Hour By Hour...

Good Morning. Brandon has done such a great job keeping things updated, but I have missed you all and wanted to take a turn. :)

I am feeling up to writing a bit...almost feeling as if I need to purge....you all have been such a receptive community and for that, we thank you. You have loved our precious baby Caden right along with us....

Although I knew that these days would be difficult, I had no idea just how painful they would be. My heart literally aches, and the tears burn in my eyes almost constantly. My body mourns the loss of our son, also....cramps, pains, tenderness....they all serve as a reminder that Caden is no longer inside of me. To ask a mother to tell her infant goodbye...it seems unreal to me, as I know it does to many of you. It just isn't nature's order, and although I know that God is sovereign, I can't help but question this call.

I hadn't realized how desperately I wanted Caden to be born alive. I am grappling with why God didn't allow us at least a few moments before He brought Caden to be with Him. I already know that I will probably NEVER get a reason why. I won't lie and tell you that I am okay with that. I simply am not. The look on Brandon's face when the Doctor told us Caden wasn't alive is one that won't soon be erased from my memory.

I wish I could convey to you how BEAUTIFUL Caden looked. His hair was my favorite part of him...a gorgeous color and absolutely silky soft. His little head was perfectly shaped, and his skin, although cold, was truly baby soft. His eyes were closed so peacefully, yet opening them revealed the deepest blue color you could ever imagine. His fingers were long, slender, and delicate. His little feet were also perfectly formed, with one little toe on his left foot that stuck up just a bit.

It was simply amazing to watch our family members embrace our little man. They held him so tenderly, with love reflected in their faces. It didn't matter that Caden's spirit wasn't inside his body...they showered him with love and acceptance and marveled right along with us at how perfect he was. Connor and Kylee each took turns holding him...how painful to realize that he will never get to run and play with them, but I know that he is watching over them from above. Connor really wanted to dress Caden, and carefully laid out and folded the onesie we had brought...he and Brandon worked together to get the littlest Carlson all dressed up. Now the onesie is in Caden's memory box, a true treasure.

Brandon and I were allowed some very precious time alone with Caden as well. We curled up in bed together, just the three of us, and we stroked his soft head and inhaled his faint baby scent before laying him in the basket for the last time. We knew, in those moments, that our struggles over the last three months had been worth it.

We went to the funeral home yesterday and that was a total nightmare. I know it's their job, but getting a sales pitch about purchasing family burial space just wasn't what we needed. We signed all the paperwork, and paid a bill that I had never fathomed paying...for the cremation of our precious son. Looking at his death certificate and seeing that the "never married" and "never employed" boxes were checked brought a great deal of pain, but I have to remind myself that such earthly pleasures are far beneath the splendor of heaven that Caden is experiencing right now. We picked out an urn that is a little teddy bear, and Alexandra's House will cover the cost of that for us as they assist us in memorializing our son. They offered us one last chance to see Caden, but we opted not to. A difficult decision, but we decided that the image of him resting peacefully in the white basket (the picture posted on our earlier blog), is the one we want to carry with us.

Looking at pictures of him is still so painful. I know that eventually, these momentos will bring me a great deal of comfort, but for now, they are symbols of something that has been lost. I talked with another Mom who has experienced infant loss, and she said "you just have to get through this, hour by hour." She's right. There's no way out but through it.

The day I left the hospital, it was bright and sunny out. As she wheeled me outside, the nurse said, "At least it could be rainy. That would be more appropriate, wouldn't it?" I don't know that I actually responded to her, but inside I thought, "No. My baby boy knows I need the sunshine on my face today."

Today is a rainy day. I guess God is crying with us.