What...
I miss him. Everywhere I turn there are reminders. Babies in their carriers at a restaurant, pregnant women eagerly looking at diapers and little clothes in the store. I try to be happy for them, but honestly I just want to scream.
I watched the last video tonight. It was taken Saturday night, May 20th. He was sick, and he looked tired. It was so hard to watch. I spent that night on the phone with Tiffiny, crying because I knew it was bad. Then Dad came--Gary and I walked into the NICU after getting a snack, to find Carter in the arms of his Papa. We talked for hours as he held him, and I will cherish that time forever, as I'm sure he will. I saw that night the love of a dad for his daughter and a grandpa for his grandson.
I remember that I took the video that evening, as well as the last picture we have of Carter. Then I stood by his crib and sobbed for my child. But he'd pull through this time, too....that's what I told myself that night.
I titled this post "What"--
What happens now? What's left of who I am? What is it going to take to be able to go on? What do I do with my time? What is the answer to the "do you have any children" question? What could possibly help to heal this horrible pain? What if we have no more children and i never know what it's like to hold my baby again? What amount of time is "right" before we do? What is the reason for all of this? What was God thinking when he gave us a baby to fall so in love with, and then chose not to heal? What could have been done differently? What if?
I know all of that sounds so sad and depressing, but these are the things that go through my mind. It's not pretty or eloquent, it's just me, broken and crushed. I'm so sad for him.
I realize that I know the answers to a few of the questions. Life goes on. It takes time. I'll get a job and even be able to find an answer to the probing questions. Only God knows what the future holds.
Things always could have been done differently, but I am trying to convince myself to acknowledge that the result would have been the same. Carter was just too sick. He had too many problems. Even if he would have gotten a transplant, the damage had been done. He was so small and his little body would have had a lot of trouble with such a big surgery. He passed away as a result of liver failure, kidney failure, and stroke.
God took him away from his pain. I try to picture God watching everything unfold. That last day was just too much. God loved Carter, and he just couldn't see him suffer anymore. He knew his life would be so hard if he survived--he'd be on medicines forever, would not get to have a "normal" life, would be small and sickly, never get to eat a normal diet, and have to watch life from the sidelines. Now he is in heaven, really living. I don't know what it's like, if he's a baby or a 5 year old or a grown up. Or perhaps some form that has no age. But I do know it has to be perfect.
And I know that Carter affected so many with his smile, his big, brown eyes, and his courage. I'm happy for those of you who were touched by his story, and I know that he's a "testimony"--a word I've come to dispise. I am proud of him, I'm proud to be Carter's Mommy.
But I miss him. It's 2:30 a.m. and I just cannot sleep. You've read this many times before...but it doesn't get any easier. Maybe it's even getting more difficult. The shock is wearing off and I'm just here, alone, without my baby. I would give anything, do anything, to change it. To have just a little more time with him.
That's my regret. Everyone says you can't do that, it's not healthy to question. But I look at all the time I chose not to be with him, when people would visit, so I'd sit in the waiting room with them and talk and laugh, instead of being with him. The last day, when I went to take a shower instead of holding him. I will regret that shower for the rest of my life. Don't tell me not to. I just will.
Tomorrow we go to the funeral home to decide on a stone. We hope we can put the last line of the ladybug book that we read to him and was read at his funeral:
Carter Maxwell Heckman
...you flew so fast. Now you can rest, home at last!
March 9, 2006 - May 22, 2006
posted by Carter Heckman @ 12:05 AM
9 comments
9 Comments:
Sarah:
I love you so much. I know these questions are difficult to answer now, and will continue to be difficult to answer for quite some time. There is nothing I can say to comfort you, there is nothing I can do to make this hurt go away, but know that I am hurting with you. I never met Carter, but I still know that you weren't the only ones who lost something special, the entire world was better because Carter was here. He continues to make the world better through his 'legacy,' but I know that as an expectant mother a legacy is just not good enough, I know that what you want is a baby to hold, to wake up and change diapers, and fix bottles at 2:30am and not be writing a post about something that is so horrendous that it shouldn't happen to anyone. I don't know why God chose not to heal Carter, I don't know when it will be right for you and Gary to have another baby, and the answer to if you have any children is YES, you have a beautiful son who lives in heaven with our Ultimate Father. He IS perfect and precious, regardless of what state of life he is in, he is still with us. Again, Sarah, I love you so much, and Josh and I are here waiting for you to tell us what to do to help you, you already know, whatever it may be, it could never be too much to ask.
All My Love,
Amy
Sarah,
First of all--ditto to what Amy said! Very well spoken.
Second of all, I think we all have regrets about not spending enough time with Carter. I'm not going to tell you not to feel that way, because I would feel the same way. I have many times regretted not coming to see him more often. But there is no way that you, or anyone else, could have known that his time would be so short. And in that situation, you have to give yourself breaks. I know you wanted to spend every precious minute with Carter, but that would have been so hard on you. In the NICU, you just can't sit with your baby all day, every day. That would have made you crazy. It was good for you to get out sometimes, it was good for you to visit and laugh in the waiting room, it was good for you to do things for yourself. I understand your regret, but it couldn't have been done differently. You did what you had to do to get through it.
