Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Hating. Sobbing. Stagnating.

Super depressed. Rehashing and rehashing and reliving everything all over again. Hating that I can't go back. Hating not knowing if I even could have saved him, if the doctors even could have saved him, hating that we never even got a chance to try, hating that we didn't just do a csection at 36 weeks, hating that we didn't KNOW he needed to be out, hating that I tried so hard, prayed every day, and believed I would bring him home...only to lose him. I hate this. I know that of all the tests they run and all the things they look for he only missed a couple of points. But it haunts me every day to not know if that was an indication of something wrong or not. Was he really okay or already compromised?! Were they justified sending me home or should they have known to take him out?!?! I will never know for sure the timeline of events the last week of his life. I will never know WHY he bled out. My placenta did not abrupt. I did not have pre-eclampsia. This is just infuriating. A year out, I'm still infuriated. Devastated. I don't know how to "move forward". Not move on, but move forward. I feel stuck because of all of the unanswered questions in my heart and mind. I feel like I don't even know my own son's story. What kind of closure will I ever get when I don't even understand what happened???


  1. (((hugs))) Totally feel you on this. Too many unknowns to ever feel closure and find some peace. It's maddening.

  2. I just want to send you love. On some level, I really do understand.

  3. I wish I had some words of comfort to type here this morning. I've walked in your shoes so I should know exactly what to say, but there really isn't. Its just such a shitty (pardon my language) situation. There is no escaping what happened to our little ones, no time machine to go back and fix what went wrong (believe me I've prayed for one of those!). So just prayers for you this morning so that you find some smidge of comfort.


  4. Lindsay ~ I feel your pain and I am so incredibly sorry... the questions and the "what if's" are devastating in themselves... so, so hard. Sending you tons of love and strength.


  5. Oh my dear. I'm so very sorry, it is so hard to stop yourself replaying the sequence of events over and over. I still, even now, sometimes catch myself thinking that maybe if only I'd done x instead of y, perhaps she would have lived. If I'd gone to the hospital sooner, if I'd refused to let the doctors stop ventilating her? The questions are endless. It is frustrating and very difficult to stop picking over when you are in a position where it is impossible to know what happened. I'm sorry that you tried so hard and prayed and that you still didn't get to bring your boy home. It's awful. It's sad. And so unfair. xo

  6. I think I know my daughter's story but, in reality, I don't. There are things about what I believe happened that simply don't make sense but, these days, I don't question them too closely. It was the only way I could find a way to move forward.

    I am sorry - I understand how awful it is to birth a child, to lose them and to not even be sure how or why - it's just wrong on every possible level.+