web stat counter

I would have never guessed that filling out a survey on my stay in the hospital would be so painful. One of the questions – Did you have enough time to bond with your baby? Yes or No…NO, I DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO BOND WITH MY BABY!!!

I was thinking today about our last day with Uriah. How I wish I could redo that day. Not that I would change much, but I just want to hold him and kiss him again. Looking back I recall holding him and wishing I was alone with him. I’m very thankful for all my family and friends that shared the day with us. It’s just that when so many people are watching you hold your baby for the first and last time you really can’t get all that comfy. I wanted to talk to him but I felt silly talking to him in front of everyone. I told him I loved him but that was all. There were so many things I wanted to share with him, to teach him, to sing to him. I can’t believe I never sang to him. This makes me so sad.

My parents held him. When I first asked them to join us they didn’t want to be in the room. Not long after we had gone to the private room they came knocking on the door. I’m so glad they did…precious memories. Soon it was time to take Uriah off of the respirator. They brought him to me. His breathing was so labored. I instantly remembered being with a friend of mine who had three babies that passed away shortly after birth. One of the hardest things was listening to them gasp for air. I had asked God back then to never let that happen to me. Now here I was faced with that awful sound. I thought my husband probably wanted to hold Uriah, but I couldn’t let him go. I tried to place Uriah on Jesse’s lap while continuing to hold him. After about half an hour I was sure he was gone. You could no longer hear him breathing, but when the doctor checked he still had a heartbeat. Dr. Knee came back about ten minutes later and little Uriah had left us. Although I’m so sad that Uriah never saw us I’m thrilled that the first time he saw anyone it was our Lord and Savior!

Everyone started to trickle out of the room to go home. Jesse and I were finally alone with our son. I can’t speak for Jesse but I didn’t want to ever have to leave. Even though I knew Uriah was no longer with us I didn’t want to let him go. We stayed and held him and talked and laughed and cried for another four hours. When we finally left the hospital I could hardly take the pain. I didn’t want Jesse to see me cry anymore so I held it all in, but it was harder to walk out of the hospital without Uriah than to hear him take his last breath. No mother should have to leave the hospital without her baby.

The pain is lessening but it is still so strong at times I feel it might overtake me. It’s a pain that you can’t describe. I had a woman say to me, shortly after Uriah died, that she knew exactly how I felt. This woman doesn’t have any children. She has no clue how I feel. There are many people that do know how I feel and I hate it for them. I wish now I would have been more caring and thoughtful when friends of mine lost their babies.

Uriah is buried in a cemetery about a quarter of a mile down the road. I don’t believe he can hear me, but every time I pass the cemetery I tell him I love him. Sometimes I’ll say, “What do you think, Oliver?” Oliver is the nickname my dad gave him. While I was pregnant I would ask “Oliver” that very question. Sometimes he would kick as if to answer me. Now there is no kicking…no answer at all. I miss him terribly.