When

When do you say, 'okay, no more pain.' Or, 'I'm not going to cry any more.' Stop letting myself hurt. Or, I guess I should say, make myself stop feeling so much pain. When is letting go not forgetting, and when is keeping going not moving on? And on top of all of that, how do you not feel guilty for all of the above?
Because really, to do all of these things, this means (to me) denying Korbin his due respect. I wish we lived back in the day when one wore all black or a black arm band for a set mourning period. It would let me have my bad days without worrying what others must think (isn't she over that yet?) while also making the bold statement that I am not okay yet.
I say I'm okay every day, but really I am trying to not let my heavy heart overwhelm the rest of me. I am devastated still. And lately Korbin's absence is hitting me anew. Completely fresh, a deep wound ripped open again.
I want to be strong, I really do. But there is still so much guilt in trying to push the pain out. I know I can never forget Korbin, or what we had with him. But not feeling the pain is like saying he didn't exist, he didn't happen. And I don't want that. It's not true and it's not my truth.
I can't ignore the pain or sadness, it's still too strong. So maybe I'm just not ready to be the strong okay person yet. I still need to cry and grieve heavily. And through the many tears I still have for Korbin, I know I still got a lotta love to give.

Bah Humbug

Today we went to Frys and as we were walking around, several new families passed by. Strollers full of warm, wrapped up new babies. It hit me hard that I should be pushing a stroller right now too. My mind went into this dual thought process of both trying to imagine how amazing that would be and actually starting to reach out to an imaginary stroller like it was right in front of me. Then I felt suddenly alone and empty. Borderline delusional, right?
The thoughts brought me back to how heavy my heart feels, and I struggled to hold back the tears. Ryan saw my emotional struggle and stopped me to ask what it was, but I shrugged it off, pushed it down to dwell on and think about later. Talking about it out loud is a certain way to bring on the tears. And nobody needs to see that in the middle Christmas shopping at Frys.
And Christmas. Today at work the Christmas music was everywhere except the embryology lab. So I relegated myself to IVF only to escape it as much as possible. I don't want it to be Christmastime already. Another holiday and month passing by in life while I still feel stuck on June 1st. Everyone is excited about this time of year, and we're just coasting along. I kind of feel like Scrooge because all I want to say is 'bah humbug' to everything. I am trying to get myself in the spirit by putting up our decorations, and researching gifts to donate to a new family in need. But it still sucks. The daily tears have come back now. They were getting to be fewer and farther between, but Thanksgiving brought them all back. Part of me wants to warn everyone around me that I'm really not in the holiday mood so don't get into it with me. But I don't want to bring them all down, or have them think they should hush up or hide their excitement around me. Another one of those damned if you do and damned if you don't situations.
So as we enter the holidays, I continue to struggle with my new normal. Dealing with life as it keeps going, with or without us. I am pushing myself to keep going with the hope that I will someday have that stroller to push, and my baby to care for with us and not departed too soon. Because I got a lotta love to give.

