It’s been almost eight months since I’ve seen his face. Eight months since I held his little body in my arms, kissed his sweet cheeks. Eight months since I heard him cry for the only time. It has been the worst eight month of my life. Saying goodbye to my first born son less than 24 hours after I said hello has been, by far, the most heart wrenching, excruciating thing I have ever had to do. Figuring out how to live without him has been impossible. Eight months ago my sweet boy Ryan became an angel after being born with a broken heart. The doctor’s officially diagnosed him with Shone’s Syndrome, only after a cath lab procedure and an open heart surgery at only a few hours old.
I wasn’t expecting him not to live. The doctor’s weren’t expecting him not to live. CHD’s are a mystery. One minute my baby was given a hopeful prognosis, and the next he was gone. How does a mother wrap her head around this sort of tragedy? How are we supposed to breathe, let alone “move on with our lives”? While I always knew it, I learned this past eight months that this life does not stop and wait for you. This life will fly past you.
For a while I welcomed the breeze. I didn’t care how far behind I got- which has never been me. I always enjoyed being several steps ahead. But after my baby went to heaven I couldn’t find any reason good enough to keep moving. I fell into a routine, fooling people around me into thinking I was doing okay. I opened my eyes every morning… then eventually I got out of bed… then took a shower. After my recovery leave- I called it my recovery leave from work because it just seems too cruel to call it a maternity leave- I even added putting some makeup on my face, and making my lunch to my routine. I wasn’t living, I was existing. Floating through this cruel life just hoping to make it to the end of the day so I could crawl back into bed and dream about my sweet boy.
A few weeks ago I received some more life altering news. I found out that I am once again pregnant. A rainbow baby. So many thoughts went through my head has I stared at the “+” on the pregnancy test, then as I stared at the words “pregnant” on 3 other more advanced pregnancy tests. And finally as I stared mindlessly at my doctor as he congratulated me with a fifth pregnancy test and a sonogram confirmation… I AM PREGNANT AGAIN. Is this really what I want? Yes. Am I ready to do this again? Yes. People will judge me for getting pregnant so quickly. I don’t care. There’s a saying I’m sure everyone has come across at some point. The actual words may be different but the message is always the same “Don’t judge another’s journey, until you have walked their path”.
While this new baby brings a completely new wave of fear, it brings a bigger wave of hope.
Hope that THIS time will be different. Hope that at the end of THESE long nine months, I will be rewarded with a baby to bring home. A baby to share my life with. Hope that while this new baby will never replace my sweet Ryan, he or she might start repairing some of the emptiness I feel.
I like having hope. I am more scared then I ever imagined… but I have hope.