four months ago today the unimaginable happened, cooper died. time behaves differently while one is grieving. in some ways it seems like yesterday that we were at the hospital preparing for cooper's surgery and then in other ways it seems like an eternity since i held cooper in my arms, both versions of time are painful.
last week i felt like the fog was lifting a bit, but this week i am not so sure. i have been unable to get the events of that day out of my mind. us walking into the PICU to see a team of doctors and nurses hovered around cooper, the frantic energy that was in the room, watching cooper's nurse placing the emergent phone call to the operating room to get his surgeon, and the team asking us to leave the room, knowing that the unthinkable was happening. we had only been parents for 3 weeks but we knew we were experiencing every parent's worst nightmare. and then they came in to tell us that he was gone, his heart just stopped working. how do you wrap your mind around that? some days i still cant.
but the memory of that day that breaks my heart all over again, every time i think of it, was holding cooper for the last time. he didn't look like the baby who stole my heart the minute i knew i was pregnant. he was so swollen and heavy from all the fluid. he smelled like chemicals, hospital and death, not the sweet baby scent that i had come to love. no parent should have to hold their dead child. it the most heart wrenching pain i have ever experienced, one that shakes you to the core and makes you question the existence of faith and all that is good.
i don't want to forget that day completely, but i would like some respite from my memories, to have the ability to see some other image when i close my eyes. maybe in this instance time will be my friend. or maybe knowing that a family friend will become a grandmother for the first time today will allow me to have a little bit of faith and with faith comes hope.