Questions

I went for a check-up with my OB last Wednesday and actually had a whole list of questions in mind for her. But first I had to face an overly chatty MA who hadn't even checked my chart before saying, 'You had your baby! She must be so big!' As she continued on to try and guess how old 'she' was, I sat there stunned. Honestly so confused. Finally I stopped her and said, 'He didn't make it.' She paused for a moment to apologize, then went back to her chattering. I honestly don't know what else she said. And it breaks my heart so much to have to correct people that my baby died. It seriously sucks.
Finally Dr. Pray came in. First she thanked me for the card we sent her. I had to let her know how amazing she as been for us, and how much she as taken care of us, not physically but emotionally as well. But that was back in August and I figured it would have been forgotten by now. Doctors have so many patients, I didn't think anything of it after sending it. But having her remember that meant so much. I told her she just did so much for us, and then she replied that she was just there is all. So humble, and that makes me like her even more.
She then asked how I am doing, if I'm doing what I think I need emotionally, and how Ryan and I are faring through all of this. Finally she asked if I had any questions, and I said a lot, to which she replied, 'Oh good!' with a smile. I'm so glad she doesn't make me feel rushed.
I found out my c-section was classic because the lower uterus was not developed yet. So, assuming I get further along in future pregnancies, my next c-section will be in my lower uterus and regular. The risk we face in future pregnancies, on top of already being high risk, is that the placenta could end up within my current c-section scar. It's something that can be found early on, and if that does happen I would have a hysterectomy immediately following birth of that child. Basically the placenta grows into the scar weakening the uterus even further and making it unfit for pregnancy. And, on top of all of this, I'm not even allowed to consider pregnancy for a full nine months from having Korbin. Trying again, and having another child, can soothe one's heart. But future children can never replace the one we've lost, and yet they can fill empty aching arms. All the same, it sucks knowing I shouldn't even be thinking about future pregnancies. Especially when so many around me are pregnant, having their children, or getting pregnant right now. It breaks my heart and it feels like a slap in the face. Like they're all wagging their fingers in my face and saying, 'Hahaha, I can do this and you can't!' It hurts a lot. And yet why should anyone not think about their own family just because I've lost part f mine?
The closest I can come to describing how my heart feels is to compare it to the few times in the far past that I thought I had lost Ryan completely. (No relationship is completely without issues, and thankfully we worked through them.) Thinking he was gone from me forever broke my heart, and is the only thing I can think of that is even remotely close to how my heart aches now. So thank God I do still have Ryan. I don't think I would be surviving like I am if he were gone too. We need each other to get through this as we're suffering the same loss. And it's hitting us extra hard right now because of the holidays. We aren't excited and all in a tither like everyone else is in their happy normal lives. But we have each other, and having Ryan next to me in this reminds me that I got a lotta love to give.

Hey Jealousy

Though I can't remember the words to the song, sometimes I feel like singing it because I can feel so jealous. So many things bring up huge waves of jealousy, of envy. It's all part of my new normal, but that doesn't mean it sucks any less.
Things that have brought out these feelings are the birth of my best friends daughter. I just so wish Korbin had come along with her, instead of so soon. Instead of too soon. My sister having her baby to love and care for and for the family to ooh and ahh over, to say how much they love him. Korbin should be getting that all the time too. A coworker coming back to work from maternity leave, now a working mom balancing everything that is perfect with life. I should be doing that too in another month or so. Noah getting his first Thanksgiving, holidays, Christmas. Korbin should be experiencing that with us, and us with him, too. The holidays are so empty right now. And there is forever a hole in life. Finding out someone I know is pregnant. I have to wait to even think about such possible joy again some day. And even then it won't be so easy to get through.
All these events just seem to amplify my own feelings of how unjust and unfair our life is now. And how bitter I feel because I think it's so unjust and unfair.
I flash between thinking others deserve or don't deserve such amazing things, and whether we deserve or don't deserve such things too. Mostly it's that we deserve to have Korbin. But he's gone. And there are still moments where it dawns on me like it just happened. The thought steals the air from my lungs, stops my heart for a moment, and leaves me in an instant state of despair. I'm still devastated. And I just don't get why us. We may never get why.
Today was our anniversary. Ry and I just spent the day shopping, and being lazy, and just hanging out with each other. Our gifts to each other this year were that there will be hope for good memories in the future. It's kind of all we can give each other now. Hopefully this is the darkest time of our life. I can't imagine anything worse, besides losing each other of course. So, for now and just for each other, we got a lotta love to give.

