Saturday, July 23, 2011

Just Because...

A Lot of Lies
Author Unknown

My Mom she tells a lot of lies
She never did before
But from now until she dies
She'll tell a whole lot more

Ask my mom how she is
and because she can't explain
She will tell a little lie
because she can't describe the pain

Ask my mom how she is
because she seems to cope so well
she didn't have a choice you see
nor the strength to yell

Ask my mom how she is
she'll say "I'm all right"
If that's the truth, then tell me
WHy does she cry at night

Ask my mom how she is
"I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping."
For God's sake mom, just tell the truth.
Just say your heart is broken

She'll love me all her life
I've loved her all of mine
But if you ask her how she is
She'll lie and say she's fine.

I'm here in Heaven
I can't hug her from here
If she lies to you don't listen
Hug her and hold her near.

On the day we meet again
We'll smile and I'll be bold
and say
You're lucky to get here Mom,
With all the lies you told!

Doesn't that ring so true?  I am fine, most of the time, but I surely have my days.  I miss him.  He's my son, whether he's dead or not, he's MINE.  As much as Aidan, Bekah or Gracie. Oh, what I'd give to hold him one more time, kiss him again, take more pictures. 

After we decided to remove all life support, we spent his remaining days singing to him, telling him stories, telling him about Jesus, and our family, our loved ones who were waiting to meet him in Heaven.  It was dead heat of July, Larry and I sat in his little room on the NICU, singing Christmas carols.  We knew it was the only chance we'd have.  I didn't care who heard me singing in my awful, off key voice.  I didn't care what they thought about hearing Silent Night on Independence day.  I just didn't care about anything but my boy.  We sang him little Sunday School songs, Jesus loves Me, The B-I-B-L-E, Zachaeus,  Amazing Grace.  We sang him old country songs.  Ring of Fire.  Elvira.  White Lightning.    We tried to fit a lifetime of stories and songs into a few days.  I wanted, I deserved, that lifetime with him, but at least I got to sing some of those songs to my littlest son.

So, I titled this "Just because"  and as promised, I have some just because's for you.
I'll start with "Just because my baby died."

Just because my baby died, does not mean yours will if you talk to me.  It isn't catching.  I promise. 

Just because my baby died, doesn't mean that I shouldn't mention something about my pregnancy with him, if the conversation calls for it.  Example :  You "Oh, my back hurts so bad with this pregnancy." 
Me:  "I had terrible back pain with Landon, even worse than with the twins, but I think it was from the bed we were sleeping on."
You: (looking up, down, sideways, anywhere but at me)  "Well, ummm, I guess I'll be going now."

I don't mention that pregnancy to scare anyone. It was a pretty normal pregnancy that went bad at the very, very end.  It wasn't doomed from the start.  An ultrasound or Non Stress test could have caught the problem and saved my boy's life.  It wasn't done because there were no signs pointing to the need.

Which leads me to the next
Just because my baby died, doesn't mean I should sue my doctor, or switch doctors.  I in no way blame Dr. Little.  I was THERE. I heard Landon's heartbeat every single visit.  I saw him measure me, I know there was no need to assume things were less than perfect.  I also know, that for my Rainbow pregnancy, Dr. Little was right on top of everything. I had the very best care anyone could ask for.  Why would I have switched to a doc who had never met me, and may not take my fears as seriously as the one who had been with me all along?     You wouldn't believe the people who seem shocked that I stuck with my own doc. 

Just because my baby died, doesn't mean that I stopped loving him, or that I won't ever mention him.  You don't have to be uncomfortable when you see a picture of him on my wall at home, or on my facebook, or on my blog.  He was pretty.  Why wouldn't I want to show him off?  I can take the other 3 in public, and people can see that they're my kids, and that they're pretty.  The only way anyone would ever know about Landon is if I tell them.  Now, I don't go around showing and telling to random strangers, but if conversation leads to it ("How many kids do you have?")  I absolutely will not exclude him.

