9 Months

I wanted to do a post on the 28th but I tried to push the overwhelming emotions back. I knew that if I blogged they would surface and I'd be more of a mess than I was that day.

I miss Dylan so much. It's still so strange that he isn't here sitting in his wheelchair everyday. How am I ever going to get use to this? I wish that I could look over and see him sitting there smiling and laughing.

A year ago today we had gone to Kaiser to have a few tests done on Dylan. I remember him laughing before they put him under.


(I miss that grin, more than words can describe)

I never thought that in just a few months from then he wouldn't be here. The test results had shown that his seizure meds were causing a lot of inflammation to his liver and intestines. That explained why he was so unhappy for the prior 9 months. Since we did the tests, we were able to change his meds. It was great to have our happy Dylan back. He was happy. Content. Life was good. It was hard (in a different way from now), but it was life. I miss everything that comes with raising Dylan. I still don't feel like myself. I don't like that I can cry at nothing. Tears are triggered at random things. I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes. I get so jealous when I see families in tact. I struggle that it's not fair that other people have all their kids here. Safe in their homes. Living. Breathing. I don't mean that in a bad way but it's so hard. When people see our family, they don't see all of us. I desperately want people to know that I have an awesome kid that passed away. He had the best laugh, personality, smile, and countenance about him. There are so many people that I wish could have known him first hand. He's AWESOME!

Back to the 9 month mark. I can't believe it. Has it really been that long since I held my sweet boy? I look at his pictures and still have that feeling that he has to have been real. Meaning that we have his things, photos, hair that we cut at the hospital before we said our goodbyes, handprints, clothes and memories of him, but yet he isn't here. It's so hard to process that he isn't here. While I feel the initial shock wearing off, there has come a whole new set of emotions and thoughts. We are rapidly approaching the birth of our baby and the year mark of Dylan's death. How am I suppose to make sense of that? I want to do something meaningful for his year mark, but am going to be recovering from a c-section. I was thinking of creating a race in honor of Dylan and making a donation to one of the many places that served Dylan. I wouldn't be able to participate so maybe I'll hold off till the 2nd year mark. I'm stuck on this. It bothers me that I don't have anything planned. I need help. I want people to remember him. I NEED them to.

I have so many worries. I struggle everyday. I just told another person about Dylan's death today. She of course got teary eyed. I shared with her how I feel crazy and she told me that I always seem put together. I guess looks are deceiving.

A thought that keeps coming to my mind is: "How am I going to care for this new little one being sent to our family?" We've waited so long for her and at the same time my heart wants my son back. While I am excited to meet her, I'm terrified of so many things. How long will she live? Will she be okay? Will she know that we love her? Will she feel out of place as she gets older since she never got a chance to know Dylan? These are just some of the things that are constantly playing in my head. While everyone's first response is that everything will turn out okay, I beg to differ. I know from first hand experience that things can go wrong. We had no reason to believe that Dylan wouldn't be a healthy, "typical" boy when he was born. I wouldn't have changed anything about him. I joined a whole new world when he was born. After all I went to Holland instead of Italy. (There's a poem that describes what it's like after finding out your child isn't the "typical" kid. You special needs families know what I'm talking about) I also didn't think when I woke up at 4am that Friday, it would be the last time I would see the Dylan I knew. Vibrant. Living. Breathing.

He's taught me so much and I know that I will continue to learn from him. The sense of worry is constantly there. Is Brianna going to be okay? How long do we get to have her here? Will she out live us? I have now met a few families who have had multiple children die. Just because Dylan died, doesn't means our family is exempt from anything else bad happening. There are times that I just wish I could have a guarantee that my daugthers will out live me. I don't think I could bury another child.

I think this has got to be one of the most jumbled posts. My mind is all over the place today. Pray for us.