold if only for a little. I’ll keep all the memory because it is mine and yours, every bit will be precious. I’ll keep everything.

My heart goes to you when I feel even a little bit sad because you are my baby boy, my son, who passed away in my arms three short years ago. My heart feels heavy because your memory tugs at the empty piece inside me. My heart feels light because your memory fills the emptiness within me.

I love you my precious baby boy Wyatt, my little angel.

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Untold Story: The Hours After Wyatt’s Birth

It has been two and a half years since our dear boy Wyatt passed away. It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I had held him in my arms and watched my mom and dad do the same, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law as well. My fiance held him close, with a smile of what seemed like joy but sadness.

I remember those hours well.

With little but a wink of sleep under my belt because I just didn’t want to fall asleep, labor set in. Perhaps unconsciously I was feeling if I did things would come too quickly, Wyatt would come and he could pass away. I was afraid of that time. I didn’t want to be alone either. I was afraid. I didn’t fall asleep like most people had suggested to me. I wish I had fallen asleep well before I felt that pressure between my legs. I was terribly tired when Wyatt came into this world.

My eyes could barely hold open at times and I knew time was fading for him and I kicked myself for not having more sleep. I held in my arms, he felt heavy and didn’t seem sick but besides that I was afraid to kiss him. Afraid it would hurt him somehow. There is so much in this world I would give to have given him so many kisses and told him a thousand times how much I loved him so he could hear me. Although, I’m sure, he heard it over and over when I told him in my tummy. I remember seeing him blue when he first came out but he seemed to get back color. I had hope at that time.

He was passed around to the visiting family members, one by one they gave him kisses and hugs and whispered to him. At some point he started to make a sound like he was trying to breathe on his own and there was more hope in me that perhaps he would be that miracle to survive. When my dad held him it seemed he tried even harder. We all saw that.

I remember when the nurses asked if we wanted them to take him away to bathe him but I didn’t want him to leave. What if he passed away during that time? I wanted to spend every minute, every second with him. I wanted him around the people that loved him the most. Sometimes I wish they had bathed him. He wouldn’t be a chalky white in the pictures. We would see how his skin color was underneath that all.

About three hours after he was born he passed away in someone’s arms. I’m not hundred percent in who’s arms. He stopped making those sounds. The doctor came in and checked him and announced he did pass away. They asked if they wanted them to take him away but we opted for more time with him.

Yes, his soul had passed on but I don’t think any of us was ready just yet to let him go. So, my fiance and mother-in-law changed him into a onsie we had brought with us and then bundled him up in a blanket his Nana (mother-in-law of mine) made him. Cigarette breaks were had and my dad stayed with me and Wyatt. I held Wyatt but I noticed I couldn’t hold him for too long because I knew he had passed away but yet… he seemed like he was only sleeping.

Later, the nurses asked if we wanted pictures taken of him at no charge of course. We agreed and they carefully took him away to take pictures of him. I did wish we did the pictures before… he had passed but I don’t think I would be able to let him go even if they did bring that option up. They even cut a lock of his hair for us and put it into a baggy, unfortunately that little snip of hair has spread out so it no longer looks like a lock of hair but just a few strands. It was in a bag with tiny holes, so perhaps that is why. I remember what his hair looked like though… it was a strawberry brownish color. Definitely more reddish than his sister (though hers was just brown not red at all). I’ve always wondered how it would turn out in the end if he had… grown up more.

Eventually, it was time to let him go. We signed some forms to release him and to our surprise the people that took him held him in their arms walking out. We thought they would bring in a bed they have for the infants, not walk with him in their arms. I was thankful for that. My dad followed them out.

It was done. He was gone. I was moved to a different room and the nurses put a rose on our door to indicate we had lost our child (after they asked us, of course). This was so people wouldn’t ask how our baby was doing or come in too often, I suppose. I was thankful for that. The staff were very gracious and helpful. During the process where they took pictures they also did hand prints. He had an extra finger off to the side, you could see it in there but we were OK with that. That was him. That was our baby boy, Wyatt’s hand prints.

Even after all this time, I still sit and cry for him. I miss him. I wish so many things. I’m sure well into the future I will still do this. He is a part of my heart that is missing and that will never change.

Thank you for reading my story and if you are someone who had lost a child of your own, keep strong. The only reason I kept so strong in the beginning (and now) is mostly because of my daughter Neveah, she needed me still. It was also due to the remarkable support I was given from friends, family and even acquaintances.

