Not for the Faint of Heart - part 2 of 2

When stage one was over, DH & I cried and held each other after the staff left the room to give us some privacy. The doctor eventually came in and hugged both of us; we were then escorted to labor & delivery. The nurse assigned to us was a lovely, kind and sweet woman. That was helpful. My OB came, inserted tablets around my cervix and so it began. I would keep getting tablets every four hours.

I stayed in bed, ate Jello, ice pops and drank tea. DH was in the room with me; we watched TV, talked, cried, read books and dozed as the cramps started to increase. In late afternoon, DH went outside to call the office (we had told them we were doing testing, then going out to dinner with friends that evening). Marie, my nurse, was seeing other patients. The sun was streaming though the blinds and I had an experience... I felt incredibly, unbelievably... the least alone I have ever felt in my life. I understood, clearly, that no one, ever, is alone. I don't know if it was Ben, I don't know if it was God, but I was grateful for the message. (Raised an Episcopalian, I am not religious, but certainly spiritual). In the midst of all of this horrendous experience, I felt joy and was glad to have reached this understanding. And yes, this was before the morphine.

My water broke around 11:45 p.m. The contractions got worse and more intense; Ben eventually arrived shortly after 1 a.m. We were alone in the room because everyone was attending a patient who was having a complicated delivery. DH and I looked at him, and held him and cried. Shortly after the doctor and nursing staff came in and clamped and cut his tiny cord, cleaned him up and let us hold him for a while. He was so wee, but we could see he was already developing DH's nose. Eventually they took him away to do a more thorough job of cleaning him up. Later I found out they took pictures of him (polaroids and professional), made foot molds, dressed him in a tiny blue kimono and gave him a teddy bear. I was stunned they did all things things for babies born too early. Ours was not a miscarriage, but they treated all of us with dignity and that meant more than these poor words can describe. They brought him back and we spent more time with him, and said goodbye. It was so hard to see this little person who grew inside of me, who we talked to, who we killed (let's not mince words here), and met him only after his death.

I still grieve every day, some days I cry. He will always be a part of our lives, forever. We will always love him. I just wish he hadn't been affected. If he had been okay, he would have been born around mid January this year and I would never have found time to create this blog. Friends and family would tell me constantly how much he looks like his dad.
But I am writing this blog. And I pray that Ben's soul understands and forgives us. I also pray that I can one day forgive myself. One day. But not today.