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.