This has been heavy on my mind lately, so I felt I must share in hopes that it can help anyone who has had a loss.
In December 2011, my husband and I were expecting our first child. A boy, who we named Aaron. Three weeks before his due date, I had a day where I didn't feel him move. I thought maybe he moved a little... I could wait, I was sure it was nothing. After a very restless night, my husband took me to the hospital the next morning. Sure enough, the nurse couldn't find his heartbeat. She got the doctor to tell us the bad news. There was no obvious sign of what caused Aaron's heart to stop, but we were told we would learn more after he was delivered.
The thought of delivering a dead baby completely sickened me. I wasn't sure I would even be able to look at him.
We called our family and spent the day praying and comforting one another.
Shortly after 1 am, Aaron was born. So many tears. Tears of sorrow, tears of wonder, tears of pain, and even tears of joy. I held him on my chest and could not get over how amazing he was. This amazing little body, with tiny fingers and toes. All of those fears from before, washed away. Looking back, I can't imagine not seeing him. The pictures we have of him are one of my most prized possessions.
The umbilical cord suggested it became kinked somehow and no oxygen was able to get though. His body was perfect. We spent 10 hours with his body and then it was time to let him go. I gave him to the woman from the mortuary and watched them walk out the door. I even went to the window and saw them drive away.
And then I was empty.
We went home and as if my body hadn't gone through enough just having a baby, mentally and emotionally I was exhausted. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to have to explain.
The day of the funeral, I didn't want to go. The only thing that got me there was knowing I could hold Aaron one last time. Though necessary and worth it, it reopened the not even close to healing wounds.
I knew I had two options, and they were blame God, or let this bring me closer to Him. I chose the latter. It definitely hasn't been easy. I don't understand why this happened, but I have learned to trust in Heavenly Father. I know if I allow Him, He will take care of me.
It has been 2 and a half years. Forever and a blink of the eye, all at the same time. Since then, I have had another son. I was terrified of forgetting Aaron after his brother was born, but that's not the case at all. We talk about Aaron and visit his grave. We know he is watching out for us and aren't ashamed to tell anyone who wants to hear.
I've been asked a lot recently how I got over losing Aaron, and my response has been, I will never get over losing him. As time passes I find joy in life again. I thought my life was over. Now, I've learned that although a piece of my heart will always be missing, it can still be full. Its more like, I've reserved a spot that is very tender, but love can still fill and flourish around it. I won't ever be "back to myself" because I have been completely changed. I cherish the small things and am grateful to get through each day.
