We finally walked into our own home for the first time since I entered the hospital in late April. It was now May 10th. I went straight for the nursery. There it was. Our beautiful nursery so clean and pure in its blue, pink and white. I looked at the empty crib. I turned on the mobile to hear the music that broke the silence. We cried. My arms never felt so empty. My body's mothering senses had kicked in full speed ahead and I had no baby to hold and mother. James had suggested that we might want to take down the nursery. I panicked. Never! My baby had been taken away, but the nursery would remain until ......well until. Nobody better slip in and touch a thing! I went out on our patio to lie on a lounge chair. I watched as James brought out some of the azaleas friends had sent us. We arranged and then re-arranged where they should be planted. My neighbor, Jenny brought her sweet daughter whom James and I adored. She hugged us and asked where my baby was. How do you explain this to a three year old when you don't even understand yourself? As simply as possible. They left. We were glad they came over.
Later that night, after we were in bed, it started raining for the first time since baby James' funeral. Were the tents still up to keep him dry? Would he be chilly? I began to get frantic with worry! I woke up James. He reminded me the baby was fine. I still worried and went back to the task of trying to sleep. All of a sudden in the night I awoke with a startle. I heard a sweet angelic voice saying the word mother. I sat up in bed. There at the foot of our bed was my baby son floating above the bed. He even had on the blue outfit with the white kite on it that he was buried in! I clearly remember his saying with kindness but also authority, "Mother, do not not worry about me! Don't you know that I am with my Father in Heaven?" He disappeared. That message was for me. I was not to worry. My son was safe with God. He was just fine. It was me that was a wreck full of grief. I never did worry over my baby's well-being again. It was my grief I had to contend with now.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Cruelty Beyond Cruel
Lunch is being served in the den and I am finally able to eat a little. I can see through the window as James drives up. He comes through the front door with a small grin, gives me a kiss and brings out of his pocket a little package wrapped in noticeable Jewel Box paper and bow. James looks into my eyes and tells me ( we are alone) that this is for me from him and James, Jr. in honor my first Mother's Day which is Sunday. I open it up and there is a beautiful emerald ring with diamonds. It is just perfect! Not too big or small....just perfect and it fits! I was so excited and very moved at this unexpected gift that I start up with the crying again....but with a peak of happiness and joy in spite of my grief. That was my James, so loving and thoughtful. How could he even think of picking out a ring for me during his own grief? But he did think of me, the mother of his firstborn son, his namesake. My MIL mother walked in about this time wanting to know what all the commotion was about. I showed her my ring with joy! My gift remembrance of our stillborn son from James The first words out of her mouth to me was that I couldn't accept that expensive ring! She said I shouldn't expect James to have to pay for this kind of gift. What? Why did she have to be so negative and mean? I hated her for ruining my special gift! And she did ruin it. She went on and on about we needed the money to put on a new house and the bills it would entail. I relented with her guilt trip and asked James to take the ring back for something less expensive. Perhaps a baby charm to wear around my neck. So that is what he did.
Friday came. It marked the one week anniversary of James, Jr.'s stillbirth. I was in a real funk. James and I wanted to spend the day by our son's grave and then go home to our home. Oh no! We were to stay at my in-laws until Sunday. I am weak with grief and so is James. What could another night or two do? As we soon learned, alot! Sunday morning arrived and we prepared to go home. After my morning soak, my MIL tossed an outfit at me. She told me I was not to put on maternity clothes anymore, but regular clothes. This outfit had elastic pants and I should be fine. I told her I was just going to wear my robe as we were going straight home. Oh no we weren't. She informed James and me that we were going over to JA's house because she was having the family over for a Mother's Day lunch. What I needed was going home to suffer through Mother's Day by myself, not in front of a bunch of people glaring at the mother of the dead baby! Unfortunately, when a baby dies, people do look at your every move to see how you react to things. It is not that I imagine this, it is reality. It happens! My MIL was relentless is hammering away at us about going. Then James said that we would drop by for a little while. I could not believe my ears. James just didn't want trouble. Neither did I, but look who kept causing it? The strain of what happened in the next few hours caused me years of emotional trauma. Before we left the house to go the Mother's Day lunch, my MIL pulled me aside and said that I was to never speak of my my baby again in her house, around her or my FIL, friends, our minister or anyone else. They wouldn't want to hear my woes. It would embarrass the Fitts family name, and most of all I was not to burden James with talk of the baby. He had to get to work and not have to be worrying about me. I can not begin to express how I felt at that moment. It was unbelievable! I was flooded with all kinds of emotions. The hurt was like a knife just chopping me up into tiny pieces. Here was a woman I thought loved me and cared for me. I had not only loss my son that week, but the mother-in-law that I had loved and looked up to for the past five years. I just had no idea she could be so cruel. But she was going to get that knife out again at the luncheon and finish me off.
