Roller coaster

I've said it many times. Grief is a roller coaster. You have your ups and you have your downs. Sometimes it throws you for a complete loop. I've been thrown for a complete loop. I know it's because Corbyn's birthday is next Wednesday, but I didn't quite expect to be like this. I talk all the time that you don't ever "get over it". Somehow in my own mind I was thinking that I was, though. I thought that I wouldn't have too hard of a time this year as his birthday and angelversary arrive. Boy was I wrong! It all started Monday. All at once. I started reminiscing on Corby's first birthday party and how perfect it was. It was monster themed because we called him our little monster. He acquired that name while I was pregnant with him. He was such a mover! He would push and kick and poke me all day long. Brock would often look at my belly in awe because it looked like I had a monster inside of me. Well, I did! So his name stuck. He was our little monster. He was not a monster baby in a bad way at all. He was my cute little sweet monster. He held up to the moving part, though. He rolled over from his back to his front just a little over 3 months. He was crawling before he was 6 months and he was running by the time he was 10 months. He had things to do and people to see! I made him a big three tiered monster cake for his birthday and had a fun birthday party with games, activities, treats, etc.

We had a lot of people that came and celebrated his birthday with him and I'm so grateful for that.

I still think about the day that he was born. I remember the exact room that I was in. I remember the nurses that I had. I remember the calm spiritual feeling I had all that morning. He was a planned c-section so I was scheduled to have him at 8 that morning. We were told to show up at 6 to make sure everything was ready. I remember the outfit that I as wearing. I was so calm and ready for my monster to come. I was so at peace that my heart rate was between 40-50 BPM and the machine that they had me hooked up to kept going off because it was saying my heart rate was too low. It got to be such an annoyance that the nurse finally just came in and turned it off. After he was here I immediately felt this overwhelming need to protect him. I never felt that way with Addy when she was born. Nor did I feel it so strongly when Ledgyr was born. There was this connection there that the only way I could describe it was a burning within me. Like my spirit knew from the very beginning.

With me still working at the same hospital that I gave birth to him in, and the job I have. I frequently walk past "his room". The place that is so sacred to me I can barely look at it let alone walk in it. Some days I can glance in that general direction and remember the good of that day, and other days, like today, I look at it and wish I could go back. I wish I could hold him again. I wish I could go back in time and live those 411 days over again. 

Now I look at that room and wonder-did him coming via c-section have anything do to with him not being fully developed? Did I allow him to be cut out too early? Was it my fault? I question myself daily on what I did to have made him the way he was so that he couldn't stay with me on earth. I then I irrationally question whether he was even really my child. Did they somehow switch him in the nursery. Is my blood child still out there alive and about to celebrate his 3rd birthday? After all my other two children have brown hair and he was blonde.  Then I ask myself-would I want to have a different child than Corby if I got to keep him, or still only have the 411 days to love and cherish Corby? Even though it's so painful to not have my baby here with me and I wish I didn't have this pain I would still choose that 411 days even if he wasn't my child. That little boy gave me light. He had this love and presence about him that I can't really describe. I can just feel it. I wish everyday I still could feel that presence and light. I wish every day that it were different. I wish that I would have done things different 'that day'. I wish I would have not gotten him his flu shot. I wish I would have just waited. I want to know so badly if that shot had anything to do with him passing. I guess it wouldn't have really mattered. There is a scripture in D&C that God is talking with Joseph and he says that he will not go before his time. I deep down believe that it was Corby's time to go. So if by some chance that it was the flu shot that took him and I had decided to wait then it would have been something else that would have taken him. Maybe he would have died from the actual flu. Then what? I'd be blaming myself because I didn't get him the shot. He could have gotten brain cancer, he could have gotten hit by a car, or drown. All of those I wouldn't have wanted for my baby. I didn't want him to suffer. I know that the way that he passed that he didn't suffer. He wasn't scared. I haven't really talked about this on here before, but I know that people were there to take his little spirit back with them. To comfort him.  We have a video that shows them around the room and both Addy and Corby are watching them. The night that he passed he played his little heart out with his sissy for one last time. He wasn't sick. He wasn't in pain.

He and his sissy did what they did best. Tornado-ed our little house and left no walk-able path in their destruction. Brock talks about how that night in the bath he was different. He wasn't sick or cranky. He was somber. I believe that's when the spirits that came to get him told him it's time to go, and he didn't want to. Brock got him out of the tub and snuggled him to sleep one last time. Do I wish I had answers? YES. Why? Would it cause more guilt if I did know? I don't know. It would at least put me at ease with the rest of my children. I wouldn't live in fear that they are ticking time bombs as well.  I wouldn't have an anxiety attack every time I went to check on them while they were sleeping in fear that they are gone too. I would know for sure if it were still in my children's best interest to get vaccinated. Would I still have 'what if's'? I'm sure I would. Everyone has what if's? What if I hadn't let him leave that night? What if I had taught him how to swim better? What if I had been watching closer? What if I had checked on him sooner? If I had answers my 'what if's' would just be different.

So today my roller coaster has thrown me for a loop. I'm not over it. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm broken. So here's to number 2 without you my baby. I'll throw you the best party even though you're not here to celebrate it.