Up and Down...Mostly Down

I'm new at this whole sadness thing. I am fortunate enough to never have had to feel a loss of this magnitude before. This was our baby. Even if the only time that we had with him was in my tummy, he was still our baby. We only ever imagined all of the fun things that we would do with him. The headaches that would be caused by having a toddler and a newborn in the house. The mischief that he and Copper would have so much fun causing. We never imagined that we would be burying our baby. On Sunday we planned his funeral. He'll be buried on Friday. This will be the longest week of my like. Last Friday I was consumed with the thought of holding my dead baby. Saturday I was consumed with the thought of planning his funeral. Now I'm consumed with the funeral. There is such finality with being buried. I struggled with that part of my Grandpa's death and funeral. He was going into the ground all by himself. Now my baby boy is going into the ground all by himself. He's not going to live a long and amazing life. His life ended before it really began. He was with us long enough for this loss to be the most painful thing I've ever felt. But it wasn't long enough.

I have moments when I feel okay. I call them my "calm" moments. It's when I'm not consumed with images of him being lowered into a hole. Or hearing the words, "There is no heartbeat." Or remembering the feeling of him sliding from my body knowing that he would not be coming home with us. Or thinking about him alone at the hospital, alone at the mortuary. I have moments when these thoughts do not consume me. But mostly they do.

Today Aubrey and I went to see Hawk at the mortuary and to cover him with my baby blanket. We didn't like the idea that he was all alone and naked without anything personal to keep him company. So instead of covering him in my blanket on Friday, we did it today. He is tucked in nicely under the blanket that my Great Grandma made for me when I was born. The hand embroidered image of a kitten covering his tiny fragile body. It was emotional to see him again, but we both wanted to. Soon all we will be able to see is a small rectangle of freshly filled dirt. I hate the idea of him being alone. It just doesn't seem right. It isn't fair. He should be safe in my tummy, dancing and kicking and thrashing around. He should be waiting until he is ready to be born in August.

I am dreading Friday. But I wonder if after Friday that maybe I'll have more "calm" moments. Actually, every day I wonder if the next day I will have more "calm" moments. So far it hasn't worked that way. Like I said, I'm new at this whole sadness thing. I don't know how it works or how long it will last. It's not something I can check of my list of things to do. When I read Copper stories at night and sing her songs after she's tucked into bed, I do everything in my power to not be consumed by sadness that I cannot and will not ever do this with Hawk. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes the quiver in my voice gets the best of me.

 The blanket that I was tucked into bed with as a baby and carried all over the house as a toddler. It was my constant companion as I sucked my thumb. My mom always kept it clean and I always remember that clean, laundered, fresh smell. Now it will be Hawk's constant companion. There to always keep him warm.