Ok..  Next set of Just Because's...
Just because it's been two years.

Just because it's been two years, doesn't mean I'm "over it."  Yeah, I'm happy.  I'm nearly whole again.  I'll never be fully whole.  I just won't.   I worked in nursing homes for a lot of years, and in my mind, my pain compares (figuratively) to a bedsore.  A bedsore will tunnel, and go all the way to the bone.  With proper care,  it'll heal over.  But, under that pink new skin, there's still a hollow tunnel. THAT's how the hole in my heart is.  It's covered over, but underneath, there's still a hollowness.  There's a part of my heart I'll never get back, I sent it to Heaven with my son.  I don't WANT it back, it's his, and I want him to have it. 

Just because it's been two years, doesn't mean that you should refrain from saying his name to me.  I've not forgotten who Landon was, or that Landon's dead.  Saying it to me actually makes me happier,  it tells me that you remember that he lived.  And he was mine.

Just because it's been two years, doesn't mean that I've stopped wondering what he'd be like today.  Would he be silly and goofy,  like Aidan?  Would he be into the same things Aidan was last year?  The truth is, I'll never know.  He wasn't meant to be here two years later.  For whatever reason, his purpose here on Earth was fulfilled a lot sooner than most people's.  I will tell you that he brought a lot of love to a lot of people, and he knocked a whole lot of people down to their knees in prayer.  He surely humbled me.  Oh, how I love that little boy.

And my last just because.
Just because I've had more babies.

Just because I've had more babies, does NOT mean that they've taken his place.  I could have fifteen more babies, and while I'd love each and every one of them with everything in me,  none of those babies would be the one my heart is missing.  It's like Jesus and the lost lamb.  We always want the ones that are missing, for we know the ones we can see are fine. 

Just because Landon died, and I miss him, doesn't mean at all that I'm not grateful for Rebekah and Gracie.  They're my rainbows after the storm.  I love them so, so much.  I thank God daily that they're mine.  I thank THEM daily for being mine. 

Just because I had Aidan here at home when Landon died, doesn't mean that I hurt any less than someone who had watched their first baby die.  I hate most online loss groups for this reason.  They only want to offer support to women who have lost their first baby and never want to try again. If your mom died tomorrow, would it hurt you any less at all, still having a dad?  I doubt it.  Having Aidan, finding joy in him, and now the joy I find in my twins, is completely seperate from the sorrow and grief I feel for losing my Landon. 

Now, I know the tone of this post is sad and nearly bitter.  I really, really am doing much better, but all this stuff I've written, I've needed to get out for quite a while.  It hurts people's feelings if I say it out loud.  And, despite my own hurt feelings, I do my best to avoid hurting others'.  Well, til they push me one time too many, but that's a story for another blog.

One more thing.  Just because I have a dead baby, does NOT mean that I'm not allowed to be upset when one of my living children is sick or hurt.  When the girls were diagnosed with the hip dysplasia, I was devastated. Yeah, I knew they'd live, and their hips could be fixed. But who wants to be told that their newborn has something wrong with her?  Several people looked me square in the face and said, "now, Lori, you KNOW it could be SO much worse."  Yeah, I know. I know exactly how much worse it could be. I've not forgotten that Landon died.  But I also know, that these 2 girls are very much alive, very much here, and could possibly be hurting, or at least uncomfortable.  I'm pretty sure, that as their mother, regardless of whether or not I have a baby who has died,  I am entitled to be a bit upset, scared, worried and sad. 

And on that note, our hip journey is almost over.  Bekah is totally done with her harness, Gracie is wearing hers at night and naps only, weaning out of it over the next 6 weeks!! Yay for that!!

1 comment:

  1. how you explained the pain as a bedsore, I couldn't have explained it better. I love how you sang your precious boy all those songs, so sweet <3 Loved the poem, I might steal it for my blog :)

    You are so strong and to read this is amazing, after what you have been gives me a bit of hope that I can someday be happy and "nearly whole" again too.