Our Life with Oliver

Today was a hard day. I thought I was getting stronger, getting more comfortable talking about Oliver and how he isn't here. Clearly, I was wrong. A woman I was speaking to on the phone, in another state, that I had never spoken to before, somehow heard from a co-worker that I had just had a baby. She wanted to say congratulations. She was trying to be nice. I feel bad for her. All she had to say was "I heard you just had a baby" and I fell silent. I was caught so off guard. I didn't even answer her. Finally I said "Oh" and she replies, "Did you?", as if I was rude by not answering her or saying thanks. I said "Um yeah I did, thanks, he passed away" At this point, all I want to do is run and throw up. My whole body was in shut down mode. I needed to cry and I needed to be alone. She of course apologized 3 times while we were on the phone. It wasn't her fault. Who told her had a baby? Did she think I was someone else? Was this just an ...

The first and last picture I have of our son. That day, I knew our journey had ended. I knew in my gut that it was time for us to say goodbye. We were finally going to be able to see what this little boy looked like. All of the ultrasounds were so vague, just enough to see movements. The 3D ultrasound wasn't even an option, being that we had no amniotic fluid. One part of me felt cheated, that I could see everyone else have these and I wouldn't be able to. The other part felt excited, that we were going to have a complete surprise and not have any ultrasound pictures to compare him to. Since we couldn't have the 3D with Oliver, we will follow that with our future children. Why? Because, if we do this with the next child, I will forever have a bitter taste that I did it for one child, but not the other. I want to try and have the same keepsakes for each child. I have such a fear that I will not be able to keep his memory alive, that I won't be able to include him ...

Everything would be better if he was here.  It seems like the days are getting longer and the nights are getting harder. All I want is to come home to a growing little boy and to stare at his adorable facial expressions and watch him learn about the world around him. I envy those who get to do that and I feel so wrong to say that. I know God gave us Oliver because he knew we would be strong enough to handle what journey we would have ahead of us. Being strong doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Being strong doesn't mean it gets easier. Being strong doesn't mean that this pain will eventually go away. Being strong was making the decision to carry to term despite the fatal diagnosis we were given by numerous doctors. Being strong meant becoming parents immediately and making decisions for our child before we thought we needed to. We chose to carry Oliver and give him the chance and life he deserved. I can still feel him kicking. I remember that day so vividly when he stoppe...