Thankful

Entering the holiday season has emphasized the hole in my life greatly. Bitterly, I think to myself, 'ya, right, I'm so thankful my baby died earlier this year.' Especially as so many post daily on Facebook the wonderful and good things they are thankful for.
This morning everyone was thankful for their families and friends. So I jokingly posted how thankful I am that Ryan bought me rims at 4:30 this morning while I slept in. It was kind of sarcastic, because really I am bitter and don't immediately recognize any thankfulness for anything in life right now.
But I do have things to be thankful for, and I need to remember these things that I do have:
Ryan, who is still by my side, even through what is hopefully the darkest time in our life together. Thank you God for him and the vows we made five years ago.
My immediate family who is so patient and compassionate with us. They lost Korbin too, a nephew, a grandson. They grieve too.
My close coworkers (friends) and my boss. Who visited, texted, messaged, and listen to me talk about how much stuff sucks still without weird looks or trying to cut me off.
Support group, where I can cry and whine and be bitter with others who get it because they unfortunately are going through this too.
The roof over my head that I can afford.
The too tight waste band of my pants because I can afford to eat so much.
My puppy dogs, who cry with me sometimes, and make laugh till I cry too.
My closest friends, who, like my coworkers, just let me talk and make it easy too.
My job, even if I don't feel the same enthusiasm I used to. It's a career that scientifically is really pretty freaking cool.
Despite my bitterness, I am surrounded by a lot of loving people who keep me going. And thanks to all of them showing me the love that's deep inside, I still got a lotta love to give.

Painful Reminder

Today we received a care package from Similac full of formula for the new mother at our home. It's really not Similac's fault. I threw away the paperwork for removing us from all mailing lists (even those beside pregnancy/baby stuff) thinking that I never really registered for anything like that, so no one should have my info.
But they have it, along with Carter's and Shutterfly and even Gerber. I immediately felt felt a mixture of anger and pain. But quickly switched those emotions to one of compassion, thinking that somebody out there actually does need this. I posted it, asking if anyone needs it or knows someone who does. No one seemed to catch onto my passive-aggressive this sucks that I got this in the mail now attitude, until one friend suggested I donate it in honor of Korbin's memory, despite how awful it must be to receive such a package right now. How beautiful. And I so appreciate her taking note of the pain associated with this.
It feels really good inside to do this, something I haven't felt much lately. So I'm slowly starting to refocus my energy from anger and pain to love and giving. Because I got a lotta love to give.

Shell

I've noticed that for the past month or so, I've been crying much much less than before. It's not the every day, multiple times a day, like it was before. But in place of crying, I've put up a hard shell of anger. It's easier to be angry about something random than it is to explain to someone why what someone said hurts so damn much. It's a protective shell mostly for my heart.
And yet despite the angry shell, my heart is still so heavy with pain and sadness. Sometimes to the point that I think it might just burst. And, as always, the most random thing can trigger the pain and then the anger to cover up the pain. For instance today, one person was complaining about another person who makes really ridiculous mistakes. The kind of mistakes a new pereson who has no idea what they're doing might make, but not someone who's been doing what they've been doing for four or five years. This person is pregnant, and while this other person was saying how stupid the girl in question is, I had to walk away because I about burst into tears thinking to myself, "why the fuck does she get to have her baby and I don't get mine?" A completely selfish thought, out of anger and pain. But I can't help it.
It's moments like these that remind that I do still need to let the pain out and cry. Support group welcomes the tears, and so I kind of save them up for that once a month. But that's definitely not often enough. So I'll make myself feel the pain and remember certain things about Korbin and my pregnancy to get some tears out. Though the pain never actually goes away or lessens, the crying lets me feel at least some relief.
It's times like these that I have to remind myself that, even though I'm angry as hell at the world and anyone who's successful in having their family around me, I'm not really the bitter, angry person that others see on the outside. There is still pain, and there always will be. My heart is just so full. Because I got a lotta love to give.

Money money money

I was just telling a friend that I feel like Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. The part where she pulls wads of cash out of the jacket pockets and complains, crying, that she has all this money but nowhere to spend it. We're not exactly rolling in the dough, but we have made leaps and bounds financially, even this year after losing Korbin. Promotions, raises, paying off debts. Even with continuing to dig ourselves out of the debt hole we were in, paying off large debts, we still have a growing savings for the first time ever. And we don't need to rely on it either. It feels strange, but is a huge weight off of our shoulders.
Part of me feels like, whoopty doo. We're doing great financially but there's no kid to take care of with it. When I was pregnant there were some things I just told myself we'd figure out, but we were unsure how we'd make it work. Like day care, or covering medical insurance. Now we have that all figured out...but we don't need to worry about. It's bittersweet, really. I basically worried for nothing.
But, I guess that means we can do more now than before. Travel more, provide more of the things we want to provide to our future children. Things we wanted to provide to Korbin but were unsure we could at the time. We can also do more for others, something I've always been wanting. It used to be hard to pick which charity we'd support each year as there are so many we feel strongly about. Now we can expand on that, pick more and give more. And that feels good. For instance, since we don't have a baby to buy gifts for, we're going to 'adopt' a child for Christmas this year.
Despite the constant pain, life is moving forward, and upwards in some respects. And with it, we got a lotta love to give.

