Our 7 Year-Old's Christmas Wish

This morning started out like every other school morning. Lots of me barking out orders of what the boys need to do to get ready for school, hurriedly rushing out the door--all of us talking at once--boys typically fighting for one reason or another. Not a good feeling to start the day. Then something was said that changed my whole mood. To explain, I have to tell the very sad backstory from 8 years ago. TMS, if you're reading this at work, I'd advise you to stop now and read it when you're at home.

When our older son was just 6 months old, I found out TMS and I were expecting another child. Initially, I had mixed emotions. We had both wanted another child right away, but this soon? I wasn't sure we timed it well.

In contrast to my first pregnancy, I never felt good during this one. I had gained quite a bit of weight with my first pregnancy and, unlike the Hollywood stars who take it off within 2 months, I was still carrying around much of it. When I was around 4 months along, I began to anticipate the first fluttering of kicks inside me. I knew it was early but I knew what it felt like now and I was anxious to begin all that excitement and anticipation of feeling a pregnancy. Night after night, I would lay with my hands on my abdomen and wonder why I couldn't feel anything yet. Was it too early? Was it that I had more "cushion" around my mid-section this time? By 20 weeks, I was internally concerned but not voicing much of my worry. The morning of my 20-week ultrasound, I dropped our son off at my sister's house and said to her, "I don't know why, I'm nervous to go." I didn't feel good about it like I did with our first baby.

TMS and I drove to the facility where they put us in a darkened room and a technician began the ultrasound. We were craning our necks to see the screen and asking with anticipation, "Is that the baby?" The response we got was, "It is...but" But??? But what?? My mind racing, I thought they were going to tell us it was physically deformed in some way. She quickly replied, "I am not finding a heartbeat." She then turned the screen away and continued to take measurements, etc. We were stunned and I was certain the heartbeat would be discovered soon. She left and got the doctor who quickly looked and stated that, yes, our baby hadn't survived. They estimated that it hadn't thrived past 15 weeks. They handed us a box of kleenex and walked out to give us a moment alone. We were stunned and it seemed so unreal. I didn't cry. I just couldn't believe it. Last week's episode of Grey's Anatomy brought this all to the surface once again. There are still many reminders.

We had much comfort from our family and friends all who were trying to do and say the right thing in such a painful and tragic situation. I saw kindness and compassion in people I didn't know existed. I felt grief I had never felt before. In an effort to make me feel better, a close friend told me that his mother had suffered a few miscarriages. He said that she always told her kids that if she would have had those babies, she wouldn't have had them. My answer was, "But I wanted that baby." I mistook what he was telling me as insensitive as I could not yet see it from that perspective.

Time went on and we all got back to our daily routines. The problem was, I worked at home all by myself with no distractions. Yes, I had another baby at home, but being just one year old, he wasn't that great of a conversationalist. I was alone all day with my thoughts. I couldn't stop thinking things like "why us?", "what might have happened to cause this?" and "could it have been something I did?" Each day, every step of the way, I pondered these questions. Looking back, I'm sure I was in a slight depression and could have used counseling and/or medication. Later that summer, we got a call from the doctor who told us the baby's death was caused by a chromosome disorder, Trisomy 16. There was never a chance that the baby would have survived to full-term. I finally had my answer and told TMS I was so relieved because I had been questioning whether it was something I had done. I had never told him that before and therefore he couldn't help me through those feelings when they were occuring.

Like all grief, time takes away much of the pain and we moved on. We learned we were expecting another baby about a year later, and on November 17th, 1999 we welcomed our second son into our lives.

We have told the boys the story of their sibling who is waiting for us up in Heaven. They have a lot of questions. Mainly, was it a boy or girl? I chose not to find out because it would have made it that much more real and painful.

Fast forward to this morning in the car after dropping off our older son. To lighten the mood, I asked what our younger son was going to ask Santa for for Christmas. He said, "The same thing I ask for every year. I never get it."

"What is it that you've asked for and never gotten?" I asked. Would it be X-Box? PlayStation? A mini-bike?

"That baby that died in your stomach." I was leveled by the answer. I immediately got a lump in my throat and couldn't go on without the high-pitched crying voice and the goofy-looking distorted mouth. I had to explain to him why it happened. It's hard to explain genes to a young child. I pulled in the drop off area in full crying mode hoping that none of the faculty would see me. Then a friend honked at me and waved. Could she tell? As it was his turn to jump out of the car, slam the door behind him and start his school day, I quickly told him, "It just wasn't right. It wasn't meant to be. If I had had that baby, I wouldn't have had you." Now this thought brings me so much comfort. I can't imagine my life without him.