I felt like a fish out of water at a Mother's Day lunch just a week after I had buried my son. My mind was in a whirl. Why did JA have to have a big affair about Mother's Day this year? She never had before. Why did I have to attend? Why did she have to invite so many people that I didn't even know? Why she had turned this into one big party! I endured the lunch at the dining room table with the silver, best linens, flowers, gift table to one side, laughter and such. THEN MY MIL SAID IN FRONT OF ME THE CRUELEST OF ALL THINGS AS PRESENTS WERE BEING OPENED BY THE OTHER MOTHER THERE FROM THEIR CHILDREN....... AND I QUOTE, " ISN'T BEING A MOTHER THE MOST WONDERFUL THING EVER?" May God have mercy on you woman for being so cruel. You too, JA because you just had to have the party!
I got up and walked out of the house. James followed. My MIL wanted to know where we were going. I mumbled something about sitting too long for my hurting bottom. I have never gotten over the trauma of those words, that party, and the denial of my son's birth. I went home delirious. My mind went wild. I couldn't cope with my son's death and the way I was treated. I had always been a good and thoughtful DIL. Where was this coming from? I never got an answer or apology. I didn't go back to her house or see her for many many months. James did, but not me! Then really bad trouble came when my SIL AW, brought her baby to town, remember the baby she told me she was pregnant with less than an hour after mine had died?
Friday came. It marked the one week anniversary of James, Jr.'s stillbirth. I was in a real funk. James and I wanted to spend the day by our son's grave and then go home to our home. Oh no! We were to stay at my in-laws until Sunday. I am weak with grief and so is James. What could another night or two do? As we soon learned, alot! Sunday morning arrived and we prepared to go home. After my morning soak, my MIL tossed an outfit at me. She told me I was not to put on maternity clothes anymore, but regular clothes. This outfit had elastic pants and I should be fine. I told her I was just going to wear my robe as we were going straight home. Oh no we weren't. She informed James and me that we were going over to JA's house because she was having the family over for a Mother's Day lunch. What I needed was going home to suffer through Mother's Day by myself, not in front of a bunch of people glaring at the mother of the dead baby! Unfortunately, when a baby dies, people do look at your every move to see how you react to things. It is not that I imagine this, it is reality. It happens! My MIL was relentless is hammering away at us about going. Then James said that we would drop by for a little while. I could not believe my ears. James just didn't want trouble. Neither did I, but look who kept causing it? The strain of what happened in the next few hours caused me years of emotional trauma. Before we left the house to go the Mother's Day lunch, my MIL pulled me aside and said that I was to never speak of my my baby again in her house, around her or my FIL, friends, our minister or anyone else. They wouldn't want to hear my woes. It would embarrass the Fitts family name, and most of all I was not to burden James with talk of the baby. He had to get to work and not have to be worrying about me. I can not begin to express how I felt at that moment. It was unbelievable! I was flooded with all kinds of emotions. The hurt was like a knife just chopping me up into tiny pieces. Here was a woman I thought loved me and cared for me. I had not only loss my son that week, but the mother-in-law that I had loved and looked up to for the past five years. I just had no idea she could be so cruel. But she was going to get that knife out again at the luncheon and finish me off.
