Perspecitve

Tomorrow it will be one year since we lost our little Colin. It will be one year since I didn't get to bring my baby home from the hospital, since I didn't get to have a baby shower with tiny blue clothes, since I didn't get to have my family gather for a baby blessing. Instead I have a tiny head stone in the middle of some beautiful farm land and a scar on my stomach to remind me of my son.

I know that there must be people who wonder how I am doing but don't want to ask for fear of causing more pain so, I though I would tell my friends and family frankly how I have been doing for the last year. I want to do this not because I want pity, in fact pity is something that is hard for me to take, but because I have realized that almost everyone will know someone who has to go through something like this or (heaven forbid) have it happen to themselves.

To give a bit of background, I had bleeding problems the before I even knew I was pregnant and it only got worse from there. In the first four months of pregnancy we thought we had miscarried four different times. As soon as we were given the all clear and were told we were out of danger, my water broke when I was only 16 weeks pregnant. Up till that point I had tried to hold off loving this little being because it hurt so badly. Ironically only after finding out that everything was lost did I open my heart and fall completely in love with my tiny baby. After many tears and as many prayers we decided to continue the pregnancy despite the risks of infection. Despite horrid physical and emotional trauma we made it ten more weeks before I went into labor. The delivery was one from hell. We chose a C-section to give Colin any chance we could. The C-section was an "emergency C-section" done under general anesthetic. I can't even communicate how awful and traumatic that night was. I awoke in a lot of pain, and to have the my husband come in and tell me that our baby boy was alive but was slowly fading.

We had made the choice before that if we should find ourselves in this scenario that we would take him off life support and have our last minutes be peaceful with out machines and tubes. Our wonderful bishop actually worked was a respiratory therapist for the NICU and was there with us. He and my husband have our baby a name and a blessing, laying two fingers each on his little head. Then the bishop detached my tiny, tiny baby from the machines and placed him on my chest. That was the only time I got to see him. He was less than two pounds but was so beautiful in his tiny perfection. He had fingernails and perfectly shaped lips and a wrinkle in his ear just like me and I still marvel at how amazing and wonderful that little body was. After about ten minutes I said goodbye and was wheeled out of the room.

I have had people unknowingly say, "At least you knew so you could be prepared." But there isn't any way you can prepare for something like that. I can't think it is any easier to lose a child after a long fight that it is to loose one suddenly. The pain seems like it is more than you can handle and you pray to just survive one more hour and that the next day might be a little better than the last.

I believe that I cried all day on and off for the first month. After that I would have a few good days and a few bad days and slowly the good days became more and the bad days less. I cried myself to sleep every night for nine months and probably once a week since then. I don't know if the pain has really diminished or if my capacity to handle it has increased. I still think of my baby every day. I think of him when I see a baby boy that would be his age. My arms ache when see newborns in blue blankets. I tear up when I see little brothers dressed in the same outfits as my boys will never be.

But I knew that even in this stage I had a choice. I can see how this kind of grief could end a marriage or rip a family apart. But for us it did the opposite. I found a deeper faith than I ever new existed. I found a more deep, amazing and wonderful love for my husband. And a greater appreciation for my beautiful children. I knew that I could get through this with help from God, family and friends. And somehow I guess I have.

I know I am a different person that I was a year ago and for those changes I am grateful. I think because of the depth of my sorrow I have been able to find even greater amounts of joy. I know that I will see my little son again someday and that he is still very much a part of our family. I believe that real miracles don't always happen as we expect. Instead of looking for miracles when things go wrong maybe we should appreciate the miracle of so many things going right.


For Colin, with a mothers love
10/10/07

Some people sing of angels
But I held one in my hand
He was as pure and clean and beautiful
As only an angle can

I longed to keep him here with me
And though I loved him so
I knew he didn't belong here
So, I let my angel go

Sometimes when my heart is still
I know I miss him most
And I think about the time I had
To hold my angel close

And I know that God must love me
And I know how blessed I am
To not just sing of angels
But to have held one in my hand.

By Jaymie Quigley