Memories

I have videos of the entirety of Sam's life...so even if I forget them, I'll be able to see everything from those moments.

The moments after he was born, however, are only images in my head.

After Sam died and everyone had the chance to hold him, it was time to get some rest. Jamey's family went home, my sisters slept on the chair and couch in my room, and my parents went out to the car to sleep. The hotel attached to the hospital told my family they'd be charged full price for a room if they checked in at 5am but would need to check out at noon, so they opted not to get one.

Jamey crawled into bed with me, Sam snuggled between us. He had been in heaven for over an hour, but to us it just seemed natural. We wanted to share one nap with our boy, before he was physically taken from us. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, of course. Hospital beds aren't made for 2 grown people. But we made it work.

Phone calls were made, and we were told that the director of the Cremation Society of Toledo would be coming to pick up Sam's body. The hospital told us that we were free to leave whenever we wished, but it was up to us to stay as long as we needed.

Around noon, a soft knock came on our door and the director, Rich, came in. This is a man who is in the right business. He sat down with us, I remember having a short conversation (but forget the details), and he asked if we were ready.

No, of course not. I could never be ready. In fact, I had asked the hospital if we could put Sam in the little carseat we had brought for him (in case he could come home for a short time), and transport him ourselves to the crematorium. The things you ask when you just want a few more hours with your baby. It might seem strange or morbid to most people, but we didn't care. It's illegal to transport a dead body across state lines they said, so we couldn't take him.

Rich said, "I have brought something to transport him in," and left the room.

Oh no. Please God, not a box. Not a cold empty box. I wouldn't hand him over if that's what he was going to sit in. I knew in my head, Sam wouldn't feel it...but my heart would.

The next thing I knew, Rich was back. He was carrying one of the sweetest white wicker baskets I've ever seen. It was lined with soft pillows. I cried when he brought that thing in.

We kissed Sam a million kisses, told him we loved him. We wrapped our baby up in a soft blanket, made sure his head was positioned just right so he was comfortable...and said goodbye.

We were discharged within the hour. Jamey drove me home in our car, while my family followed. When we got home, the first thing I did was jump in the shower. What a normal thing to do on such a not normal day. When I finished I got out and went downstairs to watch tv. What else is there to do?

We spent the next couple of days answering calls, texts, and emails. Sam's funeral was arranged for Thursday (he was born early Monday morning). I have a few memories from that week. Going to the ER for chest pain the day after he was born, and having to explain to 5 different medical staff at the hospital that I was postpartum but my baby had died. Meals delivered to the door by our church family.

And going to visit Sam the day before his funeral. I was so excited to see him. And nervous of course. He was kept in a cooler at the crematorium for a week before cremation. I wanted them to keep him there forever so we could come visit at any time. I'm just being honest here. When we got there, they brought him out to us in that sweet little basket. I picked him up and just cried. There were spots on his face and head that were purple from the blood having stopped, but otherwise he was still our perfect boy, and we wanted to freeze that moment.

We changed his clothes, so we could keep the ones he had worn for at least some time, we put a picture of us from our wedding day in with him, along with the shirt his Daddy wore when he was born. We added a monkey lovey that we wanted him to have played with one day. We wrapped him up again, kissed him over and over again, and said goodbye...again.

The day of his funeral I remember in bits and pieces. Dressing my body that still looked 5 months pregnant, having to wear nursing pads (I produced milk for 6 weeks after Sam was born), and going down to the church.

That was the first day we ever met Kyle Gray. He is a pastor at CedarCreek church, and ever since the first day we went there and he had been preaching, I had always wanted to meet him. Here was our chance...at our son's funeral. He sat down with us and asked us a few questions to better get to know us. I don't really remember what was said, except ONE question.

"Did he ever open his eyes?"

No. No, he didn't, pastor. I wanted to say, "Why would you ask that? Of course he never looked at his mother or father, grandma and grandpa, aunts and uncles. Thanks for the reminder!" Instead I just told him no.

Again, I remember very little of what was said at the funeral itself. The photographer who was with us for Sam's birth brought a beautiful slideshow for everyone to see, friends spoke, Jamey spoke. And so did Kyle. I remember it being a wonderful message, but was not expecting to hear this:

"Baby Sam never opened his eyes. Can you imagine, your entire life being lived being loved so much, and from the moment you entered and left this world, you only saw Jesus?"

Oh my. His perspective and words just broke me, and I am so thankful he said them. My baby has only ever seen heaven. He'll never know the pain of this world, the hurt, the suffering. And as much as it hurts me he's not here with us today, I am grateful that Jesus was there just waiting for him as he left my arms and entered His.

Sam was cremated 8 days after he was born. I remember wanting to be there for him, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't help but feel like I was abandoning him as his body burned, even though I knew physically he wasn't there and couldn't feel it. After his cremation, we were called to come and pick up his ashes.

That's where the ugly little box I had so feared came into the picture. Normally, we would have received an urn, but Sam's was on order from California. We went to Rich's office to pick Sam up for the last time. And there it was. A tiny little white box. It had Sam's name, an assigned number, and cause of death stamped on a sticker on the front. I hated that little box and put my own sticker on the front as soon as we got home.

As we stood in Rich's office, I froze. I didn't want to take Sam home. I didn't want to pick up that box and admit that our baby's ashes were in it. So, being the good daddy that Jamey is and has been from the beginning, he took it.

Now for a bit of humor. Please don't think we're crazy or weird or wrong. So many people have laughed with us over this that I think it's okay to share. Jamey and I headed out to the car, Jamey carrying Sam's little box. We got in, and put on our seat belts, and sat there for a moment. If you know Jamey, this will be funny. He told me when we got home the panic that raced through his head when we got in the car. He knew he couldn't hold Sam's box while he drove because it might fall, but also knew I did not want to hold it either. He said later, "Kaila....I thought, 'do I give it to her? or do I put him in the cup holder?'" The CUP HOLDER. I pray that no parent ever have to be faced with the difficult decision of placing their baby in a cup holder...but when Jamey told me his inner turmoil I BUSTED UP.

He ended up giving me Sam's box and I held it all the way home.

Sam is now in a beautiful wooden urn that has a ceramic baby sleeping in between angel wings. It sits on a shelf in our living room, and if you're ever over to our house you're free to take a look. Having him in our living space in a way makes us feel as though he's an 'active' part of the family. Eventually Sam's ashes will be buried with me.

Thanks for sticking with me for this lengthy post. I know it's 2 years later, but most of these memories I have never put down in words, and I thought it was time. Before they're forgotten forever.

Happy 2nd Birthday in Heaven, our sweet baby boy. Mommy and Daddy will always love you.

Until we hold you again.