First of all I would like to thank you for taking the time
to read this post. The following text was taken from a letter I created for family and friends in order to keep them informed of our journey and the daily struggles we faced. The words came from my heart in hopes that others might understand where we were coming from, why we were so devastated, and what they could do in order to support us. Thankfully, we are blessed with a large supportive network of family and friends, though I know that many are not as fortunate. Which brings me back to the reason I have created this blog and decided to publish the inner workings of my mind through this journey of stillbirth. My main purpose in this is to provide support for other parents of loss as well as information to help their support network feel adequately prepared to be there for their loved ones through this tragic journey. As those who have traveled these rough waters know, the worst thing that could be done is have our children's lives ignored or forgotten. Here is a place where we can share our babies and be amongst others who know that we may survive, but we will forever be changed. Here is the story of my son, Carson.
This is a difficult journey to understand for those who
thankfully have not had to endure it, which means that it is not easy to know
how to react, what to do or even what to say. I thought that writing this
letter, explaining what Eric and I have been through and will always go through,
would help ease the anxiety and trepidation for all of you. Also, we have not
had a memorial, so in a way these words are a tribute to our Carson.
Some of you may wonder why Carson’s death is impacting our lives as much
as it is since he left before he was even able to take a breath of air. Let me
tell you, though, losing a child is probably the worst experience anyone will
ever have, no matter how long they blessed this Earth. When you lose a child,
you lose your future, your dreams. Eric and I lost our son. We lost our future.
We lost our dreams.
As many of you know, we waited a long time for Carson. Years were spent
in preparing our lives for a little one: going back to school, acquiring a
rewarding career, and buying a house, we wanted to ensure we were doing
everything right. Once the big decision was made to try, it still was not a
swift road. It took over 15 months before all the stars were aligned and we
were fortunate enough to become pregnant with our son.
Carson
blessed our lives for 23 ½ weeks. These almost six months were not easy. My
energy was spent trying to keep food down and when nothing would stay, I had to
take one of multiple visits to the hospital in order to keep both Carson and
myself alive. I was diagnosed with hyperemesis, which in a nut shell is extreme
morning sickness. Eric had to pick up the slack that my sickness left behind.
It was a taxing journey on us both. By the fifth month things were beginning to
take a turn for the better. I was beginning to gain my weight back and could
keep most of what I ate in. I even was able to return to work.
Right after Christmas we went in for our big ultrasound and
found out we were having a son, our Carson that we had longed dreamed of. We
were so excited! We dreamed of all the adventures we would take him on. We
would wonder how soon we could get him on a pair of skis, a dirt bike, or his
own kayak. Who would he look like the most? Would he be a balanced mixture of
both Eric and I, easy going and assertive, active yet calm, etc. Our excitement
was uncontainable. I would revel in the feeling of him cartwheeling around
inside of me. Carson
was a super active baby. The students in my class were constantly talking about
my baby. Any time an adult that they didn’t know would enter the room, several
of them would rush to tell them I was pregnant. We were surrounded by so many
people that seemed to share our same excitement for such a long awaited gift.
Every time we went in for our appointments the doctor would always
announce how healthy and strong Carson
was. My sickness did not affect him, in fact the probability for having a
miscarriage or still birth drops from 15% to only 3% in women who are diagnosed
with hyperemesis. The big ultrasound we had in early January showed a perfectly
developing little boy. That is why his demise was such a shock to us all. We
didn’t understand what could have gone wrong. Why would his heart have stopped?
How could such a horrible thing happen to us, especially after all we went
through to get this far? I kept asking the doctor to check again, he had to be
wrong! God wouldn’t have taken our son, but nonetheless, Carson’s spirit had left.
The doctor explained that I had to be induced, I had to give
birth to Carson.
We had to endure labor and delivery without being able to take our son home in
the end. It was an agonizing event, as many of you women know, compounded by
the horrific outcome. We hadn’t even gone to birthing classes yet, so there was
much we did not know to expect. Luckily, we were blessed with my mom, Eric’s
sister, Becca, who is a nurse, and the wonderful staff at the hospital to help
us through. Carson
was born at 2:25 A.M. on February 1, 2012. He weighed 1 pound 4 ounces and was
11 inches long. He was tiny and perfect. His fingers were long and palms were
broad. He had pouty lips and Eric’s nose.
When the doctor examined him, he said Carson was perfect. He then saw that Carson’s umbilical cord
had been kinked. Carson
had just moved the wrong way, a little too strongly, and the cord had kinked
cutting off his nutrients. There was nothing we could have done, no way we
could have stopped it from happening or saved him after it did. Please realize,
though, that even with that assurance, we still have trouble not blaming
ourselves.
The most difficult thing we had to do was to let Carson go. We were able
to hold him for a few hours after his birth. His weight on my chest is still a
memory I cling to. We cuddled him, kissed him, touched his perfect little hands
and feet. It was torturous when we had to give him to the nurse. We knew we
would never see him again.
The first few weeks after Carson’s birth, Eric and I were flooded with
love, support, food, phone calls, and any thing else people thought might help
us through. We are so appreciative of everyone who was there for us. Without
all of you I am not sure where we would be right now.
It is difficult to know what to say to someone who has just
lost their child. I never knew before, but as we have gone through this
experience I have found the most comforting thing a person can say and do is
complete honesty. “I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry,” and then give us a hug,
because in all reality what can actually be said about such a devastating
event? It is important also to mention Carson,
he was alive, he was here. Please do not take that away from us.
There are days that Eric and I are making it through okay.
Eric has acquired his electrical contractor’s license and
is staying busy building his business as well as volunteering at our local park to
improve the disc golf course. I was able to return to work six weeks after Carson's birth, and
even though that has been difficult, it has also been good for me, too. There
is something healing about being around children every day. We have even gotten to
the point that we can laugh and have a few hours of fun.
Please, though, remember that every morning it is still
difficult to drag ourselves out of bed and face the day without our son. Carson is always our
first thought and our last. Everything we do, we think of him. Every child we
see reminds us of him. There are times when we are both lost in depression or
anger or consumed by grief. We still need gentleness, we still need support,
and we still need to know that you all care about and remember our Carson. It is important
for us to talk about him. It keeps his spirit alive for us. It is also healing.
We know that many of you have moved on, Carson’s
death may not affect you like it does us, but please realize that this is
something that Eric and I will never move on from. We have to keep living of
course, and we are doing our best at that, but our son’s passing will always
effect us. The pain of losing Carson
will always be with us.
Many of you have told us to keep trying, and God willing,
there will be a time when we will hopefully be blessed with a rainbow baby, but
this baby will never take Carson’s
place. Our rainbow baby will be special and we will treasure him/her more for
what we have been through. It will be a difficult journey though, a time when
we will need even more support and compassion from all of our loved ones. Carson will still be our
first born, we want and we need his memory to be kept alive as that. He will be
the big brother who watches over his little sibling from heaven. He is our
angel baby.
We try to think of all the gifts that Carson left behind in order to comfort us and
lessen the pain. Some days it is easier than others. Losing Carson has made us realize that when tragedy
strikes folks are there for you, friends, family and strangers alike. So we
must continue on and try to be ready for a time when it is us who may be
needed. Carson
also taught us to have appreciation for the little moments in life, for those
tiny seconds or minutes is what life is really made of.
Thank you for reading this post. Thank you for those that have given us love and support. Thank you for keeping Carson’s memory alive.
Carson
left us with broken hearts, but he also left us with gifts. You are one of Carson’s gifts.