I felt like a fish out of water at a Mother's Day lunch just a week after I had buried my son. My mind was in a whirl. Why did JA have to have a big affair about Mother's Day this year? She never had before. Why did I have to attend? Why did she have to invite so many people that I didn't even know? Why she had turned this into one big party! I endured the lunch at the dining room table with the silver, best linens, flowers, gift table to one side, laughter and such. THEN MY MIL SAID IN FRONT OF ME THE CRUELEST OF ALL THINGS AS PRESENTS WERE BEING OPENED BY THE OTHER MOTHER THERE FROM THEIR CHILDREN....... AND I QUOTE, " ISN'T BEING A MOTHER THE MOST WONDERFUL THING EVER?" May God have mercy on you woman for being so cruel. You too, JA because you just had to have the party!
I got up and walked out of the house. James followed. My MIL wanted to know where we were going. I mumbled something about sitting too long for my hurting bottom. I have never gotten over the trauma of those words, that party, and the denial of my son's birth. I went home delirious. My mind went wild. I couldn't cope with my son's death and the way I was treated. I had always been a good and thoughtful DIL. Where was this coming from? I never got an answer or apology. I didn't go back to her house or see her for many many months. James did, but not me! Then really bad trouble came when my SIL AW, brought her baby to town, remember the baby she told me she was pregnant with less than an hour after mine had died?
Friday, December 7, 2012
Dedicated to Those That Take the Time to Help the Grieving
I honestly was amazed by the graciousness of so many people. Food and flowers arrived in great abundance. I was thankful to be remembered in my time of mourning. Friends came out of the wood work to visit me. Some even told me that they had loss their own baby and had just never talked about it. I wanted to hear every word about their loss because I needed to know I wasn't the only woman that had to bury her child. I hurt for them as they revealed their ordeals. It was healing to me. I think it was for them also. Do you remember my friend that went into labor and we rode up the elevator to maternity together? Remember how jealous I was of her? She sent me flowers. I learned shortly after getting those flowers that her daughter, which had been born alive and crying, had now been diagnosed with Downs Syndrome. My heart went out to her. We are still friends many years later and her daughter has been such a blessing to us all.
I was physically feeling better now even though it had been less than a week since I delivered. I was over-whelmed with cards and letters. I read each of the messages so intently. So many people taking their time to write me, come visit, make food or order flowers. I was humbled. Their gestures were so appreciated.
I have kept every card, note, gift book, little cards off of the flowers, and the list of who brought food and what they brought for over thirty-seven years now. I get them out more often than you would think and go over every word. They still touch me today as they did then. I guard these treasures and have taken them with me every time we have moved or been evacuated for hurricanes as we live on the coast of NC. One friend in particular that I grew up with wrote me two different cards filled up with her wise and loving words. Later in life she faced her own tradegy. First, her husband died of a heart attack at a young age. Just a very few years later, one of her two sons was killed in a car wreck when he was about 18 or 19 years old. How does one deal with that? My heart aches for her even now.
I guess this post is just dedicated to the people who HELP those grieving either by written words or visits or flowers. THANK YOU! May God bless you for taking your time to help. I am living proof that your acts of kindness live on long after the tradegy takes place.
I was physically feeling better now even though it had been less than a week since I delivered. I was over-whelmed with cards and letters. I read each of the messages so intently. So many people taking their time to write me, come visit, make food or order flowers. I was humbled. Their gestures were so appreciated.
I have kept every card, note, gift book, little cards off of the flowers, and the list of who brought food and what they brought for over thirty-seven years now. I get them out more often than you would think and go over every word. They still touch me today as they did then. I guard these treasures and have taken them with me every time we have moved or been evacuated for hurricanes as we live on the coast of NC. One friend in particular that I grew up with wrote me two different cards filled up with her wise and loving words. Later in life she faced her own tradegy. First, her husband died of a heart attack at a young age. Just a very few years later, one of her two sons was killed in a car wreck when he was about 18 or 19 years old. How does one deal with that? My heart aches for her even now.
