The Aftermath of Eli

Unfair is a word that completely understates the experience of losing a child. There is the empty arms, the quiet house, the milk filled breasts, the complete absence of anything baby, the darkened scar and bruises on my body, the distended stomach, swollen eyes and the sense that life has gone on without you. You just don't know when and if you'll be able to rejoin it. The nights have been the hardest. I spent a little over 48 hours in the hospital after my c-section. It was just too difficult, too quiet, too lonely. With Wyatt it was all new, I had no expectations, no memories. With Eli I was haunted by memories of my delivery and stay with Wyatt and then the enormous relief and joy and happy happy hospital stays with each of our girls. Those hospital stays were some of my happiest memories, just me, my husband and a precious little life that we had created. Life could not be more perfect than it was in those moments. And it was those moments that hurt the most. Waking in the middle of the night to an empty hospital room with only the sounds of my husband's breath to keep me company. When the girls were born I would sleep with them snuggled in the crook of my arm at night. We would cuddle and nurse and watch TV. This time my husband had to fill that void until I had calmed down enough to sleep again. I was really unprepared for that. My one comfort in those moments was that I requested the same hospital room that we spent time with our sweet Wyatt so I knew that those other moments did not happen here. I was in a sacred place that held different memories, memories that blended with those I had created in the previous hours and that they somehow belonged together.