I've been thinking about Erik all day.
The tears my husband and I cried when we found out it was our last day with our baby.
The last private moments I shared with my baby still alive inside me.
The way my husband kissed my belly for the last time with Erik still in there.
The and last pleading prayers I prayed for a miracle to happen to save the life of our child.
The way my baby kicked inside my womb not knowing he was going to be born.
The physical pain of labor.
The fear of the unknown.
The moment I felt "Mother Nature" tell my body to push.
The moment I looked down and saw my baby leaving my body, yet still connected.
The way my Dr. softly whispered "It's a boy."
The way my Dr. swaddled our son and carefully placed him on my chest.
The way my son looked, so perfect, so tiny, pink and the most precious angelic face I've ever seen.
Touching his palm as he closed his tiny hand around my finger.
Promising him that we will always love him and will never ever forget him.
The warmth of his skin on mine as he laid on my chest.
Realizing that for the first time in my life, I felt like a mom.
The tears my husband and I cried when we found out it was our last day with our baby.
The last private moments I shared with my baby still alive inside me.
The way my husband kissed my belly for the last time with Erik still in there.
The and last pleading prayers I prayed for a miracle to happen to save the life of our child.
The way my baby kicked inside my womb not knowing he was going to be born.
The physical pain of labor.
The fear of the unknown.
The moment I felt "Mother Nature" tell my body to push.
The moment I looked down and saw my baby leaving my body, yet still connected.
The way my Dr. softly whispered "It's a boy."
The way my Dr. swaddled our son and carefully placed him on my chest.
The way my son looked, so perfect, so tiny, pink and the most precious angelic face I've ever seen.
Touching his palm as he closed his tiny hand around my finger.
Promising him that we will always love him and will never ever forget him.
The warmth of his skin on mine as he laid on my chest.
Realizing that for the first time in my life, I felt like a mom.
The overwhelming rush of love I felt for my son.
Sharing my first and last moments together as a family.
Watching my husband holding and kissing his first born son.
The tears we cried.
Breathing in all that I could, and fearing that I'd forget his beautiful face.
Watching my parents & in-laws meet their grandson for the first and last time.
The feeling of never wanting to let him go.
Seeing the tears in the eyes of the chaplin as he baptized our son.
The moment I said my last good-bye, kissed my last kiss, smelled my last scent of baby, and feeling a huge piece of my heart dying along with my son.
Signing my signature next to the title "mother" on the paper work releasing our son to be taken to a funeral home.
Two days later leaving the hospital with aching empty arms, a lump in my throat, and a white and blue memory box with Erik's angel gown, blanket, baby hat, and footprints in it.
My mind can't forget the details, and my heart still aches like it happened yesterday. A part of me thinks "I should be over this by now" and "just be grateful for the miracle we have growing inside me right now." Well, I am so very grateful. But a stonger part of me feels like I deserve to be weak at least this time of the year. I feel like for the most part I'm strong all year, but once this day rolls around I can't stop the flood of tears. There's no words to express how hard this really is. My husband is being strong for me, but I know he too is dying inside.
Its about time for me to go now... Its 11:35pm and I've got to gather myself.
Heavenly Father, please hold my precious son tonight.
And when the sun rises, kiss his soft cheek and whisper
Happy Birthday.
It's what I'd want to do if he was here with us.
Living moments in our arms, but a lifetime in our hearts.
Erik Michael Gonzales
Born: May 27, 2005 12:09pm
weighing 13.6 ounces, and 10 inches long.
Sharing my first and last moments together as a family.
Watching my husband holding and kissing his first born son.
The tears we cried.
Breathing in all that I could, and fearing that I'd forget his beautiful face.
Watching my parents & in-laws meet their grandson for the first and last time.
The feeling of never wanting to let him go.
Seeing the tears in the eyes of the chaplin as he baptized our son.
The moment I said my last good-bye, kissed my last kiss, smelled my last scent of baby, and feeling a huge piece of my heart dying along with my son.
Signing my signature next to the title "mother" on the paper work releasing our son to be taken to a funeral home.
Two days later leaving the hospital with aching empty arms, a lump in my throat, and a white and blue memory box with Erik's angel gown, blanket, baby hat, and footprints in it.
My mind can't forget the details, and my heart still aches like it happened yesterday. A part of me thinks "I should be over this by now" and "just be grateful for the miracle we have growing inside me right now." Well, I am so very grateful. But a stonger part of me feels like I deserve to be weak at least this time of the year. I feel like for the most part I'm strong all year, but once this day rolls around I can't stop the flood of tears. There's no words to express how hard this really is. My husband is being strong for me, but I know he too is dying inside.
Its about time for me to go now... Its 11:35pm and I've got to gather myself.
Heavenly Father, please hold my precious son tonight.
And when the sun rises, kiss his soft cheek and whisper
Happy Birthday.
It's what I'd want to do if he was here with us.
Living moments in our arms, but a lifetime in our hearts.
Erik Michael Gonzales
Born: May 27, 2005 12:09pm
weighing 13.6 ounces, and 10 inches long.
3 comments:
You are in my thoughts today. Erik was my first waking thought. This is his day. I know that you will get through this. It is okay to feel that you won't and to feel all the pain of this day. You are a great mother, and I can't imagine the pain that you are feeling. My heart is breaking for you. When you see Erik today tell him Aunt Jen says "hi, happy birthday, and I love him"
Happy Birthday little Erik. You are truly an angel.
Jennie...take this day for you.
You have every right to feel as you do this day every single year and please don't ever feel bad about that. Erik was a part of you and will always be a part of you...and his father and new baby brother.
Sending hugs,
Kirsten
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