There are a lot of words, thoughts and feelings on my heart tonight. Things that I want people to know. Things I want Aidan to know. So I come here. My place to say them all without having to see the reactions. The place where anyone or noone can listen.
There are so many things. I keep typing them and then erasing them. Nothing seems to encompass what I want to say.
What I want is to go back. To go back to what I'm sure most people would call the worst day of my life. I would relive that day everyday if I could. Because it would mean that I would get to hold him again. I would get to do so many things I didn't get to do. And things I did do, that I want so badly to do again. The only way I get a part of that back is by telling our story. It only seems fair to share that story here.
Is it coincidence that I went into labor on Labor Day Weekend? The irony in that doesn't bypass me. Labor Day weekend was perfect. I spent so much time with people I love. I watched one of the most deserving people I know get her happy ending. My Vos married her Martin. It was perfect and I am so thankful that they allowed me to be a part of it. I am also thankful that God let me have that time. You see, I don't believe God took Aidan. I believe that life happened and in life bad things happen. But, I do believe that in these moments God is present. God was present in every single second for me. He couldn't stop what was going to happen, but he could give me shining perfect moments.
Once we got back to the hotel, I attempted sleep. It would not come. So, I sat listening to music and reading. I was so uncomfortable and eventually that turned to pain. I finally admitted to myself that something was wrong. So, after waking Evan and Dad we went to the hospital. On the way I prayed, but not what you would expect. I prayed for peace and understanding. I prayed that God would show me his grace. And he answered those prayers big time.
When the doctor told me I was dilated to a six my world stopped. I went from convincing everyone that we were going to be fine to realizing I needed to cherish whatever time I had left. I needed to soak up as much of Aidan as I could. So through the hours of back labor, being inverted, the back and forth with the possiblity of being med flighted, the friends and family who came by, the prayers going up, I stayed calm. I stayed in the moment. I held onto my sanity.
While I was holding on for dear life, others were experiencing Aidan for the first time. We were four hours away from home and yet, there was always someone there. Someone to hold the monitor when he got squirmy, someone to hold my hand through the intense contractions, someone fighting for us. Apparently he showed off for quite a few people during this time. Kicking and making sure we knew he was a fighter. He wouldn't give up.
After more than twelve hours of being inverted and starting to have hope the unthinkable happened. My water broke. For one brief second I let go and uttered the words no one should have to say, "I don't want to bury my baby." I remember looking up and seeing my mom. And then I realized I would soon be a mom and I had to keep it together. I had to be strong for him. So I did. I labored. I pushed. And finally after the longest day of my life I gave birth to a breech little boy. A perfect little boy. Whose lungs just weren't ready for the world yet. And God was there. He was there because he knew that I couldn't survive the hope of the NICU only to lose him anyways. And so he gave me peace. He let Aidan come to him in that final push. I literally handed my son to God as he entered the world.
When they brought Aidan back to me, it became the best day. I got to hold him. I got to kiss him. I got to memorize him and tell him how much I love him. I got to be a mom. The hours we spent ooohing and ahhing. The time we spent as a family will always be some of my favorite because that's all I have. That's all I get. I refuse to diminish that time by calling it the worst day of my life.
When River was born sleeping, the hospital told me that I could keep her with me for as long as I wanted/needed to. I had her with me from the time I woke up from the emergency C section on Easter Sunday in the afternoon, until just before I went to sleep the following evening. I slept with her in my arms on Sunday night, except I really didn't sleep because I knew I would have only one chance and I wanted to remember every detail of holding her, and her face, and everything, it was both the best and worst day of my life so far, and I will always cherish every minute of it, while simultaneously wishing that it had gone in a completely different way,
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