A Doctors thoughts

A couple weeks ago I was in a retrieval when the doc doing the procedure began explaining to everyone in the room how a parent feels when they lose a child. After she went over the grief and pain of the loss, she described the guilt and strong and overpowering it becomes. At this point I started to think, 'did she forget I was there? Is she totally oblivious to me shaking now, about to burst into tears as she explains away how I feel like she can even attempt to understand?'
Suddenly she just stopped talking. The whole room was quiet. And then she asked how I was doing. I stuttered at first and then just said 'I'm fine' and hoped she didn't see the pain or anger in my face. I assume she wanted to know if I was behind on tubes and left it at that. Did she really care how I was feeling? Did she realize what she was doing and stop herself? Who knows. Sometimes I switch to avoidance with people because it's really not necessary for every person I see to know my pain and I'm dealing with it currently. It's just not worth the battle. And I don't have the energy sometimes either.
It can be so frustrating too when some talk about what I'm going through like they totally get it. But, I have to do my best to refocus my energy, save it up, for those who really genuinely care about me. Though they may (hopefully) never understand fully what I deal with on a daily basis, their patience and continual compassion is amazing. And for them, I got a lotta love to give.

The other room

Preparing for Korbin's arrival we began to clean out the second room so I could make his nursery. Theme picked out, furniture registered for and designed with my dad. The last bit was getting the computer out of there so we could set it up.
Well, we never got to do that. And coming home from the hospital Ry decided I needed to be protected from seeing all of the wonderful baby items we had collected. He had my sister take the furniture to her place for storage and everything else boxed up.
I didn't enter the other room for a while. I couldn't even call it anything. I would choke as I got to the word 'nursery' because we couldn't call it that any more. And that broke my heart.
And so it became the other room. Not the second bedroom, or even the office. Just, the other room.
I read that having all the items gone suddenly is actually worse emotionally. It helps to hold the clothes, sit in the rocking chair. So I've asked my sister for all the furniture back, and the few outfits Ry and I bought are out for whenever I need them.
Maybe someday we'll use the rocking chair and bassinet. Who knows. Until then my focus in life is still my grief from losing Korbin. And for him, I got a lotta love to give.

A Thank You

Upon a coworker's return to work from maternity leave, I felt so suddenly jealous. It's really not a good feeling, especially since she has done nothing wrong towards me. Maybe it's more uber envious, as I don't wish any ill upon her. I just wish I were in her shoes too, with Korbin and Ryan.
Her first day back I couldn't even look at her, or even respond when I think she said hello to me. So not me!! But honestly, I was so afraid of showing even an ounce of pain from my broken heart to everyone in the room.
It just hurts so much knowing she's happy with her beautiful little family, and all I'm doing is missing Korbin and having trouble keeping going with life. I don't get to know the amazing joy of motherhood that she gets to know now.
Today she gave me a card. At first I felt awful thinking that I'd offended her with how I'm acting due to my pain and she was trying to smooth it over. Before opening it I was told she had thought long and hard about giving it to me, and had decided to go ahead with it. It ended up being a thank you card from her baby shower for the gifts I had given her (before we lost Korbin). And tucked inside was a picture of her baby girl. I really was touched, and so grateful that she gave me the option of opening it or whatever else. So many people around me make that decision for me. Not telling me baby stuff, or inviting me to things involving babies. They decide they are protecting me. But it hurts just as much to be left out. (That whole can't win for losing bit again....)
I still had my moment of grief from this card and picture. I tried to cover it up, to walk away from it, but as I was walking back to the lab I just about broke down and could feel how red my face was from almost crying. I wish I could be giving out thank you cards and adorable baby pictures too.
I wish, I wish, I wish. I guess I haven't let go yet. And I'm not sure when I'll be able to.
Because I got a lotta love to give.

