Those first few weeks after my heart was broken

People think that they can imagine how the death of a child would effect them. They think they would die, or that they would be able to get over it, or that it would be similar to losing a pet. I have heard all stories believe me. "I remember when my goldfish died, and I was sad for days, but then I got a new gold fish and moved on." Sorry not the same thing. I will do my best to describe those early feelings, but since it has been eleven months, even some of my own words may be a bit limited.

I couldn't bring myself to use the correct words. I could say, "Jordan left" or "My baby is gone" as if he was at the store but would return at any moment. I certainly could not have said, "My baby died" or "My baby is dead." My mouth found it impossible to use those words. Still, even though I was unable to say it, I definitely understood it. I knew he was gone. I knew he would not be coming back. I felt as if I had died with him. That in the universe some mistake had been made that allowed my heart and soul to completely die, and yet my body and mind were left here, detached from any source of joy.

I felt a ton of guilt. I felt like I had taken my newborn son to the airport and put him on a plane and sent him out onto a journey all alone. I felt I had abandoned him. I felt like a terrible mother for not staying with him. He was so very tiny and sick, how could I allow him to go alone.

As my heart was breaking, my body was as well. I had major complications to my c-section. One was called a 'Seroma' which is when fluid collects at the site of the incision. I had to go in and have that drained every three days. It was terribly painful and I had a very difficult time standing up or walking. I also had a complication from the spinal block. The hole from where the spinal block was given didn't close. This caused the spinal fluid to drain from the hole. I can't possibly describe to you the amount of physical pain associated with this condition. My head, neck and back were in incredible pain.

Because of this physical pain, I was on a lot of pain killers. I was happy to have them. I would take exactly my prescribed dose without waiting even a minute past the time I was scheduled for the next dose. Yes, physically it was necessary, however, I think that if my baby had lived I may have tried to not take them as much. As it was he was gone, I appreciated the escape and sleep that the medicine gave me. I spent most of the first three weeks after Jordan's death in bed asleep. The combination of the medications started making me sick, and one day I just quit taking them all. I couldn't handle throwing up as it reminded me of when Jordan was still safely tucked inside me.

The first month was a fog. I was in shock, I was heavily medicated, and I was asleep. I didn't have to face much of what had happened that month. I did cry a lot and look at his photos and video a lot, but mostly I was in a state of disconnect.

The second month brought the emotional pain. The physical pain was greatly improved, the medication was gone, and now the reality of the loss of my son came and hit my like a truck. Of course this was also the time that we started getting "THOSE" comments..."It has been a month, shouldn't Jenny be moving on by now?" "Why does she always want to talk about Jordan?" "She has three other kids and a husband to live for, why is she so sad?" "At least she didn't get the chance to really bond with him." I have decided any phrase that begins with "WHY" or "AT LEAST" should be banned from the ears of a bereaved parent.

There is no greater love than that of a parent and child. That love begins at conception, or even before, when they start dreaming of this child and planning for this child and trying to conceive. That is when the bond happens. Do people really believe that the bond can't happen until the child is in kindergarten? Haven't they seen a mother nursing her baby at her breast? Haven't they seen the look in the eyes of a very uncomfortable pregnant woman gently stroking her belly? Haven't they seen the look in a mother's eyes when she gives her newborn the first kiss? Can they really believe that it is possible to take that baby away without absolutely crushing the heart of the mother?

At least every two or three minutes, and this is a literal estimation, not exaggeration, at least every couple of minutes I thought of how much I wished I had died and was with Jordan in Heaven. Every single moment every single day, I missed him. My breasts ached to have nursed him. It took weeks for that milk to completely leave. My body cried out as my heart did for this little boy I loved.

Of course there are state and federal guidlines that tell a mother how long after a birth she should be ready to move on with her life. With a c-section, that is eight weeks. I had eight weeks to die inside before I was required to live. May fifth, three days BEFORE my due date, I had to be back at work. I felt so much sadness and guilt about going back to work. I felt like I was leaving Jordan in the past like so many other memories that eventually are so faded you almost forget they happened. Like high school sweethearts I had sworn to love forever and now can not even remember their faces, I thought that Jordan's memory would disappear from my life. I held to every memory and rehashed them over and over in my mind all of the time. I was terrified that if I didn't focus all of my energy on remembering that I would surely forget.

Once I was back to work, I was surrounded by life again. I started feeling a bit better. I found it was ok to smile again. As the tiniest bits of joy creeped back into my life, I realized something amazing. When you allow some of the pain to lift, the joy and the memories flood back in. There just isn't room in one heart for that much joy and that much sadness at once. I began to realize that I was not leaving Jordan in the past at all. He had been catapulted to my future. He was waiting for me at the finish line, cheering me on. Instead of focusing on the deep unfathomable pain of my loss, I was able to focus on the amazing joy that waited for me in the future. I gained the eternal perpective of Jordan waiting for me, loving me, and busy about the Lord's business. Sure someone else's baby was learning to crawl, my son was up there dancing with angels and riding on rainbows, maybe even leading an army? I gained a pride that no one else could ever understand.

Those are my eight weeks after my loss as my "Mother's Heart" learned to beat again, not the same beat as before, but maybe something sweeter.