The ER

This week started out as one of the hardest weeks in a long time. Brock woke me up Sunday night with extreme abdominal pain. It didn't go away and when I palpated his stomach it was hard and tender up by his gallbladder so we headed to the hospital. The same hospital that our baby was taken to. The same place I was told that I now was a mother to an angel. Where I was told that my life will forever be changed. I had anxiety just driving there knowing where we were going. When we finally got back into a room they put us into the room directly across from the room that my entire life changed. I was able to stare directly into that room. All those emotions and feelings came flooding back as I stared at that room. I'm grateful that it was empty because I'm sure it would have been a lot worse if there would have been bustling around in the room. I never wanted to set foot back into that hospital again. The one time I had to for 5 minutes to drop off a Corby shirt to a friend I had a mental breakdown and lost it, and that wasn't even going into the ER. I never wanted to go there ever again. So being there for several hours having to look at that room and see the same tech that did compressions on Corby that night really killed me. It added to the stress of me already being worried about my husband writhing in pain on the bed. It was really nice to be able to talk with a fellow member of the "angel club" that happened to be there as one of Corby's nurses the night that we brought him in. He was kind enough to stay awake to chat with me when he was home. He was able to calm me down and reassure me that the anxiety and feelings I was having were all normal and he too still has those kind of feelings about certain things that remind him about his baby girl. I'm very thankful to have people like that in my life to help me with what I need.
He told me that Corby's night has haunted a lot of people that were in the ER that night and that nobody has forgotten him nor that night. Later the ER tech told me that she recognized me right away, but didn't know what to say to me in case I didn't remember her. There are some people that I remember from that night and others that I don't. I remember her specifically because I watched her do compressions on my son's tiny little body. That night is still so vivid and clear to me. I can close my eyes and it feels like I am standing in that room looking at the monitor willing as hard as I could to see his heart start back up and be able to watch it beat on the monitor. I remember everyone telling me to sit down. I didn't want to sit down I wanted to make sure my baby was ok. I remember someone standing next to me explaining to me everything they were doing to try and get his heart started again. I don't know if I will ever forget about that night. I don't know if it will ever not feel like I'm still standing there in this stagnant reality that I don't want to believe.
It's not just me that had anxiety. Brock's sister was an angel and was willing to bring us some necessities that we needed and drop some milk of to my parent's for Ledgyr and as she got to the room after we were admitted she had a lot of anxiety. I could see it all over her face. It made my heart ache because I knew why she looked that way.  She told me that it's because the last time she came to that hospital was in the middle of the night to say goodbye to her little nephew, and she too never wanted to go back to that hospital again. My parents also had a lot of anxiety, as well, because the last time they were called in the middle of the night it was the worst news of their lives. I forget how many lives this has affected. I hate that this has hurt so many people. So many people have so much pain in their hearts too, and that hurts me to know that I am not the only one in pain over the death of my son. I think about little things all the time that would be different if he were here. He would be playing with Brock's sister's son all the time. He would be another chatterbox in the back of my car. He would be that third little bum in the bathtub at night. He would have been the third child that my parents would have picked up that night in the ER. I think about how it would have been harder for them to take three children in their car. I wonder if we would have given them our car to take the kids in and used their car. I wonder how all sorts of situations would be different. I feel guilty sometimes because it is easier to take two kids around rather than three and sometimes I feel a relief that there is two. I wish there were three and I would deal with the struggle that more kids sometimes cause. I would gladly handle that any day of the week, but I still feel guilty. I guess that is part of the grieving process to feel guilty. Even if the death you had no control over. Your mind will still find something to feel guilty about. My counselor warned me about that. She told me to not feel guilty when I get a relieved feeling for certain things. Her example she gave was to not feel guilty when you feel relieved that you have one less child to buy school clothes for. She is right though. At the weirdest times I have moments of relief like that. Then comes the guilt after. Always guilt.
To report on Brock. He is fine. He had to have his gallbladder removed. He had several gallstones that could be seen on the ultrasound as well as a very elevated white count. The physician was worried that it was infected so they wanted to have it taken out right away. After it was out the surgeon came out to talk to me about how the surgery went and told me that it was severely diseased and it was one of the most diseased ones he has seen in a while. Before the surgery I was upset that they were insisting he get it taken out, but now having that knowledge I'm glad that he had the surgery. I'm so thankful that it was only his gallbladder and not something else. With my broken heart and mind my initial thoughts where he had something serious like cancer and  he would be dead in a few weeks or there was a problem with an organ that couldn't just be removed. So not only would I lose my son I was going to lose my husband as well and I was going to be a widow before I am even 30. I used to try to think glass half full type thoughts until I lost a baby suddenly and for no reason. Now my mind jumps to the worst case scenario first. I am starting to see that if I think that way then when something bad happens I'm not devastated or surprised, but if it turns out better then I am pleasantly surprised. That's good right? ;) I'm glad that everything turned out fine, but I still don't think I was ready to be back in that ER. I still don't plan on going back there any time soon if ever again. I'm glad we are moving so far away so our hospital that will be close to us now won't be that hospital.

