One year ago tonight I was laying down to sleep with excitement of the day to come. It was a Sunday night, I didn't have work the next day, and I was going to get to see my little bean for the first time since our 8 week ultrasound.
Little did I know that the appointment I had so long waited for would result in spending the entirety of the following week on my pullout couch, unable to get up other than to drag myself to the bathroom. The first few days within finding out that our baby had kidney and heart failure were not pretty. I woke up every morning thinking that it had just been a bad dream and things were back to normal, only to be met with the horrible realization that I was living in that bad dream.
I remember calling my parents to tell them how the ultrasound went. They were waiting just as eagerly as we were to see a picture of our little one. They had plans to come visit us for Christmas that year already, because travel with a tiny baby would be difficult for us. Those phone calls were not anything I would rather do again.
I called my Dad first. It's unusual for me to call him at work, and even more so for him to answer, but when he did I told him I had bad news. I let him know everything the doctors had told us, and asked if it would be a good idea to call my Mom. It was the morning....I didn't want to ruin an entire day for them at work. He said yes, I needed to call her, and then I'll never forget what he said, "I'll tell you what. We're going to pray for this baby. We are going to pray for healing. And God will take care of the rest." Gosh, it makes me sad even to think about what receiving that phone call must have been like and having the strength for his own baby to say such encouraging words.
I called my Mom next. It is not unusual at all for me to call her during the day, in fact, I think she was waiting for it because she knew our appointment was that morning. My heart was pounding so hard as I heard her extension ring. She knew right away from the sound of my voice that something was wrong, and once again, I'll never forget the sound of the whisper that came out, "Oh Kaila, I'm so sorry."
It's amazing what we remember when things like this happen. I'll never forget it was January 16th, 2012 when we got Sam's diagnosis. I'll never forget our appointment was at 7:45am. I'll never forget driving home and calling my best friend back home to tell her I didn't know how I was going to break the news to my parents.
The next week we spent watching The Big Bang Theory on our pull-out couch. We decided we needed some giggles, because there weren't going to be many in the months to come. We would sleep, wake up, watch an episode and laugh, and then when a disc ended we would lay there and cry. Just cry. What else is there to do? I don't think I could ever fully explain that kind of pain.
I miss Sam dearly. I miss feeling him move, knowing exactly where he was laying for the last 3 months because he had no where else to go. I miss Jamey reading to him every night, ending with, "Goodnight Sam, I love you." And I know we have been blessed to be experiencing these things again except this time with a healthy little girl. But my heart cries for those moments with Sam. This wasn't supposed to be this way. There should be an 8 1/2 month old little boy in the next room. Instead there is an empty crib, empty arms. They will be filled again, and I am so looking forward to the day they are.
But tonight, tomorrow, this week....I will remember.
Little did I know that the appointment I had so long waited for would result in spending the entirety of the following week on my pullout couch, unable to get up other than to drag myself to the bathroom. The first few days within finding out that our baby had kidney and heart failure were not pretty. I woke up every morning thinking that it had just been a bad dream and things were back to normal, only to be met with the horrible realization that I was living in that bad dream.
I remember calling my parents to tell them how the ultrasound went. They were waiting just as eagerly as we were to see a picture of our little one. They had plans to come visit us for Christmas that year already, because travel with a tiny baby would be difficult for us. Those phone calls were not anything I would rather do again.
I called my Dad first. It's unusual for me to call him at work, and even more so for him to answer, but when he did I told him I had bad news. I let him know everything the doctors had told us, and asked if it would be a good idea to call my Mom. It was the morning....I didn't want to ruin an entire day for them at work. He said yes, I needed to call her, and then I'll never forget what he said, "I'll tell you what. We're going to pray for this baby. We are going to pray for healing. And God will take care of the rest." Gosh, it makes me sad even to think about what receiving that phone call must have been like and having the strength for his own baby to say such encouraging words.
I called my Mom next. It is not unusual at all for me to call her during the day, in fact, I think she was waiting for it because she knew our appointment was that morning. My heart was pounding so hard as I heard her extension ring. She knew right away from the sound of my voice that something was wrong, and once again, I'll never forget the sound of the whisper that came out, "Oh Kaila, I'm so sorry."
It's amazing what we remember when things like this happen. I'll never forget it was January 16th, 2012 when we got Sam's diagnosis. I'll never forget our appointment was at 7:45am. I'll never forget driving home and calling my best friend back home to tell her I didn't know how I was going to break the news to my parents.
The next week we spent watching The Big Bang Theory on our pull-out couch. We decided we needed some giggles, because there weren't going to be many in the months to come. We would sleep, wake up, watch an episode and laugh, and then when a disc ended we would lay there and cry. Just cry. What else is there to do? I don't think I could ever fully explain that kind of pain.
I miss Sam dearly. I miss feeling him move, knowing exactly where he was laying for the last 3 months because he had no where else to go. I miss Jamey reading to him every night, ending with, "Goodnight Sam, I love you." And I know we have been blessed to be experiencing these things again except this time with a healthy little girl. But my heart cries for those moments with Sam. This wasn't supposed to be this way. There should be an 8 1/2 month old little boy in the next room. Instead there is an empty crib, empty arms. They will be filled again, and I am so looking forward to the day they are.
But tonight, tomorrow, this week....I will remember.
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| 1st picture of my baby lima bean, a picture of Sam the week we got his diagnosis, and 2 hats he wore in the hospital. |
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