I guess this post is just dedicated to the people who HELP those grieving either by written words or visits or flowers. THANK YOU! May God bless you for taking your time to help. I am living proof that your acts of kindness live on long after the tradegy takes place.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Physical and Emotional Trauma Day Three After James, Jr.'s Birth
James and I came back to his parents' home after he took me to our son's grave. I went straight upstairs without acknowledging them. They knew I was extremely upset about being kept from my son's funeral and I THINK my MIL knew she had done wrong in making that decision for me.......no she wasn't. At the moment I hated her. I had never been impolite to them before now. I had been married to her son for 5 years and had always loved her, but in this moment I hated her. I was so full of grief for losing my first born son over something as stupid as a knot in his cord! A stupid knot! Grief set in big time. I didn't want to eat, couldn't sleep at night, just stared at the four walls because the curtains were drawn. I didn't talk to anyone but James. Leave me alone in my grief because you don't get it!
But oh no! My MIL decides for the first ever to throw James a birthday party the day after our son was buried! She invited James' brother and his wife, who had not spoken to me since my baby had died. JA and I had never gotten along from day one. JA didn't even like the other SIL in the family. She had told James after we were married that she didn't like me. Soon the feeling became mutual. I think she wanted my MIL for herself. She also invited my other SIL I'll call AW whom I had always been great friends with, until she walked into my hospital room announcing she was pregnant. So here was a celebration of my MIL's son's birth the day after his own son had been buried. Did she once think about how James might of felt about this? How about me? A party.....Really???? Get real! I was greatly pressured to go downstairs to the dining room, sit across from the SIL from hell and my prego SIL. Everyone talked about life as though I were not in the room. A big beautiful cake was brought out to James with real flowers decorating the top...pink ones on white icing. James blew out all 25 candles. I excused myself saying the chair was too hard for my sore bottom. I went back upstairs, took pain pills and I think I slept 'til the morning.
Ahhhhhh......the next morning. The maid came bursting in my room. James was gone to work. Oh yes! His mother had said he needed to go to work to get things off of his mind and leave me to her. He left and I don't recall seeing him leave. I was brought breakfast in bed. Never touched it. I was in horrible pain! My milk had come in even though I had been given a shot to dry it up. It was just pouring out and no baby for it. I cried. I was so swollen from the trauma to my body that I couldn't pee. I was in agony!!! I had to get into a warm tub for some relief. My body looked horrible....still pregnant looking, big milky boobs and I wanted some privacy. Charging in the bathroom without knocking (no lock on the door) was AW, the prego SIL. She looked at me and said how awful I looked and was that what pregnancy did to your body! Get out!!! My breast were bound and I had to be helped out of the tub. Ladies, I was bad off. My stitches hurt. My heart hurt.
My emotions were all over the place. I got back into bed. Please help me my dear God. Oh Jesus, please take care of my baby. I know how much you love the little children.
By then, company started arriving. First, Marshall, our minister for forever. I was suppose to walk down the stairs to see him. I said no way. If he wanted to see me, he was welcome to come upstairs. It wasn't as though the house wasn't clean and just so beautifully decorated as my in-laws were well off. No, my MIL insisted I go downstairs. Now this going up and down the stairs from the woman who said I wasn't well enough to go to my own son's funeral? How was it that I was all of a sudden miraculously cured??? My morning was going rough physically as it was and I did not go downstairs. The minister left. MIL was livid! I just closed my eyes, turned over and closed my tearing eyes. My MIL had not even mentioned my loss to me... just a get over it attitude. That night, she asked james to try to talk some sense into me. I just wondered what her neighbors and friends would think of her now, but she kept these things privately and so did I, until now, 37 years later.
But oh no! My MIL decides for the first ever to throw James a birthday party the day after our son was buried! She invited James' brother and his wife, who had not spoken to me since my baby had died. JA and I had never gotten along from day one. JA didn't even like the other SIL in the family. She had told James after we were married that she didn't like me. Soon the feeling became mutual. I think she wanted my MIL for herself. She also invited my other SIL I'll call AW whom I had always been great friends with, until she walked into my hospital room announcing she was pregnant. So here was a celebration of my MIL's son's birth the day after his own son had been buried. Did she once think about how James might of felt about this? How about me? A party.....Really???? Get real! I was greatly pressured to go downstairs to the dining room, sit across from the SIL from hell and my prego SIL. Everyone talked about life as though I were not in the room. A big beautiful cake was brought out to James with real flowers decorating the top...pink ones on white icing. James blew out all 25 candles. I excused myself saying the chair was too hard for my sore bottom. I went back upstairs, took pain pills and I think I slept 'til the morning.
