Its Been a Minute...

I have a feeling this is going to become my safe spot for awhile as I think my soul is finally ready to heal. I have pushed the feelings down soo long in an effort to move on and be okay, that they eventually were going to re-surface and now they have. I guess I'm more prepared now to deal with them maybe? I don't know. Yesterday in church, a discussion prompted me to think of Grayson and that whole experience and how grateful I am that my mom insisted she be there with me so I didn't have to suffer alone. I tried to push her away, but she pushed right back and I can't even express how grateful I am for that.

I don't know if any of this will make sense but I need to have an emotional brain dump to get it all out. The people who read this blog all know what I'm going through for the most part, but for any that read who haven't experienced anything like this please excuse the rawness and TMI, but thats exactly what its going to be. So if your not comfortable with that, this may be a post you want to skip.

Yesterday night I just all of a sudden felt soo angry and frustrated. I am soo mad that when the ultrasound tech saw an issue, my doc didn't get me into a specialist sooner because sometime within the week I had the ultrasound then went to the specialist, my son died. I guess he didn't feel it was that important? I don't know. I remember doing alot of research that week and seeing how serious it could be, but hoping that since my doc didn't seem to worried about things that I shouldn't worry about it.
I'm angry that the nurses at the hospital didn't listen to me. I realize I purposely masked my pain, thats my coping method, but I was going through labor. It hurts. No I wasn't in labor with a full term baby, but geez it hurts the same going through the process.  I didn't want an epi, I simply wanted something to help with the pain but I didn't "look like" I was in pain so I didn't need anything. When I said that I felt like I was going to push, I got told the treatment they gave me wouldn't kick in for 12 hours, so I still had a couple hours until it was time. Even though I had the extreme urge to push. I was frustrated that my mom was the only one who believed and listened to me when I told her I couldn't hold back any longer and had to push. She had to frantically run down the hall to get a nurse, because they didn't believe me. And that pinnacle moment, when there should've been the doc and nurses waiting at my bedside to catch my baby, I was completely alone. I couldn't wait any longer, I tried....but couldn't do it. I remember feeling him be born, hearing my mom in the hallway begging someone to come help me. I remember her face when she came in to the room and saw that he was here. I remember her and I being alone for far too long, the only thoughts running through my mind were 'Why isn't anyone here? Why isn't anyone trying to save my son? If they could just try....maybe he could come back to me but no one is coming!" The moment I realized that he was gone, no one was going to help him and I was a failure for not being a better advocate for my son....I felt the deepest sorrow I have ever felt and will probably ever feel. My pain was coming from the depth of my soul and I have no idea how to even describe it, but the pain was unbearable. In that moment I didn't care about being strong anymore, I was in too much pain to be strong and I cried. Wept for my son, wept that no one had tried to save him, wept that he was really gone and would not be coming back. I truly felt him there with me and that was the only thing that gave me hope. I then felt like an idiot and snapped into being strong. Regretfully my version of being strong included pushing everyone, including my son, away and trying to make it go away. That is something I will regret and feel guily for the rest of my life.
On top of losing my son, I also had to endure the extremely painful process of having my doc in essence give me a D/C with his bare hand. Literally. That was more painful than the labor. I could literally feel his hand swiping around in there trying to, what I can only guess, was dettach the placenta. Then grabbing some wierd metal contraption and scraping around up there with that for quite some time in conjunction with his hand. I truly have never felt a pain more severe than that, with the only pain medication in my system being an IBprofen or something to that effect to help with cramps. It was bad enough that I remember him asking the nurse to be prepared to call for an operating room to be prepped if one final thing he tried didn't work. It luckily worked, whatever it was...but not without much pain and feeling rather hurt, both physically and emotionally.
 I have tried for the last couple years to push that all away and justify what happened, but I'm realizing now it was wrong. So very wrong. The nurses failed me and my son that day. They didn't listen to me. My doc failed me, he wasn't there for me. Even after the nurses called, we waited for a VERY long time before he came. It seemed like eternity. The damage was done. My heart was broken, and all I could do was justify why they hadn't been there for me and what I could've done differently. I wish they would've given me a day or two to think about what to do with his body instead of making me decide shortly after I lost him.
The one thing I will never forget is the love and support of my family and some close friends. Truly, I couldn't have made it without them. After all of the pain and heartache, the positive things that happened the next day can overshadow the bad. My family was amazing. I remember my sis in law sitting with me as the men of the family gave Grayson his name and blessing, and her just lettting me cry. Helping me to know that it was okay. My dad and brother for having the strength to hold my lifeless son in their hands so that he could get a name and blessing, and so that I could have the peace of mind that he will be waiting for me when I'm ready to return home to my Heavenly Father. That couldn't have been an easy task, but they were soo full of love for my son. My mom stuck by my side the entire time. She stood by my side and held my hand, helping me to know that it was okay to cry and it was okay to feel that pain instead of trying to make it go away. She helped me feel not soo alone. My family helps me to know that my son was part of their lives as well, counting him as a person and not ignoring that he is part of my life. I would've never thought the littlest act of including him as part of my family when telling people how many grandkids or nieces and nephews they have would be soo comforting to me.
 My wonderful friends gave me the an amazing gift, being able to cherish my son through pictures. Had I been given the option to think about it and decide on my own I would've said no, worrying that it would've been an inconvenience or been silly of me to think about having my dead son photographed. But when I think of him and want to remember him, those pictures are the first things I look at. They also give my sons the chance to know their brother in a way. I will never be able to say thank you enough for them doing that for me. One friend sat by my side in the hospital room to give my mom the opportunity to eat. She was able to just listen, keep my company, and keep me smiling so that my mind was off the events that were about to happen. My friends afterwards who brought dinner afterward for my family (not just me, but my parents too) and those friends who gathered enough money together for me to purchase a necklace with his name and footprints on it so that I could have a piece of him with me always.
In tragedy, there is strength and peace. Thats the biggest lesson I've learned. It's going to take me a very long time to get over the pain of what happened that day. The injustice that was brought upon me by people who were more concerned about the clock and timeframes than about what was happening to me. I'm angry. I'm resentful. I'm sorrowful. But I have a feeling I'm about ready to deal with all those feelings now. And I'm grateful I have a place to write these feelings down and express them here, where no one will judge me or tell me I'm stupid. I have a place with people who have been there and can recognize some of these feelings. Even though everyone's experience is different, the pain of losing a child is the same. I can only hope those loved ones around me can be patient while I finally tredge through this and move on to a happier place.