The Day the World Stood Still

It's been almost 2 weeks since we lost Thomas.    Every day is challenging in it's own way. I wake up most mornings feeling 'normal' but then within minutes it hits me.  

You were pregnant, and now your'e not.

You were supposed to have a baby this week, and now you're not.

You delivered your son at 38 weeks, perfectly healthy but he wasn't breathing.

Each day that passes I am more and more grateful for Ben, because he reminds me of everything in life I still have.  I have been making a practice of getting up each morning and finding at least one thing I'm grateful for.  One huge thing has been Ben, he is so used to my routine so he literally wakes me up at 6am "Mommy, it's time to get up!" On my first day back home, he insisted I get up and workout.  

So I got downstairs, I pressed play and I shuffled.

I am recovering from a c-section so my ability to move is limited as well as my medical restrictions, but I shuffled my feet.  I continue to shuffle each morning.  Sometimes I cry, sometimes I don't, I don't always want to but it helps me.  Having my routine is helping me.




Over the course of my days I have an array of emotions. I will feel sad, uncontrollable sadness and emptiness.   But then I'll feel numb.  As the day goes on I block out what happened, letting myself think it was a dream.  Some parts of the day I still feel Thomas kick, other parts I feel like maybe I was never pregnant.

I am sad to know Thomas was perfectly healthy, that the cord took his life, but also grateful that was healthy because it's proof my body has created two health baby boys.

The first few days my body reminded me constantly, between my milk coming in, my round stomach, the pain from the c-section.  There was no doubt, I had delivered a baby.  But as the pain starts to go down, my stomach is flattening and my hormones re-regulate I question myself.   Is this real?

But then I scroll through photos, I see us in the hospital, I see photos like this from the cemetery.  

It is real.  

It DID happen.

But when I look closer at this photo, I also see Ben, hands full of snacks.   I smile a little inside remembering how during the 20 minute service Ben kept asking me for snacks.   Ben still needs me, and as much as he needs me, I need him too.

Each day that passes, he still talks about his brother. I WANT him to talk about his brother, but his comments both amaze me and make me cry.  For a 3 year old he can be pretty profound.

We had originally gotten him this gift 'from' his brother for the hospital.  I was torn on if I should give it to him still, it would remind me that Thomas was gone.  But then I decided he should still have it and it should still be from Thomas.

After opening it (and excitedly playing!) he said he wanted to thank his Baby Brother.   But how?

He immediately started talking to my stomach.  I told him the baby wasn't there anymore.

Without blinking he replied:

'But his heart his mommy, you have two hearts now.'

The tears came fast, but he was right.  I will forever carry Thomas's heart in mine.

He's also been keeping me on my routine.   In the mornings he asks for banana pancakes after waking me up and reminding me to workout.    I am so grateful for our routine, and that Ben is in tune with it because when I wake up I feel lost, and having that routine grounds me and helps me do something.

One thing I have been most grateful for is my nutrition.    Not to lose weight, but to be able to eat foods that allow me to properly process my emotions.   

The overwhelming out pour of love and support from friends and family has been amazing.   Every other day a new meal appears on our doorstep.    Focusing on eating clean foods has made it so I can give my brain the best chance it has to think through how I feel without muddying it with what I call 'fuzzy' brain.

For the first time in my life my food choices are 100% related to my ability to cope emotionally.  And I think it's working.  Not to keep me from crying, not to make me 'get over it' but to keep me from thinking negatively, from staying in bed, from wanting to give up.

M