I thought I was doing ok.  I got my grades back from last semester and they were all A's.  It is the only time in my life I have ever gotten straight A's and the only time that I have a 4.0 gpa going.  I also am going to be getting ready to go home here soon to see Marcellus's headstone put in.  I am not too upset by that because I feel like we owe it to him to have a permanent marking of his spot.  I also have been losing weight and found a passion for running when there is little passion left in my life.  I thought things were going well until I have been hit with some curveballs that have added up. 
First, I signed up for a CNA test and the date is the day after we leave.  Not a huge deal but 101 dollars down the drain.  Why they do not let you pick your date is silly.  I then got my financial aid suspended because since I withdrew my fall semester my completion rate is below the mandatory 67%.  I just had to send in my appeal accompanied with the death certificate to say "I had to withdraw from the fall because my 12 day old son died."  A couple that I know that lost their baby in January 2011 after over five months of battling for his life just had their rainbow baby.   A beautiful little girl who they just brought home from the NICU.  Seeing them bring such a small, healthy little baby home reminded me that Marcellus probably could have came home earlier than they told us if he would have done well.  I am happy for them however, the pain they have endured escapes me.  How one can put their life back together after that is amazing.  And now my brother and wife are pregnant again.  They had an early miscarriage but got pregnant again right away.  He told me the news and told me that he got to call mom on Mothers Day with the news to let her know she will be a grandma again.  I sent my mom a card telling her that I appreciated her.  She got a call from my brother that she might have a grandchild that wants to stay longer than a couple weeks gestation or 12 days after he/she is born.  My brother and sister-in-law are older, and I know that they want to be good parents to more kids than just their little lime they lost recently.   But I cannot help think that it should be us too, we should be given the chance to raise a child here, in our home, like my friend.  I just want that chance. 

I can do things for my son, like put in a headstone, brew a beer, read him stories, give blood, March for Babies, etc...  but I can never do things WITH my son.  I want to do things with my children, to raise them, to shape them, to help them become good, loving people.  I want to accept them for who they are, I want to pick them up when they scrape their knee or when they become heartbroken.  I want to be the person they look up to.  I want to be there for a long time when they grow older.  I want to hold my wifes hand on a Mothers Day far off in the future as we are surrounded by our children and grandchildren and know that Marcellus shaped this family for what it is.  I just want that chance. 

Six months, still no home

Last night my wife asked me why I do not blog as much lately, I do not know why.  Maybe I am sick of it, maybe I am sick of this grief.  6 months ago I lost Marcellus and now I have to find my new normal.  A lot has changed for me in the past couple of weeks, we did March for Babies.  Our team won second for money raised and won best t shirt.  It was an incredibly humbling experience and awe inspiring to have so much support for my little buddy.  Last week I completed my semester, the semester which I started last fall and had to stop six months ago after he died.  In a way I did not want this semester to end, it was my connection to him.  He helped me study for Anatomy and I did not want to stop doing that.  But I have to move forward, to 'move on' as others who have no idea what its like to lose a child say to you.  We are now getting ready to go back home in a couple weeks for his headstone. 

Which brings me to what is home now?  If Marcellus is our son and your family makes your home then what do you do in our case.  Before Marcellus it was just my wife and I.  This was our home, where we were.  And that was only cemented when we found out about him, I really started to consider NC our home.  We were going to bring a child into the world.  Two northerners from Minnesota were going to have a Carolina baby.  When he died and our family shattered we buried him in Minnesota because we did not know where we would be in 10 years.  The thought of moving him makes me cringe, I never want to.  But now my child's soul is in heaven and his body is in Minnesota.  His parents are left heartbroken in NC, where do we call home?  Is it when we go back to the grave and see his spot?  Do we call that little chunk of land home?  Or can we still call NC home, maybe the hospital was our only true home.  I do not know.  I hate this all, it makes me sick. 

I have to go to work today.  I never planned on it, I swear I requested the day off and they are suppose to let me know if I did not get it off.  But I have to go to work and leave Mommy by herself for the evening.  I do not know how I will do it, hopefully I make it through.  And if I cannot, I will leave.  I hate it there anyways, everything seems so far away.  My son, my family, the fact that I am a father.  I just feel like a worthless plebeian there.  No one is going to know that it is exactly 6 months ago that I lost him, and if I tell people I will look like I am rubbing it in their faces demanding sympathy.

I demand nothing, because I could not demand Marcellus to stay with us, he left because his body could not sustain his soul.  I could feel him trying to stay with us, he wanted to so badly.  But he could not, and we have to live with that for the rest of our lives... you've got to be kidding me.

