Sunday - Day 4

4 days. 4 days..From 18 weeks pregnant to 39 days old and gone and everything in between and it's been 4 days. It feels like being 'so strong' has really bit us in the ass, because on the outside it looks like we're fine - but on the inside, its pure devastation that we have no clue what the hell we're supposed to do with.

And maybe you don't see these things from the outside because you're not SUPPOSED to see someone else's worse pain imaginable..but I chose to write about it. We chose to be open, and honest, and give some sort of reason to Kilians timeless existence, so here we are.

We are clearly coasting the 'everyone is an asshole' part of this and feel not an iota of guilt about it. Ok, we both know we do feel bad. But this so hard guys, we're trying our best.

We have one thing holding it together..each other. And that's a scary thought because neither one of us are of sound, right minded people you want steering the ship..but again. Here we are.

I cannot possibly imagine having to go thru this without having Kevin by my side. Or the amazing people that are trying their damndest to help us thru this. Its just, its so hard. We're going to fail in so many instances. We already have. And yet, as we're sitting here feeling bad for having short patience, not wanting to talk to anyone, wanting to just be left alone, and feeling as though we may really drown in all the emotion that comes with loosing your baby.. we get a message. From someone we don't even know, and suddenly it's somehow ok again. If only for a minute.

This woman has been in our shoes. She has experienced the same thing we have, as much as a person could. She stands at the same doors to walk over that same Skywalk. She's taking the elevator up to the same NICU. She's facing similar diagnoses, surgeries, and she too has experienced loss. And the fact that she felt the need to write to us, to share with us her own story, in an offering that felt like "I know nothing can fix you because I personally know, but I'm going to try anyway", makes this all so incredible. She told us she now feels selfish, in thinking she was facing the worst situation - and when she holds her baby she thinks about my longing to hold Kilian. I'm positive she's now holding her baby even tighter. Kilian, even in the midst of her own tragedies, made a positive impact in her life.. I've read her message over and over, and just cry. In sadness, in joy, in feeling like Kilian is the best thing that I ever could have wished for...I wish you all could, in this moment, see the world thru my eyes. Its devastingly beautiful.

*******

I changed the ring tone on my phone. Everytime someone calls, my heart sinks. The sound instantly takes me to the endless phone calls from the hospital. Some were good, a lot were bad. And I really just don't ever want to hear that sound again.

We're still living out of luggage and tote bags, our lives scattered in all directions..home doesn't feel like home - we haven't been there longer than a day in the last month and a half. There is no course to the days. There's no routine. There is no time.. It feels like there's no purpose.

I'm almost done pumping. It was a lot less painful this time around than it was to stop after having Amelia. It's like my body just knows, and while that does make it easier in a technical sence, it piles on another layer of sadness to the whole situation. Another reality of him really being gone.

While we were at the lake yesterday, a girl caught my eye - out to there pregnant. About where I would be now had Kilian not come early. I looked down at my own belly, in realization that its almost all gone. So much of my Kilian is gone.

We sat in a bar, waiting for food..when a girl walked in with a car seat. The most beautiful little baby nestled inside. I had to run out. I couldn't help it, as soon as I saw that baby my eyes welled up, my heart stopped, my throat went tight, and I barely made it out the door before the tears started falling. After pulling it together, I walked back in and sat by Amelia. The baby was now out of her car seat and the dad was carrying her around. Amelia pointed her out..asking me if I saw her, how cute she was, and how much she wished she could hold the baby. Me too monkey, me too.

I held Kilian twice. In 39 days, he was in my arms twice. The first time, he coded. The second, he passed. The longing to hold him will never go away. I can still feel how perfect he fit snuggled into me, and will forever feel resentful for being robbed of all the hours he should have spent with me comforting him, in a way only I could have. I think of all the moms holding their babies right now, exhausted from late nights, spit up in their hair, and wishing their babes would just stop crying and go to sleep. And I remember, I never heard Kilian cry. I would sit in the NICU next to him, listening to all the babies around us, and wish that I could just hear him cry.

I know its been said to you a million times, but please - don't let yourself take a second of your life for granted. When the time is gone, it's gone. No amount of wishing, praying, or begging brings it back. Whatever your situation, someone, somewhere, is wishing they had yours. Never be anything less than completely infatuated with what you have. It takes nothing for it to be no more than a memory.