And now that the shock is wearing off, and you are having to deal with all of the questions, answered and unanswered...and trying to understand all of the "what ifs"...
Yes, life does go on, even though you don't feel like you want it to. Yes, time will make things easier, though you will always miss Carter. Yes, it will be hard to deal with all of these things--but you are so much stronger than you even realize. And when you can't be strong...we are here for you...whenever...whatever you need.
You will always be Carter's Mommy. Your son was an amazing little guy and his life was a miracle. He was strong just like you. And just as he drew so much strength from you when he needed it, now you can look back on his life and draw strength from him.
You are right to be proud to be Carter's Mommy! Amy already said this, but it bears repeating: The entire world was better because Carter was here.
Sarah -
Thank you so much for the e-mail. Carter's story is so incredible and horribly heart wrenching at the same time.
We'll be praying for you - and if there is anything I can do as another livermom - please let me know.
Bless you -
Stacy Zerr
sarah, again, your post is heart wrenching. it strikes a chord of recognition. as someone who has lost a baby, i well remember many of the feelings you are feeling now....
you are still you, the essential sarah is still there under the grief and pain. when you find yourself again, there will be changes. you cannot go through what you have and not be changed.
it's been many years, i still regret the fact that i didn't defy the doctor and go to see my baby when she was transferred. reason tells me it wouldn't have changed anything and i wasn't physically in any condition to travel at the time. the regret lingers, i finally realized, through god's grace that the guilt was unfounded.
in a perverse way, i was strengthened by the feeling that whatever i had to endure, i would never hurt that much again. there have been many losses since then, to death, divorce, unfulfilled dreams. nothing has ever hurt that much...i know something could, but it hasn't.
i had quit my job too....in retrospect, for me, it was a mistake not to "have" to be involved in something outside home. for me and my personality there is healthy balance between being free to grieve and having to go on.
i was more afraid "not" to be a mom than i was to try again. god blessed me with 3 healthy children. (a miscarriage and a ruptured ectopic pregnancy). if i had not conceived again, i would have sought to build a family in another way. i always felt i was to be someone's mom. i knew i was her mom, i wanted to raise an earthbound child. you are carter's mother, when people ask, answer in whatever way is best for you. the answer may change depending on the day. is it harder to tell or harder not to tell?
you will get through it bit by bit; one minute, one hour, one day at a time. little bit by little bit, the pain will ease. i don't know what "it" will be, but you will find a reason to go on, you will have purpose in your life again, you will want to go on. you will have joy again. you will feel at peace again. it will sneak up on you and catch you unawares.
god's view is so much bigger than ours from our human perspective. there are no answers to why's. you and gary remain in my thoughts and prayers, daily. i pray god's healing and restoring peace for you both.
I pray that God gives you strength during this most difficult time. I cannot imagine your pain. My daughter, Janna, was diagnosed with biliary atresia, had the Kasai at Children's in KC at nine weeks old and was nineteen months old before she had her liver transplant...just ten months ago. I feel the pain in your blog as I know our outcome could have been wrose at any step of the way. We will keep you and your husband and family in our prayers.
Sarah,
I will start by saying it was really nice to see you and Gary at the store the other day!
I find myself reading your posts over and over again...thinking and rethinking. Trying to decide just the right words to type on this page. I've decided there aren't "right" words. Nothing about this situation is "right". The questions you have will take time and a lot of healing before you will come to an answer...if there ever really is an answer. The regret you feel will probably linger and it's heart wrenching. My heart hurts for you. I know you don't expect advice or even comments for that matter...I'm sure some days it is even hard to read what people have told you to believe and feel.
You and Gary are two of the most wonderful, caring, kind hearted people I have ever met. You deserve happiness...however that may be. The two of you have so much love to give. Let your heart guide you. You are in my thoughts and prayers daily.
With Love,
Jami
Sarah,
Carter was blessed with a mom who had hope for him. That's why you took time for a shower that last day. You had hope that there would be more days. That hope probably helped sustain Carter. He was so lucky to have such loving parents.
I love what you want to put on Carter's Tumb Stone. It would always remind you of that special time you had with him every night of his short life. Hope it works out that you can use it. Take Care.
Good Luck and God Bless!
Linda
Sarah,
We understand how you feel. Our son Zane had biliary atresia and died when he was 4 months old. He was in the hospital waiting for a donated liver that never came. We sat for over 7 hours rocking him while he died and all the while I was thinking this is so surreal...how can it be so beautiful outside while inside it's so dark? It will be 3 years this August when he died and sometimes it seems like yesterday. However, we try to remember the good momemts of the little time we had with him...I do regret I wasn't able to spend much time with him (I had to work) but I'm grateful his father was able to stay at home caring for his only son.
I can't say the pain will go away 3 months from now or even 3 years from now. Everyone grieves in their own way. Just keep your memories of him close to your heart, share them with others when you can and you may find that one day the pain will be less intense.
Take care.
-Jeanna
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