I know you fought hard but why not harder?
I miss you.
No one will ever understand how deep pain can get unless they lay their own child to rest.
Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of the pain.
I have to move on, I have to move forward, or at least that is what they say.
I don't want to move on.
In fact I keep reminiscing:
Hour number ONE: Surgery, a painful knife cutting into me to try to save your life. You're here, no cry, and now you're gone. I'm told updates from afar. Zero heartbeat at birth. Zero heartbeat at thirty seconds of life. One minute and a ventilator later and you're alive. My son, my one pound and fourteen ounce baby boy.
Hour number SIX: Hello, my love. You're beautiful, even with all the tubes and wires. You're mine and I love you. Please know that I'm sorry for not being able to keep you closer longer. Please know that I tried my hardest and please prove everyone wrong. I named you Kaden Elijah for a reason. Kaden means "fighter" and Elijah means "The Lord is my God". Please stay strong for Mommy and Daddy and Liam.
Hour number TWENTY: Hi Kaden, sorry I didn't come sooner. The doctors wouldn't let Mommy get out of bed until now. They say I need to heal but they are wrong, I need to be with you. The nurse says I can touch you, I'm afraid but I do anyways... Just rest baby, I'll be here while you sleep.
Hour number TWENTY-FOUR: Hello baby boy, meet your family. They all came to see you. Only two at a time though, and we have to be quick, you aren't feeling well. We cover you up. You bring so much joy to everyone. Everyone loves you and wants you to be okay.
Hour number THIRTY: I'm awoken by a doctor. "Mrs. Cahall, you may want to come down to the NICU. Kaden's lungs are weak and they need help. We're working on him now. See you soon." I'm hurrying baby. Mommy is still in a lot of pain. I'll get my nurse and I'll be there, just hold on.
Hour number THIRTY-ONE: I'm looking at you and you look so helpless. You now have a new tube, it's in your chest, to drain the pressure from collapsing your lung. They say you're in pain, they give you morphine. The doctor tells me your lungs are so frail. They say you can't breath without the machine but the machine is blowing holes in your lungs. What do I do. I want you here with me, I want you to be healthy. All I do is hold Daddy's hand tight and cry.
Hour number THIRTY-THREE: You've done well little man. These past two hours you've held well. We've relaxed a little, but only a little when you show us that we shouldn't. It happens again. Your numbers are dropping... within seconds you're surrounded by people. Another hole in your lungs, another painful tube inserted through your flesh. More morphine. You don't move....I cry. Daddy is crying. Someone holds us when it happens again. Why. Why are your lungs giving up when we're fighting so hard. Within minutes, four tubes support your failing lungs.... what now.
Hour number THIRTY-FOUR: I just know that you're telling me that you're too tired. That you are ready to be happy and healthy, that you're done. The doctor looks at me, you aren't responding to the medicines for your heart or your blood pressure. Why. Everything is crashing down, our hearts are breaking. We have to decide if we let you suffer or if we let you go. How unfair. I want both, I want you here and I want you well. No one cares what I want, not even God.
Hour number THIRTY-FIVE: Everyone is preparing. They are going to let me hold you one time before you are gone. They have to give you pain medicine. They have to take you off the ventilator and off your tubes and wires. They call in our pastor... I'm numb, my heart shattered, and my mind blown.
Hour number THIRTY-SIX: In my arms. In my arms you are drifting. You've just been baptized so I know God is calling your name. I know Papaw Bayne is waiting for you. He wants to hold you but I want you here. You look peaceful, you look like you are ready. Why am I not. I can't help but sob.I can't help but be selfish in this moment. I don't want to let you go. Please don't go, but you're gone. Goodbye my precious angel, goodbye my little warrior. Goodbye.
I am without you, but I want you. I want you even more today than yesterday. I want you and I can't have you. I was only given thirty-six hours. I've yet to figure out why. I've yet to understand but I do know that I'm not going to be okay, and seeing you later is too far away. I'm still numb, I'm still heartbroken, I'm still shattered. I'm stuck in the last moments and everyone else is moving on, they tell me I have to too. Please know I love you, please know I wanted to be your Mommy for longer, please know I would give anything to change anything, and please know we will never forget you, never.
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