My last appointment before my c-section was today at 10:15. Last week when I made the appointment I would have never imagined I'd be at a funeral home instead.
It's hard to look down and not see my big pregnant belly. It wouldn't be so hard if I at least had my little angel to hold, but the cold, harsh truth is you're gone.
I keep going back to Wednesday night, when I was sitting on the couch, watching my belly wiggle into all sorts of odd shapes. Daddy had his hands on my bump and he was telling me how excited he was about getting to hold you soon. I could see the excitement in his eyes. And your brothers.....wow....they were counting down the days on the calendar. They were anxiously awaiting your arrival as well.
Thursday morning is such a blur. My back started hurting around 5a.m. I didn't think much of it because I was no stranger to aches and pains by this point. But this time it didn't get any better. It only started to get worse. I woke up daddy, called grandma and got ready to go to the hospital. I quickly threw a few things into the diaper bag daddy got us for Valentine's day, including a little pair of yellow duckie pajamas and we took off to the hospital. The pain was becoming more and more intense, and by this time I had realized you hadn't moved much since late Wednesday night. I started to pray for some movement, but it was hard to concentrate with the contractions getting stronger and stronger.
The second that nurse put the doppler on me and couldn't find a heartbeat- I knew. Finding it had never been a challenge and I knew you were gone. They quickly brought an ultrasound monitor and gave eachother strange looks. They were trying not to worry me, but I already knew.
They immediately prepared me for a c-section. Daddy sobbed as they pulled you out with your cord around your neck. I've never heard him cry like that. They put your little head by mine and let me kiss you. Your face still warm from my womb. You were so handsome.
I can't believe you're gone. I miss your kicks and flips inside me. Your things are in boxes in the corner of my closet. Grandma packed them away for me because she knew I wouldn't be able to stand the sight of them.
Right now, I'm angry. Angry that I never got to see your eyes. Angry that I never got to hear you cry. Angry that I have staples across my abdomen, but no baby to hold. Angry that you're gone.
I miss you. I hate that I had to sign your tiny body away to a funeral home today. Today, when I should have been making the last minute preparations for your arrival.
It hurts to say your name. It hurts to have to explain to your brothers that you're in heaven. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to want to hold you so badly. I feel so empty. My sight is clouded by tears 90% of the day. Your brothers know I'm hurting for you.
I love you Ian Daniel. I hope you know that. Daddy loves you too. We found out you were on your way at a very strange time in our lives. I was beyond shocked when I found out you were coming, but you brought me peace and joy.
My heart aches for you, my sweet baby. Even when I find a moment of peace, my heart throbs with pain. I don't know how I'm going to get through this, but I promise you, your short life will not be in vain. You have changed who I am forever. I will never be the same.
I love you.
See you in my dreams tonight my precious little piece of heaven.