Ahhhhhh......the next morning. The maid came bursting in my room. James was gone to work. Oh yes! His mother had said he needed to go to work to get things off of his mind and leave me to her. He left and I don't recall seeing him leave. I was brought breakfast in bed. Never touched it. I was in horrible pain! My milk had come in even though I had been given a shot to dry it up. It was just pouring out and no baby for it. I cried. I was so swollen from the trauma to my body that I couldn't pee. I was in agony!!! I had to get into a warm tub for some relief. My body looked horrible....still pregnant looking, big milky boobs and I wanted some privacy. Charging in the bathroom without knocking (no lock on the door) was AW, the prego SIL. She looked at me and said how awful I looked and was that what pregnancy did to your body! Get out!!! My breast were bound and I had to be helped out of the tub. Ladies, I was bad off. My stitches hurt. My heart hurt.
My emotions were all over the place. I got back into bed. Please help me my dear God. Oh Jesus, please take care of my baby. I know how much you love the little children.
By then, company started arriving. First, Marshall, our minister for forever. I was suppose to walk down the stairs to see him. I said no way. If he wanted to see me, he was welcome to come upstairs. It wasn't as though the house wasn't clean and just so beautifully decorated as my in-laws were well off. No, my MIL insisted I go downstairs. Now this going up and down the stairs from the woman who said I wasn't well enough to go to my own son's funeral? How was it that I was all of a sudden miraculously cured??? My morning was going rough physically as it was and I did not go downstairs. The minister left. MIL was livid! I just closed my eyes, turned over and closed my tearing eyes. My MIL had not even mentioned my loss to me... just a get over it attitude. That night, she asked james to try to talk some sense into me. I just wondered what her neighbors and friends would think of her now, but she kept these things privately and so did I, until now, 37 years later.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
And Then They Came Home From My Son's Funeral
I heard the front door downstairs open. People were pouring in the house after the funeral. I wanted to see James so he could explain why I was left behind. I also wanted to know every single detail about the funeral down to the very smallest tiniest thing that went on. My family began coming up to my room, sister by sister and also my brother with their own families. They were all very comforting and loving to me. The first to see me was my twin sister. She wanted to know why I didn't come to the funeral even though my family had been told my MIL's reasonings. My twin just thought I would fight to be there. She didn't know nor did anyone in my family know that I didn't know what was going on until after the fact. My twin was furious! My whole family was when they found out. They just did their best to comfort me because there was no changing now what had been done. I would have to live with not attending my son's funeral for the rest of my life. That was 37 years ago. I still struggle with it at the age of 62. I was 24 when my son died. My daddy came into my room, put his arms around me and just cried. I had never seen my daddy cry like that. We both cried together. My mother walked in as daddy and I were crying. She didn't like what she saw. She didn't think we should be crying like that and said so. What was up with the two women I depended upon most? My MIL was acting unlike herself and now my mama! I would have thought the two of them would have understood most of all! It was like my son's death had cramped their life! Mama did beg me to come home to Washington with her and daddy so she could care for me. I was once again torn. I did want to go back home with them, get in my bed there, let my mama take care of me. I wanted to see my friends back home in Washington, my neighbors there, church friends, school friends and their mama's plus my sisters were there! It would have been such a comfort, but I couldn't do it. I think that was why mama was so upset. I just could not leave my baby or James and go to another town away from them. Plus, physically I was in no shape to travel the hour and half to get there. So, I didn't go. I regretted that decision and it haunts me to this day. I do believe I would have gotten the mental and emotional care I needed if I had of gone home with mama and daddy. I believe I would have healed quicker because I would have been surrounded by friends and family that cared about my well- being. If only I could have taken my son with me...I know that sounds morbid.