Baby showers

Yesterday I was an emotional wreck. I didn't really get what was so big about Sunday, until I double checked some work emails and was reminded of a coworker's baby shower scheduled for today. It was such a huge reminder of what I've missed out on. And of course the coworker is having a boy, and most likely without any issues.
Ya, I'm super jealous. Angry even that the shower was planned for today instead of Friday when I'm not there. That no one asked me if I'd be okay with it. But really, how freaking selfish is that? Why should it matter how I feel? Despite the anger and jealousy, I am glad that she did get her shower. She should, there's absolutely no reason her baby shouldn't be celebrated. I just wish Korbin had been celebrated.
Because now I can't even muster up the courage or the energy to go into Babies R Us to print out the registry we finished setting up for him the day before. I avoid the baby section in other stores like it's going to bite me. The thought that I may never see his registry again cuts me to the core, though. I find myself clinging to the littlest things to remind me of what little we had with Korbin.
So, today, I didn't even try to go or get a gift or anything. I actually was borderline having a panic attack all morning until I knew the shower must be over. I learned my lesson when I went to my friend's blessingway. I thought, 'it's not a traditional shower so I can do this.' Boy was I wrong. But today I actually felt bad as I don't think many people went to the shower. I don't think this coworker really got a celebration like she should have. Before losing Korbin, baby showers were planned and talked about at least a month in advance. I really hope the oversight in her case was not because of me. I don't need that too, more guilt on top of the anger and jealousy and bitterness that already consumes me.
Hopefully this feeling bad is a sign that my current stage of coping with Korbin's death is coming to a close sooner than later. I used to love celebrating babies, holding and playing with them. I hope I can feel that way again, because I got a lotta love to give.

Another dream

Last night, I had kind of restless dream about life with Korbin. This is my third dream of him now since June 1st.
I was taking Korbin to school, and at this particular school I have to be with, and work with, him all the time. This is because he's pretty developmentally disabled from being born so prematurely and suffering through such harsh contractions so early in development. So, he needs a lot of help learning very basic things in life. Essentially I'm left choosing between helping him or working still. I obviously can't do both, but he needs me, so I choose him in the end.
This dream shows two things I'm struggling with currently. One, if he were still here, he would not be the perfect baby boy we had imagined. He would have a lot of developmental issues from his body enduring the contractions for so long. He was so bruised when he was born. So tiny and fragile. And two, will I be able to work still when we have more kids? Before having Korbin, it was clear that I was going to be a working mom. I have always wanted that and really dreamed of nothing else. Now that we've had him, I can think of nothing else but spending every waking moment with our future children. I can't stand the thought of losing precious time with them. I've already lost it all with Korbin. So I am trying to hold on extra tight to whatever time I may have with future children.
Of course, this thought of staying home was never part of Ryan's and my master plan, and the idea not only scares him (financially, I believe, as we're both contributors now but it would all be on him then), but I think he would be jealous too. He feels the same way and doesn't want to lose time with our future children either. But we can't both stay home and not work. And I'm pretty sure I'd be jealous if it were him staying home with them.
We both will need a lot of time with our future kids, because we got a lotta love to give.

