The first week of school doesn’t mean the same anymore to me. It used to be only about the hustle and bustle of getting in routines, fresh starts, learning new names and faces, and honestly retraining my body to stand all day…not anymore. Although for the past 2 years, those events have still been a part of what I do, my mind truly isn’t in it.
The closer Wyatt’s Day comes, the more my heart is unsteady and my mind is unsettled. He’s on my mind constantly, but as August 18 creeps up, I am taken to a different place. I’m reminded of the sheer pain that day brought to me and my family. It is this week that I typically find myself questioning more. As I retrace my steps leading up to being in that hospital bed where no one could find his heartbeat, I’m wondering all of the “what ifs” and “should haves.” Some call that torture; I call it reality. “What if I had pushed for an early induction date? Would it have mattered? I should have known something was wrong. I am his mother after all and he was inside of me. ” Now, the logical side of me knows that these questions are and will only ever be hypothetical, but they are my inner voice, especially during this time of year.
Wyatt would have been 2 this past Thursday. The house would have had balloons in it and streamer hung, just like it was every birthday for me when I was growing up. We would have had a small family celebration that evening and then partied hard, probably today…even in the rain. Last night I would have been working tirelessly to ensure he had an awesome birthday cake to highlight the theme we chose for his party. This morning I would be reminding my oldest often that today isn’t about him and that the presents brought over are for his brother, not him. It would have been a great time with family and friends and this evening, I would be exhausted.
This is how Wyatt’s Day went instead. On Thursday, my husband and I went to work exhausted from no sleep and not in the best of moods. I gather we both went to work, because that was our planned distraction for the day. After work, I picked up balloons and fresh flowers and we took them out to his grave. The cemetery was unfortunately preparing for the burial of another baby near Wyatt, so we simply put out our gifts and left. We picked up dinner and went home. Today, we aren’t doing much of anything. There are no signs or symbols in our home that we celebrated or even mourned a child this week. It goes on like all of the other days have since we came home without him.
This year we did supply gifts, though. Several people donated money and with that money, we purchased items for hospitals to use and give to any other families that unfortunately lose a baby. I was glad that we were able to offer the items in honor of Wyatt.
This week takes it all out of me, because true sadness is exhausting. Oh, how I miss my baby on his day and every day in between. I’m so thankful for the time I had with him, but it will never be enough. With love-Heather