Finally, the house cleared. I was so very sad to see my family go, but now I could talk in private with James. His mother had pulled him aside just before the funeral and told him that she needed to talk with him. She said that since she had been an RN (back in the day) that she knew the dangers of my hemorrhaging at the funeral and that I would die before reaching the hospital. Well, that scared James. He did remind his mom that Dr. Forbes had said I would be safe. She said she knew better and I stood a good chance of bleeding out if I went. Not wanting to chance it, James went along with his mother. I could understand James being scared, but that didn't stop me from what I did next. I put on a robe, walked down the stairs never looking or speaking as I passed my in-laws, opened the door and walked straight to our car where James helped me get in. He took me to our son's grave site. I burst into tears when I saw the little mound of dirt covered with flowers. James helped me to lay down by his little grave. Between sobs and sobs of tears streaming down both of our faces, I saw little blue lambs, baby pink roses, and many other flowers. Who had sent them? Who was at the funeral? It hadn't even been in our hometown paper yet. Who would know to come? James told me all he could remember about the funeral. As he had walked to his chair, his dad had to hold him up because he was weeping so hard. James said he could barely walk. He doesn't remember much about seeing anyone since his eyes were blurred with tears. Our minister gave the graveside service, but James doesn't remember a word. I was very frustrated because I wanted to know what I had missed and James couldn't tell me. He did get to say good-bye. His dad had to lift him off of our child's casket and back to the funeral home's car. I wanted to get get the chance to do that! I needed to cry at my child's funeral, to see his flower covered casket. What kind of flowers were on the casket? James couldn't tell me. My sister later tried to remember to help fill in the details, but I wanted the details that only a mother would pick out to remember. While we were at the grave, out of the blue two little old ladies appeared out of know where. Now when I say "out of no where, I mean it!" Our son's grave was in a new section of the cemetery. It was clear all around it. You had to walk to get to it on just plain empty land. You would have seen someone coming. But there they were. They were like angels. They told us that God doesn't make mistakes. James was just in awe of what they said. He was even more so when they just disappeared as quickly as they appeared. Now two elderly ladies would have been slow walking and we would have seen them walking away. But we didn't. They were just "gone!" To this very day, we both know without a shadow of doubt that these ladies were angels sent by God to comfort us. James often speaks about this. We took our time at the grave with our son, mostly weeping more tears than we thought possible. It was a warm sunny spring day, May 3, 1975. It was the day our son had been buried.
Finally, the house cleared. I was so very sad to see my family go, but now I could talk in private with James. His mother had pulled him aside just before the funeral and told him that she needed to talk with him. She said that since she had been an RN (back in the day) that she knew the dangers of my hemorrhaging at the funeral and that I would die before reaching the hospital. Well, that scared James. He did remind his mom that Dr. Forbes had said I would be safe. She said she knew better and I stood a good chance of bleeding out if I went. Not wanting to chance it, James went along with his mother. I could understand James being scared, but that didn't stop me from what I did next. I put on a robe, walked down the stairs never looking or speaking as I passed my in-laws, opened the door and walked straight to our car where James helped me get in. He took me to our son's grave site. I burst into tears when I saw the little mound of dirt covered with flowers. James helped me to lay down by his little grave. Between sobs and sobs of tears streaming down both of our faces, I saw little blue lambs, baby pink roses, and many other flowers. Who had sent them? Who was at the funeral? It hadn't even been in our hometown paper yet. Who would know to come? James told me all he could remember about the funeral. As he had walked to his chair, his dad had to hold him up because he was weeping so hard. James said he could barely walk. He doesn't remember much about seeing anyone since his eyes were blurred with tears. Our minister gave the graveside service, but James doesn't remember a word. I was very frustrated because I wanted to know what I had missed and James couldn't tell me. He did get to say good-bye. His dad had to lift him off of our child's casket and back to the funeral home's car. I wanted to get get the chance to do that! I needed to cry at my child's funeral, to see his flower covered casket. What kind of flowers were on the casket? James couldn't tell me. My sister later tried to