Surreal

There are few things as surreal as the death of a child. I keep wondering if this is really happening to me, my family. My heart is so overcome and burdened with sadness that I am not sure how much more it can take. I have had to call the hospital, funeral home, and church. Each, in its own way, has a piece to this unbearable story.



In Florida, there are no laws to govern what happens to the body of a 17 week old fetus. Some hospitals simply think that it is *tissue* and dispose of it as such. Oh my God. I am in a panic when I realize.... WHERE IS MY BABY? This is Tuesday morning (4/14), one week after we miscarried, and Bob makes the call to the pathology department of our hospital. They have him. Thank God.



I am not sure what our society will ever do without Google. It is with morbid curiousity and necessity that I am looking up the cost of funerals, caskets, cremation, and urns. I need to find something that is right for our family. I think cremation is what is right for us. Florida is probably not the place where we are going to live forever. We have good friends here, but no family. I cannot see leaving our baby buried or his ashes here in Florida when we will probably not be here.



I find a teddy bear that has an enclosure that will hold a small amount of ashes inside of the bear. Our baby was so small that this is perfect. And, the teddy bear can be held and snuggled. I can't see that being an option with a pewter or marble urn. I order the bear with two day shipping. I need this to be over as soon as possible. I need our family to have closure.



Wednesday... I have been thinking of planting a butterfly garden for awhile now and seem to be compelled to do it as a memorial for the baby. The big kids are in school and so, Rebekah and I go to Lowe's to look for plants. Monarch butterflies are native to Florida and the plants necessary for them to thrive are what I am looking for. We only find a few plants there and are disappointed. A good friend from school calls me later that night and says that Home Depot is the place to look. I thank God for my friends and family right now, they somehow have the perfect timing through this whole thing. Later that night, when Bob is home and the kids are in bed, I go to Home Depot and find exactly what I am looking for.



It is now Thursday and I am feeling panicky. I go back to school on Monday and really, really want closure to most of this. Bob thinks we should call the church to see what they can help out with. I make the call while he sleeps because I just can't wait any more. I have the church receptionist in tears with me as she tells me that if we have a funeral or memorial service with the cremains, that the church would want him to be buried there. And since Florida is not our forever home, that was the answer to that.



There has been another thing on my mind... I want, no I NEED, my baby's footprints. I wanted to get a tattoo for my 35Th birthday and just couldn't find the *right* one, so I just didn't do it. Now, I am drawn to the idea of getting his little footprints permanently etched on my body. This is so not me, but I can't let the feeling go. I call the pathology department and get passed on to the baby unit. The head nurse, Petal, asks me if I didn't get them with my paperwork, pictures, or little box when I left. Ahhh no.... I inform her that the only paperwork I left with that day were my discharge papers. Silence for a moment and then she says she'll call me back.



I am ANGRY. Box, pictures, papers??? I am beyond livid. I call my mom and vent out all of my frustrations. Stupid nurse, I KNEW there was a procedure. I cannot believe it, but thank God that they still had his body and could take his prints then. I wait a couple of hours and get the call that his prints had been taken and that the funeral home can come get him now. I place a call to the funeral home to inform them and set up a meeting for 1 o'clock. We need to get this done while the big kids are in school. Spare them what we can of this part.

I cannot remember the last time that I was in a funeral home. I think it was when my ex-step grandfather had passed. It was quiet and peaceful inside. We went through the paperwork, signed and paid. Eric informed us that our John Aaron was on his way at that very moment. That information just sat still and heavy on my heart.

We proceeded to the hospital to pick up the footprints and I couldn't help but think that he would pass by us in the other direction. I kept an eye out for a black sedan or car, but I don't think they put large signs on the cars that pick up remains. Even so, I looked hoping to find one.

John Aaron's footprints are as big as my thumbnail. They are on the hospital's birth certificate and I lose my breath every time I think about how someone took his little feet and pressed them against that paper. He was there, he existed and someone had seen him. Just not me. I felt him, his little head that day he started coming, but that was it and that will never be enough.

I felt the need to take the kids to Disney for the day. Strange to want to go to the Happiest Place on Earth, but we needed to be together as a family. Take a breath from all of this. It was so incredibly busy and poor Bob struggled with a sore tummy that it wasn't at all what I had hoped the day to be. The kids were tired and grouchy and even though we tried to make the best of it, we came home early.

The teddy bear had arrived when we were gone at Disney. I knew it would and had arranged for a friend to take out our dogs and take in the package. The kids woke up Saturday morning and wanted to know what my *surprise* was in the package. I took a deep breath, googled how to explain cremation to children and showed them the bear. They didn't mind that he was going to be cremated. They minded that his ashes were not in the bear already. Meghan took the bear and held it for an hour. And then, we wrapped him back up to take to the funeral home.

We all got dressed and drove down to the funeral home. The big kids wanted to come inside to drop off the bear, even though they knew they wouldn't get to see the baby. I don't think they completely understand that he isn't big like Rebekah was when she was born. Inside, we are greeted by two gentlemen and try our best to leave the bear and thank them for helping us. We make it with only a few tears.

We go to lunch and it's a quiet meal in a not-so-quiet sports bar and grill. They begrudgingly go to Home Depot with me to pick out flowers for the garden and cement to make stepping stones. We need to do these things together in order to heal, but it's definitely being forced. Later, when Bob's at work, I take the kids to go buy stones to decorate the stepping stones. Again, the behavior is rotten and it makes me feel like this isn't even worth it. I think I am the only one that needs to make this garden and so be it. When we get home, I go to work pulling weeds and trimming tree branches. The sweat and dirt calm my spirit.

It is now Sunday. The morning has not been easy at all. Bob still feels rotten with his upset tummy. Jacob is in a funk. Everyone is just plain tired. I do not look forward to going back to school tomorrow. I am not ready, but it feels like I have to be. I have to be done mourning because it throws off the rest of the family. That can't be healthy for the rest of us, but I don't know what else to do.