The Feeling of Being a Parent

It seems I only find the time to write on here either during work breaks or late at night, when I should be in bed with my boyfriend trying to fall asleep – like now. It’s late at night. I tried doing an entry last weekend, during a work break, but ended up accidently deleting such post and gave up on trying to re-do it lol. But it still published onto my Facebook and showed the first paragraph. So, there, I guess, done. Anyway…

I just put my daughter to sleep. She still ended up crying a little after I left the room. She has been doing that more often. I try to put her to sleep, she looks deep asleep, I leave the room (closing the door quietly) and then I hear her cry. I leave her be for a little to see if she’ll just fall back to asleep, usually she does so after a few minutes or so. Guiltily, I have not been keeping to her routine of getting ready for bed around eight. You see, my boyfriend and I watch these shows together and they keep playing and I forget about the time or say “just one more and I’ll put her to sleep” and one becomes a few. I’ve been trying to get back on track because I realize that a routine for her is a good thing. I just wish I could actually get up earlier, because she seems to get up earlier than I and just sits in her play pen (her bed) and plays with the stuff animals that are there with her. Lucky me. If she just cried, I would be forced to end my in and out sleep. She sometimes can be heard awake six o’clock in the morning. Eep.

So, tonight I sat on that tiger stool I use (as uncomfortable as it can be) with her butterfly night light displaying red stars and the occasionally moon on the ceiling and watched her sleep. I stroked her hair gently and all the love and care I have for her came to me. I’m not sure how to explain it but I am going to try. This feeling of knowing I love her unconditionally and so much that I would sacrifice myself for her in a heartbeat, no questions asked and no regrets at all… it is just a different kind of love than any other. She happens to be my heart, if that makes sense. I would like to think any other parent would understand, lol. It is such a strong emotion when I think about it that it almost made me shed a few tears. I love her so much. You don’t quite understand what it feels like to be a parent, no amount of explaining will do, until you are one. That is the truth, whether a repeated one or not.

Of course, I love my son just as much. I find it hard to explain it. He is not here. People can say he is in my heart or in the Heavens but the thing is that he is not here physically. I cannot hold him or kiss him. I find it hard to say and I don’t want anyone to misunderstand me when I say this but sometimes it hurts to think of how much I love him. I do. I love him so much, just as much as Neveah but unlike Neveah that love and care that I want to give him, show him, I cannot. I can’t hold him anymore and tell him how much I love him and how handsome he is or cuddle him. And it hurts.

Sometimes I’m taken by surprise how much it still hurts to feel the loss of my son. I guess I shouldn’t be. I know it’ll never really go away, the pain of losing him. I know that without Neveah I would be an utter mess. I’m sure of it. I would break down more often and I don’t think I’d be able to understand how to deal with the pain. I’m still not even sure how to deal with it, to be honest. But with Neveah, I feel I have to be strong for her and along with that for my boyfriend.

But to that feeling of being a parent… it is really indescribable. No matter how much I describe it it won’t do the feeling justice. I love my children so much, it’s a feeling in my chest like no other and it puts a smile on my face, also frown marks lol but it is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Always On My Mind

Charles and I looking over our baby boy Wyatt

Charles and I looking over our baby boy Wyatt

I have a Pinterest account. I really adore Pinterest. I have a board that is called “Mommy’s Angel” and that is where I put all the pins that is related to child loss and Wyatt. Yesterday, I got really into just looking for things as such, stumbling upon some wonderful things that I could relate to. But it got me thinking, of course, about Wyatt. My baby boy that I only got to see for three hours. I was also extremely tired during those three hours from labor and not sleeping well. I got induced a month earlier than my due date because I had preeclampsia. He was a big boy. Weighing a little more than seven pounds.

Our miracle baby, he was. Doctors said that most babies die in the womb. Not only that, most babies with Trisomy 13 have physical defects such as a cleft lip, extra fingers, small head, etc. Our baby boy seemed to have a cleft lip that was forming (or was healing it self) and an extra finger. On top of his head there seemed to be a wound, but was probably that his skin on his scalp didn’t fully grow. He had a smaller than normal cerebellum and a rare heart defect. In the end, the reason why he did not live longer was not the heart defect but that his body did not know how to continue breathing on his own. Before he was even born, we had discussed with many doctors the many defects and complications that can occur. Even so, despite knowing all of this, we had this hope that he would still survive yet. Which he did, for a few hours.

There are so many things I wish I did when he was still with us, like sing to him for example. I always planned on singing to him with him in my arms, but I always imagined we’d be in his bedroom or my bedroom in my arms as I sung him to sleep. I also wished I held him a little bit more, told him I loved him out loud a hundred times over and kissed his face. I didn’t sing to him, because I was too embarrassed too. I didn’t kiss him a hundred times over, because I was… afraid perhaps. Afraid somehow I could hurt him.

Despite the smiles and laughs I give, and the outlook of I’m totally fine I still hurt when I think of him. I feel happiness and sadness at the same time. I miss my baby boy so much. I don’t want others to feel uncomfortable so I don’t talk about him as much as I want to, but I refuse to not mention him when people ask about my children. He is my child. He grew inside of him, I felt him move and then saw him breathe. I don’t just have a daughter who is here with me, I also have a son who passed away but will still forever be in my heart.

I miss you my son, I love you so much. You were taken away too soon. ❤