the story - part 1

I know on these blogs many people write thier stories.  What happened and when.  It's something I've actually been writing in a word document...it goes back to my fear of forgetting any details.

I've gotten a few e-mails asking what happened to Andrew so I wanted to share briefly what happened.  As I've mentioned a few times, I found comfort in reading others stories, but in particular stories like mine.  I wanted to learn about how others dealth with the same news I got.

Andrew died of Group B Strep Sepsis.  I wanted to know what happened, but no news comes without a mix of emotions.  The most difficult part of this news was knowing that Andrew was healthy.  He was healthy, growing at pace, and very active.  I remember sitting at work one day, pregnant, and shooting Adam an e-mail asking if it was too early to say that our son is hyper active.  The Dr's estimate is that Andrew got GBS about 7 days earlier, but once it turned into sepsis, he faded off within 24 hours. 

I'm no expert on Group B Strep, but it's pretty safe to say that I've read more about GBS than the average person (my husband would beg me to stop reading about it).  So, if you have any questions, shoot me an e-mail.  msm2jmu@yahoo.com

holy moly!

What is with this blog world?  I started reading blogs after Andrew, when I would do anything to connect with mothers who understood.  I started following a few, especially ones who lost thier babies right around when I did.  As I've started clicking from link to link, I am amazed at this world known as blogging.  It's unreal!  Some of them even talk about thier IRL friends not knowing about thier blog.  It took me some time, but realized that IRL mean "in real life".  This is quite an adventure...and a great way to procrastinate.  Seriously, I need to go get some other stuff done...

Here's a picture taken almost exactly a year ago.  This is Katelyn wandering down Adams parents driveway in Vermont.

as much as i do?

I got home last night and read this message that my oldest sister, Ann, wrote on my facebook wall.  "Ryan walked into my room scratching his head and said 'Mommy, I have a really important question. Do you think Katelyn misses Andrew as much as I do?'"

Ryan, 4 years old, is one of Andrews 10 cousins.  Ryan is the same one who, after finding out about Andrew, walked into my sisters room with a calender and asked if she could tell him when everyone will die so he'll know.  I'm always curious what they think of this experience, and how it might or might not affect them when they're older...and how this might affect Katelyn.  I just don't know.  If any of you out there have older children, or are a sibling, and experience on what their thoughts might be down the road, can you please let me know?

details

Why do I feel like I need to remember every detail about the days I had with Andrew? I suppose it's because that's all I have. I asked Adam recently if he remembered how everything was laid out in Andrews’s niche. We were visiting Andrew’s special place, I was imagining what was on the inside, and all of a sudden drew a blank on what was in one of the corners. I started to feel a sense of panic. Adam told me that he does remember, but it’s getting less clear. I went home that night and drew it out, with my awesome drawing skills of course. I have pictures of everything we included in the niche and now, I have my drawing of how it's all laid out too. I’ve read many other blogs and realize that this need to remember every detail seems normal. Normal or not, I fear forgetting anything about Andrew.

Here are a few things we put in the niche with Andrew. Katelyn picked the bear out months ago for her baby brother  (It's a smaller version of a bear that my mom had gotten for him).  Adam chose a football for various reasons. We also included some pictures and notes that Adam and I wrote to Andrew.

This picture was taken of Katelyn the same time I took the picture of Andrews’s gifts...I wanted to remember how young and innocent she was.  I love it when she puts her shoes on the wrong feet. It's one of my favorite things about childhood.

it's just different

Delivering a stillborn child is something that many people do not understand. I’ve been asked many times if it would be harder to loose him if I had gotten to spend a few days, months, or years with him.

My answer is always that you can’t compare. It hurts in a very different way. I miss what I never got to know. His eyes, his smile, his laugh, his personality. I am left to constantly wonder and wish. I never got to rock him to sleep, take him for a walk in the sun, tickle him and hear his laugh. If I had a choice, I would want to have a few hours, days, or months with him. But I didn’t. So to answer the question, I don’t think you can compare.  All I can answer is what I know.  And I know that this hurts.  I really miss my little guy.