So sorry

Today at Costco I saw a mini Mini that's battery powered for kids to drive around. I kind of laughed and pointed at it, asking Ry if that's his next car. He just looked straight ahead and didn't say a word. Totally clueless I said, 'okay, nothing to say to that.' And then he said, 'nope, bad memories. I was looking at those the day before.'
I honestly had no idea that this car had any connection to Korbin for him, or that he'd been looking them up the day before we lost Korbin. I felt awful.
People every day say something that seems harmless and completely unrelated to my baby, but to me it stirs up an incredible emotional response and at times I can't do anything but nod my head because uttering a word will make me cry. But I feel like Ry and I are the ones who really understand what we're going through. We both lost Korbin. And so we should be the last ones to say or do something that elicits such emotion.
I could feel the tears welling up as my heart sank and my stomach ached from what I had done to Ryan. A few minutes later he asked me what was wrong. In the middle of Costco with people hustling and bustling around us, I burst into tears and said that I just feel so bad because I didn't mean to bring up such a memory.
Thankfully, we understand more than anyone else can that we're not trying to hurt each other in these moments. I can remember that, as my mom was getting ready to go home after rushing to my side when we lost Korbin, Ry was trying to console me by reminding me she'd be back at the end of July. I immediately burst into tears reminding him that the trip was meant to be for my baby shower. I could see he felt bad for bringing it up, he didn't mean to bring up such an emotional topic for me.
Sometimes it's like we have to walk on egg shells, not just with each other, but even me with myself. Trying to protect our hearts from any sudden thought or memory that can hurt so much. That can break my heart all over again.
My heart feels so full sometimes I think it might burst. I just have so much love for my baby that I don't get to share with him. I got a lotta love to give.

Password

Sometimes I pick something uber personal, something that nobody knows. When I went back to work, I couldn't for the life of me remember my log in, at least that's what I told Kallie so that I didn't have to use my old password set just before losing Korbin. It had been Korbin's name and due date, something I picked and set out of excitement and the fact that we weren't telling anyone his name until we had him.
So, my first day back at work I couldn't bear to type in something that no one was supposed to know yet, such a painful reminder of what was supposed to be. I have of course now changed it, thinking it would be too painful to try and use again. And yet, having changed it hurts just as much as it means I'm still living through each day without him. Every time I enter it I think of what it should be, essentially making even a completely random password painful each time I use it. Even I can't win for losing. Either it hurts to keep it out and in my face each day or it hurts to change it as it feels like I am trying to not remember.
The silliest, most random little things remind me of Korbin, and that I still got a lotta love to give.

The Stepmom

In high school my friends referred to her as the wicked stepmother, and I was Cinderella. We didn't get along, or agree on anything. I flat out did not like her. And I couldn't stand how constantly mean and bitter she was.
Now we have an awful thing in common and it kind of scares me. While I was brooding over how much I hated her in high school, she endured four miscarriages, and then a loss at 20weeks. The last was I think the hardest because, if I remember correctly, she had to have the fetus removed and was told to forget about it since, per the doctor doing the procedure, she didn't want this baby anyway. Barely over 12years ago this is how women were told to handle such a devastating loss.
So now, I see her in a different light. I understand the bitterness. I'm bitter, and even a bit mean too. Not that I want to hurt anyone around me, but I'm just hurting so damn much it bursts out of me in other negative ways.
This makes me so utterly grateful for what doctors finally know now, that mothers need to see their child, hold him and love him for as long as needed before saying goodbye. They need the time, and to have their grief and loss acknowledged. All things she never had, until now. With support group and online forums and self help books, I'm in a way encouraging her to show her love for her lost little angels. And finally acknowledging the many devastating losses she endured. Like lighting candles on October 15th for the pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day.
Despite being told to just forget about them, I know she never will. They are forever in her heart, just as Korbin is forever in mine now.
I am a bit scared that I will forever be the bitter person I've always seen my stepmom as, but at the same time knowing there are so many more resources for mothers like me helps a little. We have a connection now, and I see her in such a different light now. Losing happiness does this to a person. And, in an extremely unfortunate way, losing my precious Korbin has shown me that, even for my stepmom, I got a lotta love to give.

Exclamation point

Last night at support group, one of the mom's and I were exchanging our contact info when we discovered a silly connection in our grieving processes. She got my info, and then was writing me a text so I would have hers. She looked up at me suddenly while finishing the text with an exclamation point saying, "I remember when I could first use one of these again." I said, "Oh my God, I couldn't use them for the longest time too!"
In emails, responding to texts, or even posting on Facebook, there was no way I was going to use an exclamation point. I mean, I'm still having trouble even feeling a twinge of excitement for anything. And that's exactly what an exclamation point means to me; excitement. I even boycotted smiley faces, which I've used entirely too much of in the past anyway. But again, no excitement, nothing to be all smiley about.
This other mom and I totally felt delighted that the other had boycotted exclamation points. I think I'm so completely alone in how I deal with my emotions, so it's comforting to find when I'm not so alone.
It sucks to make new friends this way, to have such a deep connection with someone because we both lost our sons. But it's so good to find each other. And these connections remind me that I got a lotta love to give.

