Later that morning after waking up and having a small bite. The doctor came to see me and checked on me, when she was done she told me I would be released before noon. I was placed under strict bedrest for a week, until my follow up appointment. She prescribed several medecines, including one to help me sleep and gave me paperwork to give to my employer. I was down to about 30-45 minutes left where I could physically touch my beloved child. I held him, retraced his little body with my finger, and prayed while I held him. I tried memorizing everything about him. Lastly, I got dressed and my husband packed the few items we had with us. The last minutes at tha hospital I spent them sitting at the edge of the bed watching my husband hold our baby one last time. The nurse, walked in and informed us it was time to go. She would get a wheel chair for me and then take the baby.
My husband placed the baby in my hands one last time. I didn't want to part with him, and I certainly had no idea "how" I was suppose to walk away or leave my child behind. Knowing, I would walk out of the hospital empty handed was heart wrenching. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. As I saw the door opening once again, tears welled up in my eyes, I knew the time had come. I saw the nurse enter the room and walk over towards me, I thought to myself, I can't say goodbye, it doesn't feel right, so instead I whispered "I love you baby boy, I will miss you until the day I die" and then I managed to hand him over to the nurse. She walked out of the room with him and as she left I cried and told my husband I wanted his yellow cloth. (What I really wanted to do was to run after her, but I knew I couldn't). When my nurse walked back in, my husband explained that I really wanted the cloth and asked if I could have it, she said "ofcourse" went back and got it for me.
So there it was, as I was being rolled out of the room in my wheelchair, there were no smiles or words of celebration from the hospital staff, there was no diaper bag to carry, nor no car seat to check. There was no baby in my arms to take home, there was only tears, pain and a tiny yellow hand towel that had served as his blanket. I looked at the hand towel and traced the stains that were evidence of where my son once laid. I folded it and tenderly carried in my hand. With my heart in my throat I uttered "we can go."
As we exited my room and was taken down the hallway I saw two people entering the labor and delivery section with full smiles and excitement in their eyes, surely there was a baby for them to see. Out in the waiting area, I quickly observed through the glass window, the people that sat and waited. As the doors opened for us to go through, they looked up with anticipation, perhaps awating news of their loved ones. As for me, I simply looked down, not being able to bear their looks. Surely they noticed we did not carry a baby. Surely they noticed my eyes swollen and tired from the night's event. It was enough to cause me, to want to jump out of the chair and run.
Downstairs my husband brought the car around and helped me get into the car. As we drove off, and left the hospital I cried and cried. I noticed my husband was also crying. There were no words needed to explain what we were both feeling. It was the worst car ride ever. One that we knew was simply too painful to even try and speak of. The silence left us with nothing less than the void we felt and the heartache that had overtaken us.
My husband and I have been through hell and back. But I am pretty sure neither one of us imagined we would ever have to go through something like this. My husband was a rock the whole time. I saw a side of stregth in him I never knew he had. He knew and recognized I was barely functional physically, emotionally or mentally and he took care of everything.
We recently stopped at that same hospital to take our oldest daughter for an leg injury she caused to herself and we both had to take a moment to catch our breath. Walking out of the hospital empty handed was extremely difficult for both of us. My heart goes out to every woman that has lost a child in one way or the other. I pray that God will give you peace and strength and I pray that day by day you find yourself a little better a little stronger. I pray that you find hope and rest in Him. It's a journey lived day by day, one day at a time.
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