Productive member of society

Apparently I am one of those people.  Productive member of society. I dont want to be!  I still want to grieve and do nothing else.  My schooling is past the point last semester where I had to withdrawl.  I needed to actually spend time learning the new material instead of reviewing.  My grades subsequently have went up because of this.  I have found it easier to do work and not just walk through the aisles feeling sorry for myself.  I have started my garden that I always wanted to.  Sure its just potted plants but I spent two days on it and its nice.  I also fixed up the deck with another chair and a table.  I can now sit out here under the protective umbrella of citronella and watch the day go by.  The sound of the road is in the background and continuous but I hear nothing of the neighbors, nor can I see them.  I cut down four small pine trees that blocked the sun from coming through shining on the deck on the evening hours.  They also felt too intrusive as they hung over.  But I have no houses around me in the back and woods are all I see.  I actually have some privacy!  It is peaceful and I have sat out here many days this week just relaxing, listening to music, and thinking about my son.  I have been so busy lately that I have not even wanted to write.

I dont know why, I still think about him constantly.  I just have not felt the need to blog or journal.  Partly because there is not one singular thing weighing heavy on my mind.  I have been so scatterbrained and busy bodied that thoughts come and go.  Maybe my brain is processing my grief differently, or something is wrong and I have not figured it out yet.  Sure the big thing that is wrong is my son is dead and his six month birthday is coming up and all I can think about is how I should have a six month old at home but that cant warrant not wanting to write.

For now I will continue to do work on the house, work on the deck and garden, and work for school and see what will come of it.  I will be one of these fabled members of society everyone thinks I should be.  Too bad I only want to be Marcellus's daddy. 

Breakdown

So I am trying to decide if this was really a good thing.  I had a miserable night last night, I cried and cried because it hurt just as bad as after we lost him.  This gut wrenching pain twisting a knot in my chest cutting off air as streams of tears fell from my eyes and the inevitable stinging snot poured from my nose.  I missed him, I missed him so sharply that it consumed me.  The dog and the wife cuddled with me and we all cried (Perk misses him too.)  But why did I break down like that?

Yesterday I met up with a friend.  I had not seen him alone in a while, in fact the last time I saw him alone I brought him into the NICU and showed him Marcellus.  He gave the most awe inspiring reaction to him and he could not have been happier for me.  I felt so proud as a daddy to show off my son to one of my close friends.  You could tell he fell in love with him the moment he saw him, as most people did.  We talked for a little bit and then we left the NICU to go back to the hospital room.  He turned me around and gave me a big hug and told me how happy he was for me.  And I was happy, I was happy that I finally made it as a father and my life felt complete. That was the last time I had hung out with him alone.  So yesterday I brought him to the tree, I showed off his honor tree instead of him.  We walked around some parks and chatted for a couple hours.  We talked a lot about grief and Marcellus along with other non-dead baby things.  It was a really good time for me because I was able to get out and spend time alone with a friend in the outside world.  Just one more big step in grief that we are taking together. 

But after our support group meeting it hit me, I wish I could have had him over and showing him off again while my wife was on campus getting some work done.  As we get more and more able to step outside of these comforting walls I start to feel remorseful that I am able to do these things.  I should not be able to go for a walk with a friend in a park, I should be busy with a baby, a 5 month old! 

Last night we also wanted to see how long it took to get him out during the c-section so we tore apart my wifes records.  Well in doing that we inevitably moved on to his records and she kept asking me questions of 'what does this mean' etc. since I had the computer and some knowledge of medical terms.  She then asked me what does pneumatosis mean.  I did not know so I looked it up on wikipedia.   It means that there are bubbles of air trapped outside the intestine.  And it is specifically associated with NEC which happens only to preemies.  The wikipedia article also showed an x ray picture as a visual aid.  The same type of x ray that the doctor showed me the morning of his death.  He pointed out the bubbles and said that the black areas are free air, not good.  At that time the doctor knew he was a goner, and rationally I knew too.  He was not showing me the x rays because he wanted to inform me of the situation so I could make an educated decision, he was showing why he was going to die.  Mommy and Daddy held onto hope still at that time but we both knew in our minds he was leaving us that day, we just wanted more time.  Seeing that picture reminded me of that moment, and was the straw which caused this cascade of tears to flow. 

But I needed it, I had not been crying over him the last couple days and feeling oddly normal and adventurous.  These events happened today to bring me back to my real world, the world where he is 1200 miles away in a white box signed by friends and family.  And I am here wading through a sea of sadness and grief just trying to find any sort of ladder to pull me out.  I miss my son, I miss him more than I could ever describe.  I will never be done grieving him. 

