A year of grief after the loss of our baby

There is just no way but through.

Over the past year we experienced all the “firsts” without William. Through this blog, we’ve touched upon some of them. They say it is the hardest year to get through. Of course, if you’ve been following our journey, you may have witnessed some of our experiences from intense pain and heartbreak to slowly finding joy again and healing. We are sort of astonished that it’s been one year without our little guy. We never thought this is where we could be.

In the beginning of this year, when we thought of William we usually imagine his cute little smirk. But there were also heart wrenchingly sharp images that made their way into our minds. We wish they didn’t. Watching our baby fight for his life, the look on the NICU resident’s face when we gave the OK to stop resuscitation. Handing our baby to the nurse and watching as she left with him in her arms, knowing we’d never see him again. They are seared into our minds. Even auditory triggers, the monitoring noises from the NICU when we were losing him. The long beep on his heart monitor that followed. The decisions we were faced with in the days after his death. The image of his little white coffin, the feel of it - covered in soft embossed felt - it is something we will never forget.

But we’ve found that if we push these sharp images to the back burner, there will be more room to remember him in all the beautiful ways in which he existed.  The feel of his head on our lips, the touch of his back, the clench of his hand around our index fingers, the way he would kick the moment we started reading to him in bed while pregnant. These are the memories we push to the front and try and focus on when remembering our sweet William.

Many friends and family have stuck by our sides this year. Some relationships have lifted us up in ways we never expected. Some of you simply have the capacity to deal with it. Call it courage, call it empathy - we call it love. We feel extremely lucky that you all have stuck with us and it is so heartwarming to hear that you have been strengthened through William’s story.

We have also turned to God this year. He’s the main reason we believe we’ve healed the way we have. Yes, we still have questions, but we are learning to focus not on those questions (why, why, why) - those are the questions that will only haunt us. We instead give it up to God. Even if we did know why, would it make us feel any better? Would it change the fact he died? We know he is with God and that brings us peace and comfort when sometimes nothing else can.

Over the past year we sold our house and moved closer to the city, setting off on a fresh start. We traveled too. All we wanted was to run away and we were set to make it happen. The more we tried to escape it all, the more we realized that grief follows you wherever you go. And comes back with a vengeance crashing over you like a wave. You cannot escape it. We found that out time and time again. No matter where we were, whether it be on a train, in a cafe, on our hotel's balcony, we could be swept up in tears anywhere.  We're learning to live with grief and even embrace it as it becomes a part of us.

We remember thinking, after a long trip to Europe, that maybe we’d come home and it would all be a dream, a nightmare we would wake from. The hospital would alert us they have William, safe and sound, there was some sort of confusion, they were terribly sorry, and we could pick him up. We’d strap the carseat in, go get him, and start our lives up again, the lives we should have had. Ridiculous, we know. That’s how this year felt sometimes. Totally, impossibly, unbelievable that he wasn’t living anymore. That we never got to bring him home. That his outfits remain unworn. His little feet never even touched the ground. Yesterday, we baked a birthday cake for our baby knowing he would never be able to sink his fingers in and make a complete mess.

Somehow we find solace by facing these truths and are discovering a newfound courage to accept them and move forward toward a bright future.

Over the past year we loved hard. Each other, our family, friends, especially our William. Without knowing what tragedies someone may be experiencing, we have tried to be kind to everyone we met and treat others as we wanted to be treated. We’ve noticed how much we have grown this year. In ways we feel ancient having experienced this loss we were never prepared for. We’ve also noticed a change in all of you. The way we are able to slip his name into conversation during family gatherings - it speaks volumes.  We were so afraid he wouldn’t be considered part of the family or that people would forget him. We know now this could never happen. You guys won’t let it. We want you to know that your thoughtful actions never go unnoticed. Thank you.