sweet little boo

Its been 9 whole months since my Drewber died...NINE. I'm not sure why that seems significant to me. I guess its because of the whole pregnant for 9 months thing...well 9 months in most cases. I'm a marathoner. I could have grown another brother or sister by now, but we all know that hasn't happened.

Sweet little boo, I miss you with every breath I take. Thank you for still visiting me every now and again in my dreams. You are all momma ever wanted and I still feel you so strongly. I wish I could hold you and love you and teach you about the world. I wish you could know your cousins who still think about you every day. I don't think they understand how this all could have really happened but they still find ways to make sure you are remembered. I'm so sorry this happened to us...I would do anything, give anything to have stopped it. I'm trying to make sure that I don't become a bitter, sad woman old before her time because of this. I know you would be so sad if I gave in completely to this awful emptiness. I only feel whole again when I am with your daddy in our house, especially in your room. I feel normal there, like I fit. Your room is still peaceful and warm...hopefully I'll be rocking your brother or sister in there one day soon. I love you sweetest boy. Thanks for spending as much time with us as your little body would allow. We are forever thankful for every second. Thank you for teaching me how to be a fighter, how to be strong, how to love, how to grieve, how to have courage. Thank you for making me realize how beautiful your father is straight to his core. Thank you for everything I learned about the world, about myself. You are always with me precious boy.

Love,
Momma

Andrew's Daddy

My sweet strong husband's birthday is today. I'm sure he was somewhat dreading the day...hard to celebrate life when your boy is gone. Austin is a very emotional guy...usually really vocal about how he's feeling and what he's thinking. About everything except for Andrew. He keeps this pretty private. Every now and then, I get a glimpse of his pain and it knocks me to my knees. I know how bad my heart is destroyed and knowing that his is equally destroyed is almost too much to bear. I would give anything to make this go away for us, anything to take away the pain I see in his eyes. I wish that instead of giving him cycling jerseys and cycling bibs, I could be giving him his wiggly son on his birthday morning. I wish that I could stop this god awful wishing.

Thank you sweet husband, on your birthday, for always being patient with me. I know my incessant sadness must be a terrible reminder of how you can't fix this. Thank you for trying to in a million different ways. I couldn't ask for a better other.

a new start?

I'm sweaty...that's cause I've taken up running. I'm not good at it, but give me a bit and I will be. I ran two 5Ks in August and I'm quite proud of myself. This last one was Saturday, for the Forrest Spence Fund in Memphis. The Spence's newborn son Forrest died in LeBonheur a few years back and they created this fund to help with the needs of families like theirs that would come behind them. They create care baskets with everyday items that you might take for granted until you are living out of a backpack with whatever you threw in as you rushed out the door to the NICU. Things that allow you to not really think about anything other than being with your baby. It is a fabulous fund run by genuinely good people who are doing so much to honor sweet Forrest's name. The event was great...Daddy, Austin, and two precious friends ran it with me. My sweet momma, bless her bad knees, was a Ghost runner and official photographer. Corinne couldn't go because she had to stay behind and run the store, but she will surely be there next year. We left Oxford around 5:30 with a sleepy Lu in the backseat tucked in between me and Mimi. Daddy is a super Pop and came in second place in his age group. They guy he beat was named Mark McGuire so we all got a good laugh out of that! All in all, it was a very emotional day. I saw one of the mommas that was in the NICU with Andrew. Her son died a few weeks after my Drew...on his little 3 month birthday after his 8th surgery. Thank God we didn't have to go through that.



I have also started on the fertility train. I have three more pills of prometrium to take before I supposedly will start my period. Then, on day 5, I take Clomid for 5 days. After that, I go in for an ultrasound on day 12 to check everything out. I'm pretty sure this process is how I got pregnant with Drewbie, but I'm not sure. I'm honestly doing everything I should be doing to help my body be able to get pregnant so we'll see. I'm trying to not think about it much, but I dare say I feel a tad hopeful these days. I'll keep you posted.

In other news, I'm famous...check me out!
http://www.facesofloss.com/2010/08/lindsey-mom-to-andrew-edward-mitchell.html#more

what happened

I have no idea why my son died. I'll never know why he died. I tell myself that it was just some lightning strike cord issue...no one's fault, just a freak, random accident. But was it? Did the doctor cut the cord too soon? Doing so can cause massive brain damage in infants, but did that do it? Was it my fault? I go over that question more than any other. What did I do...what did I not do? A mother's very basic job is to ensure the safety of her child...something I couldn't do. I know for a fact that every decision I made was made thinking that I was doing the very best for Andrew. But it could have been wrong. Should we have gone to the hospital on the 1st when I had false labor? Should I have just inherently known something wasn't right? Where was my intuition? If I ever get pregnant again, how am I supposed to trust that I will make the right decisions? I get sick to my stomach thinking of all the times I turned left when I probably should have turned right. I know that thinking these things is pointless...nothing will make it right, nothing will bring my Drew back.

