Dwelling on that Night

For some reason, I've been really dwelling on Caleb's medical records. Thinking about what I have read about his autopsy, and wishing I could have somehow fixed him. It talks about what was seen, and says that post op bleeding likely contributed to his death. It hits me hard every time I think about it. There was no preventing it, helping it, or stopping it. He made it through the surgery fantastic, and just like that, he was gone. I read the part about his procedure also. It says things like, he was then weaned from cardiopulmonary bypass without difficulty (After taking him off the heart bypass machine). It also says, he had significant coagulopathy, and a number of sutures were needed to control the small needle hole bleeding. :( But he was brought back up stable.

It's just another part of processing it for me, I guess. When we left the hospital the night of his death, all we took home with us was emptiness, sorries, and no answers. It's not like you get to go back and talk to the surgeons about your baby that didn't make it, and what their thoughts are on why it happened. Caleb's medical records are all I have on giving us answers about his last hours. We took our time on coming back up to his unit after surgery...if we hadn't, we would have seen Caleb go into cardiac arrest. We would have seen them helplessly work on him for 35 minutes, only to not be able to bring him back, and have no reason for his passing.

I'll always remember the smile on the surgeons face when he came in after the surgery...the lady at the desk outside our private room, praying for us...the 1st chaplain we talked with when his surgery started...everything. My heart just aches, and it can never be fixed. Miss you Caleb.

Life after Child Loss

One thing I have learned after losing Caleb, is that my life is different. There is more anxiety. More uncertainty. More fear. I am less certain about things I thought I felt, and am filled with more fear that someone else that is held dear to me, could be gone at any time. Knowing that no day is ever promised is quite scary. But, more the reason to make each one worth it.

Losing my only son was hell. That's really the best way to put it. And it always will be. To lose your child is the worst nightmare anyone can go through. Now that I have had no choice but to crawl through this never ending grief, I know this for a fact:

I can make it through anything.

Whatever happens now, until the day that I die, I can do it. Because there is nothing, nothing worse than burying your child.

So, throw it at me, Life. Bring it on. Because I can do this.

4 Long Months

You celebrated your 4 month birthday in heaven yesterday. I can't imagine how great it must have been! You will always be my 3 day old little boy. It's hard not to think about what you might be like if you were still here with us. Would your 2nd surgery be in the near future? Would you be showing us lots of smiles? I'm certain we would have about a million more pictures of you. :) A part of my heart is with you. I love you so much, and miss you more than I can describe.

A Life Taken Too Soon

Samuel Louis

Since Caleb's death, I have been overcome with gratitude. So many showed their support and love to us, many of them being people I have never met. They are part of our CHD community, knowing all too well the ups and downs of this battle. Our kids battle life, right from the bieginning, fighting their hardest each day just to be here with us. After Caleb passed, I have had this strong want. To reach out to others, keep up with prayer, and let them know they are not alone. To try and give them encouragement...a ray of light...a piece of hope. I started to look for others who are going down this road.

One of the blogs I stumbled upon, was my dear friend Carlen. I began following along with her pregnancy of her much awaited baby boy. As his birth was quickly approaching, I gave her my number, letting her know that she could call or text me anytime. I realized I was just some random person far away, but I felt a connection with her. Knowing that her HLHS journey was just about to begin, and that I know how alone it can feel.

We began texting, and she would send me updates on little Samuel. He was a little chunk like my Caleb. :) And perfect in every way. Before long, he was 9 days old. I was praying nonstop, knowing that surgery would likely be soon. She let me know it would be that day, and I got the prayers rolling in from everyone I knew. My phone was glued to me all night. I wasn't prepared to get the text telling me my biggest fear. Samuel had left this Earth. I bawled. I yelled. I cried and shook my head. I didn't understand. Another life taken too soon. It just doesn't make sense. Just like Caleb being gone.

People will say, "He's in a better place now."... "No longer in pain..." or, one of my favorites, "God must have needed a little angel...."

Umm...NO. I don't agree with that. Why is here not a better place? How do you know he was in pain? Needed an angel? God has angels up there with him. Caleb will be in Heaven as himself, not some flying angel. I know they are trying to lessen the hurt, and not sure what else to say. But those just aren't things to tell a mother that has just lost her baby.

My heart continues to break for all of those that suffer the loss of their baby. I wish my path had crossed with Carlen under different circumstances...but I was given the chance, and blessing, to get to know her, and try to be there on this journey.

Our precious little Boy,

We will always know your face.

In our hearts and stars forever,

You will always have a place. ~Unknown

A Smell so Sweet

The strangest thing happened this afternoon. (And I might sound insane.) While I was laying on my bed, I randomly had the notion to smell my hand. My right hand. I teared up. It was Caleb's smell. His exact smell. It brought me right back to those few days with him. It lingered for a minute,then was gone. Was he there with me for that moment? While he was in the CICU, I always stood to the left of him. He always had his head turned to the right side, so this way I could see all of him. I always used my right hand to touch his soft face, toes, and hands. Boy, do I miss him.

I knew you before I formed you in your mother's womb. Before you were born I set you apart. Jeremiah 1:5

Kailey talks more and more about Caleb as the weeks have passed. She brings him up daily. She will say things like, "I miss brother", "I wish I could hold him", or "He was a chunk." :) She gets that last one from hearing us talk about him. Today, while driving in the car, Elton John's song "Tears in Heaven" came on. When it was over, the radio host said the name of the song and all that stuff that they do. Kailey yells from the backseat, "Hey, Heaven! Just like brother!" She is only 3, and never got to meet him. But she has grasped so much, and he is her brother forever. Miss you sweet boy.

What Next?

I've been thinking about Caleb's blog, and now I wonder. What next? Do I keep it the same? Make it my blog with his story as a part of it? There are no updates to give, prayers to ask for, or new pictures to post of my sweet boy. I love to write, and it's where I can just put down my feelings as the days pass, and as my heart grows heavier. Comment, and let me know what you think. :)

Empty Arms

Today I went up to Caleb's room, and spent some time in there. Looked through, touched, and held things of his that I haven't in awhile.

Caleb's soothie buddy :) It still has the sugar water on it from when he was in the CICU. The hat he wore once he was born. In the ziploc bag, is the blanket they swaddled him in after he passed away. I'm holding onto his sweet smell as long as I can.

Perfect little feet :)

The drawing of Caleb's heart from the doctor right before his surgery. Still hard to believe that his poor heart was broken, when he looked so perfect.

Miss you my little chunk :)