There is only one person in the world who knows the pain I’m feeling right now.
Only Brandon lost his daughter, Anna on May 20, like I did.
I know he is hurting. For her, and for me. I don’t know what it’s like to hope your wife is alive the next time you see her. And to feel grateful you only lost one family member that day.
I do know I couldn’t do this without him. He has literally held me together with his hands this week. He has said the words that I couldn’t. He filled out a death certificate while I held our baby. He held me when I had to let her go. I don't even remember that moment anymore. I can see he being taken and then nothing, like my memories can't even bear the pain. He held me up when I could not walk on my own, the surgery a cruel reminder of what was gone. He had to do things husbands should never do. And I had to let him, and let go of my last dignity while doing it.Its not a pretty place to be while grieving.
On the hardest morning in the hospital he even kept the nurses out on a vitals round, so I could continue getting the only sleep I had in days. He rubs my feet when they don’t even resemble feet, from all the swelling. I mentioned the shower head at the hospital was soothing on my scar, he had installed a new one in our bathroom the first night home. He bought a lifetime supply of Kleenex, and was upset it wasn’t the “right one” for me. I said I might find blogging therapeutic, he re-bought my old domain and set up my website the next morning.
He is making sure I eat, when I can’t stand the sight of food. Literally asking me till I say I'll eat half a sandwich. He sets reminders for my pain killers, because I can’t remember. He hugs me tight as I cry into my pillow every night. He holds my hand and talks me through every thought I have. He told me "this will not be the last baby we hold in our arms" as I watched him hold our daughter through tears streaming down my face.
The first baby we saw in the hospital, I think he literally wanted to swoop me into his arms and run the other direction, to protect my heart. He’s trying his hardest to fix an impossibly broken human. I know he’s hurting, but you wouldn’t know it, because he’s taking care of me on levels I didn’t know existed.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had said I love you to him, as I was fading in the OR, because we don’t need to say it, we just feel it. He held Anna as long as possible. And now he’s holding me. If I have to walk this road of child loss, at least I do it holding his hand.
edit* after posting this, I just realized he is wearing that same shirt in the photos with Anna, that's how quickly things went from the best day, to the worst.
with love, lissa