Failure

I have not been around lately nor felt the need to blog/write.   Not that I am not grieving, I am.  Not always actively grieving but still passively grieving.  I visit grief every time I see a family with a baby or small boy.  I grieve whenever I see pictures of him that are posted all around the house.  I grieve when I talk to friends or family.  I grieve when I smile or feel happiness.  Mostly I grieve my son not being here, silent grief that seeps in my head at any given moment.  I dont talk about it much anymore, but I am pretty much grieving him at any given moment in my day.  I grieve him listening to music, I grieve him doing work in the house, I grieve him reading a book.  I grieve him running.   I grieve him working.  I am still very much grieving for my son. 

Sometimes I feel like I grieve because I believe I failed him.  This is a recurrent issue with my grief that I have not come to terms with nor do I want to at this point.  I failed my son, I failed to keep him safe, to keep him alive.  I know that there was not much I was able to do for him in the first place but there is always something.  SOMETHING could have saved him, and I did not find it.  As a father I did not do what I should have done.  Researched more, asked more questions, wondered why his bowel moments were always so runny, asked why it took so long to have one.  A tie could have been made to a sick bowel and I could have asked them to look into it and maybe he would still be here.  I failed him when I sat by his isolette on the 9th and the chaplain is telling me that my despair is clouding the positive feelings we needed to be giving him.  Why couldn't I be more hopeful?  Why did I shut down so quickly.  I failed him as I stood by watching him being loaded into a hearse that was way too oversized for his tiny white casket by only a couple pallbearers.  I failed my family as the tears fell for my sweet boy.  Sure everyone says its not my fault and I did everything I could for him and I believe that but I still failed to keep him alive. 

I dont watch his video's, I can look at pictures of him because they are still.  But anything that shows him living its too hard to watch.  I remember his second ultrasound watching the chambers of his heart and thinking to myself that when I look at my son throughout my life I can think back to the time I saw into his heart.  Now that heart beats no more, it lies with him in his grave never to beat again.  How can such a strong heart give out like that?  I wish so very much I could see it beating again.   I have a recording of his heartbeat on my phone, such a wonderful recording I will keep forever yet it stabs deeply whenever I hear it. 

I dont know if I will ever get over feeling like I failed him, especially when I see so many people with their living children, reminders of that one sticking thought I deal with.  Im sorry Marcellus, Im sorry for not doing enough to keep you alive, I am sorry I failed you.  I love you so much please forgive me.