In the past I had heard stories of loss and did the typical, gasp, sigh, and "Oh poor them" or "that's terrible". When I had heard stories about child or infant loss I'd usually add the thought or expression of "How did they get through that?" or "How are they even functioning now?". Especially if you can see who the story is about. You might see a woman smiling with her kids, knowing a sad background story of how she lost her spouse suddenly one day. Or parents running errands with their kids, knowing that they had lost a child tragically. They always look normal and you always wonder how they do it. Now I know. I know that they don't even know how they do it. In the last two weeks I've gotten groceries, done homework with the kids and gone to church. I've even cooked a few new tasty recipes. But I don't know how. I don't know where the energy comes from to get out of bed in the morning. I don't know how my clothes match or how I've been able to smile and manage small talk a few times. It's just happened. Somedays I am choking on tears all the way through, forcing the smiles out. Somedays I have moments where I think to myself "I'm ok right this second". Usually the days are followed by sad, lonely nights. I get all the kids to bed and look at the pictures of Wyatt on my night stand and the pain stabs me all over again. My heart feels hollow. It's a pain that I can't describe and I hope that no one else would ever have to feel again. It's empty, like my heart echos. Even if I had more children there would this very silent and still void. I'm not sure if the children feel it. Tyler and I do, and we can confirm it with just a look at one another.
Last night I was talking to my husband about things that have popped into my head during the day. For example, the most recent painful one is remembering giving Wyatt over to the nurses to be taken away. I had handed him to Tyler and Tyler asked if I wanted him back for a moment before he gave him over. I declined at the time, but the other day I panicked. Why didn't I take him back that one last time? Why didn't I tell him I loved him one more time? Or kiss his cheek or rub his soft hair against my cheek one more time? Why would I have said 'no'? The panic grips my heart and then aches as I realize I can't do anything about it. After telling this I then asked him "How are we still alive? How did we go through that and have come out living on the other end?" We both just shook our heads. Surely our hearts should have stopped beating the moment that Wyatt's did. I wish it would have. It only seems natural. How am I here and my son is not? How could I have survived one of those unbearable stories that you only hear about?
It should be noted that things are not great and will never be the same. Before I was in grad school with the three kids at home. Somehow I managed to juggle everything. "there are 24 usuable hours in every day" was my motto. Since Wyatt left us I can't multitask worth a darn. Tyler let me drive down the road to the store the other day. "Where are you going?" he asked on the way home. I had no idea where I was and only realized it when he asked the question. Even after he asked it was difficult to navigate my way back to familiar territory. I didn't know where I was, and honestly I didn't care. At times I have gone to turn the parking break off and turned the blinker on instead. Needless to stay I try and stay home as much as I can. How I ever did homework and took care of the kids I will never know. I'm not sure how I would ever do it again. I literally don't think straight. When I am thinking it's usually about God, and fate, and prayer and why? I don't understand anything anymore. My life has no solid foundation. I have housework to do, birthdays to plan and holidays to prepare for. I have 'thank you' cards still from Wyatt's memorial to be filled out and photo albums to fill of him. It's all happening slowly and in my own time. I hope that doesn't sound selfish but I'm doing all I can.
I miss my boy. I want to hold him again. I want to be with him.
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