I have come up with a tidy little story that I tell people when they ask what happened. I tell them that there was an apparent cord injury sometime at birth and he suffered massive brain damage as a result that was too severe to overcome. And I guess that's the truth. The unanswered question that remains is what caused it all? It kills me that the only thing I know for certain is that I'll never know for certain. I could very well be the reason my son is dead. Or he could have been harmed by the doctor cutting the cord or by the nurses not responding to my bleeding or by "fill in the blank."

While logically I know that I could be responsible in some way, I also logically know that I cannot hold myself hostage with these thoughts. I love my son more than my own life and know that I could never have knowingly done anything to cause him harm. I just wish I knew what happened and when it happened.

here we are again

Sunday nights used to be my favorite...now I dread them. Austin has pretty much always worked on Sunday nights since he's in the restaurant biz. Years ago, when we first got married, Sunday nights were my guaranteed time to be by myself. Not that I don't enjoy his company...it was just MY time. Now, Sundays have morphed into this uncomfortable void where I realize all that I don't have. What I should be doing at almost 30. I should be getting kids ready for the week...making food, cleaning rooms, keeping our family in order. But I don't have any of that to do. I am just here, just me. Sure, I keep myself busy, getting our laundry done and grocery shopping. But its just for us, no one else. I feel so behind...so left behind.

I'm kicking the idea around of going to see a therapist. I think I need a little help dealing right now. The roller coaster is wearing me down. I do have moments of real happiness (though its happiness-post losing Andrew so its most assuredly a different happiness than before) but I always come crashing down hard on the other end. I get mad that I have to look so hard for contentment among the rubble that is this life we have recreated. I don't know though...what could a therapist help me discover that I haven't already on my own? I don't know how someone who hasn't experienced this void and pain could help me deal. I only mention the therapist because I feel myself getting more bitter and less hopeful with each passing day. I'm uber preoccupied with getting pregnant, but for some reason, I am not doing what Dr. Dulaney told me to do to help the process along. Why the self-sabotage? Anyway, I'm reasonably worried about my sanity enough to at least check out a therapist once my insurance kicks in.

Wow, I know I must sound schizophrenic. Last night, I was happy and hopeful and today I am pissy, weepy and bitter. But, as all of the babylost mommas know, such is life without your kiddo. But, very soon, Austin will be home and things will feel a little more right. We'll watch the end of Harry Potter and fall asleep. And in the morning, I'm sure I'll feel a little better.

one of those days

It's been one of those days...one of those rare days when I feel truly happy. I felt like my boy was looking down on me all day with pride and love for the woman I am trying so hard to be. My parents came up today to ride bikes with Austin and I. I am trying to start riding with Austin. He really loves it and wants me to go with him so we can enjoy it together. He and my Dad rode 40 miles and Momma and I rode 10. We took a much more leisurely route than boys and had such a nice time watching the scenery and talking about sweet Andrew. Its so nice to be able to so freely talk about my son...I felt so connected to him this morning.

I guess the real reason I feel so hopeful today is because I FINALLY started my period. Its really the first since I had Andrew so its definitely a welcome sight. I WORK! It just feels like one step closer to being able to give my Andrew a little brother or sister. Hope is such a foreign emotion to me these days. Most days it is a hard thing to wrap my head around...that good things will happen for us.

So, my sweet boy...your momma is happy tonight. I want you to know that I want to live life as fully as I know how. I may not always do such a fab job at it, but I'm trying. And days like today keep me trucking on along. Night night precious boo. Momma loves.

Andrew's Room

A few days ago I was cleaning the kitchen and I had a really strange desire to go into Andrew's room. I've kept it pretty much the same with a few additions. I added the prayer flag Corinne and the kids made for him on his 6 month birthday. His memory box is on the dresser. His quilt is on the changing table with his "feet" and his birth certificate. Basically the things I love on to make me feel closer to him again. I keep his room open and warm...I usually open his blinds in the morning and close them in the evening. I turn his little lamp on some nights when I want it to feel warmer. Its a peaceful place where I sit and cry for my boy. The other day, I hugged the little quilt my friends and family made for him on my blessingway...I wrapped this same quilt around him when he was dying. I cried all over it, but felt so wonderfully close to him at the same time. I am so thankful that I remembered to have Kent bring it with him to the hospital. I pray that Andrew felt all the love and warmth that went into that quilt just for him. I wonder if I'll ever use the quilt for my other children. Is that strange? Probably so. I went through all of his drawers pulling out the outfits that were sentimental in some way. The first little top I bought him at a garage sale when I still didn't know he was a him. The sweet little gown that Elise wore when she was only a day or so old that she so sweetly passed on to little Andrew. His little swimming trunks he was supposed to wear this weekend. A fully stocked little nursery for a boy who isn't here.

I sat in the glider looking at his scrapbook and cried for a long while. I've been pretty preoccupied with getting or not getting pregnant lately. I started thinking how, even if I do get pregnant again, this will never be okay. I'll always be this sad and empty in the Andrew corner of my heart. Oh, I'm not saying I won't ever be happy, but this part of my life will always be desperately incomplete and sad. I don't know if I'll ever hold another child, even if it's my own, without wondering and missing. I get so angry that THIS is the rest of my life.

Andrew, I miss you kiddo. You are my whole heart and, for that, I am grateful.