From my journal one year ago today:
This morning, I discovered the birthday cake I made to celebrate Baker. Mom had put the two halves in the freezer. I baked it on April 2nd while in labor. He was alive and kicking then. I threw it in the trash and cried.
I miss my baby. I hope that he is happy in heaven. Our minister says that there is no suffering where he is. I hope that Baker knows that he is loved and that we miss him. I hope that his baby spirit will stay with me and help me through this.
He was so active and alive inside me. I wondered for so long what he would look like. When I finally saw him with my eyes, he was dead. So still and lifeless. It was so wrong. My heart is broken. As C. told me yesterday, this is the worst thing that could happen.
I briefly thought about attempting the same chocolate birthday cake for what should have been Baker's first birthday on April 3 of this year. Then I decided to do cupcakes from a box, and even that felt like too much to expect of myself. Maybe some future year, but not this year. So on his birthday, when we stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things before making the trip up to Lazy Cat Farm and I spotted the single blue or pink birthday cupcakes, I knew I had found the perfect solution. Later that night in the dark, Chris and I lit the single candle that came with Baker's blue and white-iced cupcake and whispered a tearful rendition of "Happy Birthday" to our sweet boy. Chris read Baker's favorite book, The Pokey Little Puppy, to our two boys, and we were both mercifully asleep by 11:31 pm, the time that Baker was born without breath.
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12 comments:
*tears*
just lots and lots of tears...
Once again I find myself in tears reading your words. 'Pokey Little Puppy' was my favorite book growing up. I firmly believe that Baker is with you, that he knows how much you love him, and I pray everyday that your little one will arrive safely. Wishing you peace tonight.
Behind your cracked and broken voices, you were not the only ones singing. The rest of us remember, and all of heaven sings.
There is no place so far from you both, that Baker does not know you love him.
Abiding.
I remember that deep fascination, wondering what my precious little baby would look like. Then when the moment finally came, that much longed for and dreamt of moment, she was gone. All too cruel. Your diary entries are taking me right back Dalene....
I so agree with Chris--absolutely, positively the worst thing that could happen.
Congrats on 3rd trimester. I know our experiences weren't the same, but I can tell you that as I got closer to the end, I got more and more anxious. I will be thinking of you.
Thank you for sharing where you were and where you are. Thinking of you and sending love.
thank you for sharing your journals. its just all heartbreaking. glad to hear all is going well with baker's bro. if you go over to Inanna's (who posted here) blog, she posted an article about how our baby's dna stays with us and gets mixed with our own and our other children's dna. its a beautiful thought for me, i need it to get through this daily.
sending you love xo
It's so hard sometimes to go back and read our words from the 'early days' Baker knows how much you love and miss him, I just know it!
I have no words, just tears.
I love that you are able to remember together and grieve together. What a beautiful way to celebrate his all too short life.
xxoo
When you were a little girl your favorite book was THE THREE LITTLE KITTENS. I could turn the pages and you could read them yourself. I wished I could have read it to Baker. I started crying when Mother said "Happy birthday little guy". I pray every day for you, Chris, and Baker's brother.
With love
Dad
I, too, remember all those months and weeks before wondering and imagining what my baby would look like. My very own child, my first, the innocence and awe of a first-time mother. And to have that moment taken away from us, marred, distorted. I'm still so angry at the cruelty of it.
And I have to admit, no matter what the outcome this time around, I'm so frightened of both reliving that moment and experiencing it anew, bittersweet.
I hope you feel your boy with you every time you read stories aloud; I hope he's there listening.
Sending hugs...
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