These walls

Im safe here, protected by some invisible barrier against the world.  Inside these walls my son lives on through memory.  His pictures hang off the walls and litters the tables.  We mention his name as casually as we mention what we should have for supper.  Anyone who enters here knows that Marcellus is discussed openly, freely, almost as easily as if he was here, pooping in his diaper as we swoon over him.  We do not hide him, we talk about him constantly.  We talk to him constantly, keeping our conversations in polite language just in case he is listening for fear of him learning a dirty word up in Heaven.  We also have an unspoken rule of crying wherever, whenever, and for whatever reason we choose to cry over.  Tissue boxes run a plenty here, and when one is out of reach our shirts, blankets, or even the dog make an acceptable substitute.  Marcellus is here, inside these walls, forever. 

Outside however he becomes much more abstract.  He is a memory, an event to people.  A definition of suffering for some, a point of strength for others.  He is mentioned a lot less when we are outside these walls.  People will come up to us and ask how we are doing but they will not mention his name because of some sort of cultural code that we do not talk casually of the dead.  I do not know how to breach these walls with him, to carry his memory with me so openly and freely as I do inside this house.  I cannot start a conversation as "my son is Marcellus, he died almost 5 months ago, now what do you want me to help you find?"  No one is going to come up to me and say "I see you are in grief, tell me something about your son."  Even my Mom has trouble mentioning him directly to me.  I can hear she is uncomfortable talking about him but she will listen to me, not that I think she does not care for him.  It hurts her too to hear me in pain, and for her to lose her grandson, she just deals with things differently than I do. 

I wish I could bring his memory outside these walls as easily as bringing a baby in a car seat would be.  Maybe thats why I find it troubling to leave them, why this house comforts me so.  I miss him, I am still very much in a lot of pain over him.  I do not expect this pain to leave anytime soon.

Wheelbarrow

My take on grief is like this.  When you find out your child has died you pick up a wheelbarrow holding a pile of small rocks.  At first this is so overwhelming because you realize you have to push this wheelbarrow for the rest of your life.  Then day by day for the first month or so the wheelbarrow gets lighter and lighter because you get used to it.  And then you start to think that 'this isnt so bad, I can do this for the rest of my life.'  Little do you know that you have just been carrying your shock around because in the span of a short time your grief dumps an almost immovable pile of baseball sized stones in your wheelbarrow.  Every bit of your body strains against this load and you start to realize how incredibly difficult this is going to be.  A little bit each day if you work at your grief you take one or two rocks off your pile, some days you put some back on.  If you stop grieving you set your wheelbarrow down but it will be waiting for you to pick it back up, there is no walking away from it. Some day years from now your wheelbarrow will be empty, you have wiped it clean of even rock dust accumulated from years of hauling these rocks around.  You have reached a sort of peace with grief, but even then you still have to push the empty wheelbarrow around for the rest of your life.

Right now the wheelbarrow is chock full of rocks and sometimes it feels like people are throwing them at me just in spite.

5 Month Birthday

Its the 28th again, and that means a monthly birthday for my boy.  We are still very much in that age where birthdays go by month until some point in time when we start counting by years.  5 months today, just think of how much he would have grown.  How big he would be, the facial expressions, the coo's, laughs, giggles, little things I miss and I never even heard or seen them.  But these are not the things we are focused with on his birthday.

We are focused on things to remember him by.  In the next few months we have a lot of things coming together that will show the world that my wife and I love our son more than we love ourselves.  That we miss him so terribly much that it is impossible to describe.  We are putting in his headstone in the end of May, a beautiful dark blue stone without too much flashiness yet so much personalization.  As much as I will hate to see his name carved into eternity I want him to be justifiably marked the same as any other person in that cemetery.  A month from today we are marching for him at March of Babies in Durham.  We have raised way more money than I could have thought of and it is truly humbling to know that so many people have come forward in support and share how he has touched their lives as well.   And in less than two hours we are driving to a neighborhood park where we are getting a tree planted in his honor!  It is a maple tree with a plaque and its being put in by the parks system here.   He will have a space in Raleigh were we can go to honor him! 

But I would trade all this in for the chance of spending his 5 month birthday playing with him on the mat, taking a picture of him and posting it on the fb for our friends to see how well he is doing, maybe even catching a birthday nap.  Hearing him laugh, coo, giggle.... Thats what I want for his 5 month birthday.