Struggles

Every month in support group we talk about our current struggles, and things that we're taking issue with right now. There's the blatantly obvious; duh, my baby's dead. But here are all the things that I struggled with emotionally today:
I woke up to another day alone, a childless mother still.
There are many out there who don't recognize that I am a mother. They don't see children, or a child, hanging around, therefore I'm not a mother. That hurts, and really sucks.
I regret not doing the professional photography service. So many missed photos.
I never counted Korbin's fingers, or his toes. And on that note, I never saw his extra thumb. I imagine it was actually quite adorable, and something we could have easily taken care of later in his life.
I wish I'd snuggled with him when I had him. But I felt immobile from the c-section and pain meds, and the shock from knowing we were never bringing him home. Ever.
Although I guess he is at home with us in that we have his ashes now. But what parent truly wants that? And he's up in Heaven, I pray, so is he actually with us?
And why didn't he just breathe? Why weren't his lungs developed enough at 24wks5days yet Donovan's were developed enough at 24wks3days?
What did the perinatologist do wrong when attempting to intubate?
He shouldn't have scared us into the autopsy. He told us something something must be wrong with Korbin, and that's why he didn't survive. We should really get the autopsy to find out what was wrong with him. Well, nothing. He was a perfectly healthy baby boy, even genetically. And he was cut and sawed apart to figure out basically nothing. I hate that. I feel like he was destroyed by that. I blame the perinatologist for that.
And then we burned him and now his ashes sit on our shelf in a beautiful box that Ryan picked out, engraved with Korbin's name. I don't know I can ever let go of it though.
Why didn't we have a service? Oh ya, parents aren't exactly prepared to, one, tell people their baby died after being born, and two, that there's a funeral. Who can plan a baby's funeral anyway?
Why wasn't it Noah instead of Korbin? I would have been such a better parent. Truly terrifyingly terrible to admit, but it's a thought that keeps resurfacing.
I feel really guilty that my dad and Pam didn't get to meet Korbin, and yet my mom saw him the next day in the morgue. I feel awful about that. And I don't know why I was so afraid to have them there, but I seriously was at the time.
I never ever ever wanted to let go of him, to hand over his lifeless body to a stranger who saw him last.
And finally:
He was cold when I first kissed him. No mother wants to think the child they carried and now hold is lifeless in their arms. And here was Korbin, cold from having been gone so long already.
All in one day, and today was a good day. Still filled with anger, bitterness, jealousy, and sadness. I guess in a way it shows I've got a lotta love to give.

Arbitrary dates

There is still so much frustration with some of my closest friends. As I was explaining why trying again is not such an easy decision and why Ry and I each have our own ideas of timing, my friend commented that we had picked such arbitrary dates that really don't mean anything, like June 1st. I almost slapped her. June 1st is not just any other random day to us, it is and always will now be Korbin's birthday. Always. It shocks me that she can say this to me, but she just really doesn't get it.
She then started talking about when she wants to have kids and said she's glad we still want to have kids someday.
Why do I still try? It is borderline maddening to sit through this calmly and not get outwardly upset. But every encounter involves a blow to my heart. They just don't recognize that I am a mother now, that I've had a child.
Part of me wants them to come to support group, but I can't subject the other moms to such hurtful comments and questions.
Now I just need to focus on the new relationships I am making with some of the moms in my group. They are becoming my new friends who I can actually relate to and find comfort in and maybe someday share excitement with. They are kind and compassionate, understanding and sympathetic. And that is what I need now. I'm already hurting constantly, I don't need others to make me feel even worse.
Because despite the pain, I got a lotta love to give.