A picture says a thousand words

There is a special thing that Corby used to do with us right before he passed. Brock talked about it at the funeral, but if you can't remember I'll fill you in. Addy's favorite movie around that time was E.T. she would walk around saying "E.T. phone home" and touching her finger to either mine or Brock's finger. Corby caught on quickly and he started doing it too. He would walk up to us making his "eh eh eh" sound holding his chubby little finger out for us to touch his. We tried several times to reciprocate it for other people to see because it was so cute, and he never would. I believe that it was him telling just his family that it was time for him to go home. After he passed I wanted to have a drawing of his little hand but twist it a little and instead of having him touch is finger to E.T. he would touch it to Christ's finger. I had an amazing friend offer to draw it for me. She spent countless hours and several months drawing it so that it was perfect for me. The detail that she put into it was unbelievable. I want to eventually put it on his head stone once we get plots for Brock, me, and him. The place we have him right now is my grandmother's plot and we knew from the very beginning that it would only be temporary. We needed somewhere to put him until we could get enough money to buy our own plots. It was also a comfort to me to have him not be buried alone and be next to my grandfather. It's such a terrifying feeling to not be able to have your baby with you or someone you know at all times. Even if it is only the shell of their body. That is still the body you know. I remember the night that they made us leave the ER and we had to leave him there the feeling I had was so terrifying and empty. The detective that drove him down to Salt Lake told me that he was so gentle with him and so careful the whole way because of the fact that he knew that was my baby he was transporting. That was a comfort, but just knowing he was there with strangers still makes my heart hurt.
Anyway, back to the original reason for this post. Here is a picture of the drawing.

I am so grateful for her and her amazing talents. I am grateful for her service to draw something so amazing for us.
Now for the second part of this. This last weekend was FanX. I was having a particularly hard time for some reason. I have talked about before about how I want to wear a sign around my neck telling people that I have another child.  I wanted a sign so bad that whole weekend. We took our nephew on the Friday for his birthday and there was a guy on Frontrunner that started talking to me about the kids I had with me. I so bad wanted to tell him that the boy playing with Addy wasn't my son and was my nephew, but at the same time it felt nice for someone to acknowledge that I had three children even if it was my nephew that I was using as my "sign". When it was Saturday I really wasn't wanting to go. I was tired and emotionally exhausted. I walked around the two days prior watching little boys running around in super hero costumes and wishing my little boy was running around too. I wondered what costume he would have chose to wear. I wondered if he would have stayed right by me or if he would have stayed right by me or if I would have been chasing after him the whole time. Chasing that I wish I had the chance to do.  Brock was there already on Saturday so I was meeting him and I kept having the feeling that I needed to go. I kept thinking along the lines that it was good quality time to spend with my husband. The last hour that we were there we were walking around the art section. I really was ready to go and we had already walked around the art section a few times the other two days, but I'm so glad that I didn't tell Brock that. because we came across this...

This is SO perfect because Corby's nickname was spidey. It's also a twist on his E.T. phone home thing. It felt like Corby was telling me that everything is fine and he's ok. For me to know that he is with me. I got chills when I saw this picture and I could feel him so strong. We asked the artist why he drew pictures of children with super heros. He told us that his first one was this one because that is him as a little boy and he always wanted to meet spiderman when he was little. I then told him why that picture was so perfect for us. After we spoke for a minute and went to get our money to pay for the picture he handed it to us and told us that he wanted us to have it to honor our Corby and his memory and it was the least he could do. I was blown away of the empathy he had for a complete stranger. There are some really great people in this world. You can check out his other art here. I am so thankful that I went that day. I can't stop staring at this picture. As we were walking to get out of the convention there were a few people that saw the print and told me how great it was. I was then able to tell a few more people about my baby. That felt really good even if I did cry when I told them. It always feels really good to talk about my perfect baby boy and I'm quite certain that won't change. No matter how many years pass.