remember to help fill in the details, but I wanted the details that only a mother would pick out to remember. While we were at the grave, out of the blue two little old ladies appeared out of know where. Now when I say "out of no where, I mean it!" Our son's grave was in a new section of the cemetery. It was clear all around it. You had to walk to get to it on just plain empty land. You would have seen someone coming. But there they were. They were like angels. They told us that God doesn't make mistakes. James was just in awe of what they said. He was even more so when they just disappeared as quickly as they appeared. Now two elderly ladies would have been slow walking and we would have seen them walking away. But we didn't. They were just "gone!" To this very day, we both know without a shadow of doubt that these ladies were angels sent by God to comfort us. James often speaks about this. We took our time at the grave with our son, mostly weeping more tears than we thought possible. It was a warm sunny spring day, May 3, 1975. It was the day our son had been buried.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
They Quietly Left For My Son's Funeral Without Letting Me Know
I was upstairs resting while waiting to leave for my son's funeral. My sister called me from the funeral home where my family had gathered to view my son. Remember how James and I had closed the casket? My family asked if I would tell the funeral director to open it for my side of the family. I was in anguish again! Of course I wanted them to see sweet little baby James, but I was torn! James and I wanted to be the last ones to see him........oh what should I do? I love my family so much and they had driven from all over NC to come. What to do? Why hadn't they come earlier to view? It broke my heart, but I said no, don't open the casket. I was afraid they might find something about him to criticize as my SIL had done. I don't think they would, but my mind was in a daze. Right or wrong, I had made the decision. I can say now looking back, that I regret not letting my family see sweet baby James. I hope they have understood and forgiven me.
My next door neighbor and best friend, Jenny was with me upstairs as I lay in resting mode. Mrs. Fitts' best friend, Lois Rook, was also with Jenny to keep me company. I loved both of these women so much and was glad to have their company. I was reading in The News & Observer my baby's obituary, when the time of the funeral, 2:00, reminded me that it must be time to get ready. I looked for the clock in the bedroom to see what time it was. The clock was gone that had always been by that bedside stand. I asked Lois and Jenny would they help me get ready and to check on the time. That is when I heard the most horrible news ever! Everyone had gone to the funeral and left me, the mother of the child being buried behind! I jumped up in a fury! I told Jenny to drive me to the cemetery that minute!!! I can't begin to put into words the betrayal and raging anger I felt! Lois and Jenny held me down and I fought them and cursed them. They told me that my MIL (yes, her again!!!) had said that she was afraid that I might hemmorage during the service and die, so they were told to keep me busy while the others quickly and quietly left for the funeral. My baby was having a funeral I was being kept from! I needed to be at the funeral! I needed this experience or closure. They were robbing me of this! The only reson the doctor released me from the hospital was because he knew I needed this for healing purposes! Why did James and MY family let my MIL get away with this???? Mama! Why didn't YOU help me from that woman??? I fought and fought until the horrible afterbirth pains started again. Pain killers weren't helping. I made Lois and Jenny leave me alone. I made it to the bathroom to get me a hot water bottle to put on my belly to ease the pain. They almost stroked out when they saw it. How was I supposed to know the heat could cause me to hemmorage andbesides at this point in time I didn't really care. I just wanted to be with my baby to say good-bye before they lowered him into the deep dark ground and put all of that dirt on top of him. Oh God in Heaven! Please be with my son! Keep him safe! Welcome him into your waiting arms! I just fell into a fetal position and cried my grieving angry heart out! I would never forgive my mother-in-law for going against my doctor's orders and keeping me from my firstborn son's funeral! James would hear about it. Everyone would! Just you wait til they got back! Nice Gale was gone. The fury of a mother's grief was in me and would be for a very very long time.
My next door neighbor and best friend, Jenny was with me upstairs as I lay in resting mode. Mrs. Fitts' best friend, Lois Rook, was also with Jenny to keep me company. I loved both of these women so much and was glad to have their company. I was reading in The News & Observer my baby's obituary, when the time of the funeral, 2:00, reminded me that it must be time to get ready. I looked for the clock in the bedroom to see what time it was. The clock was gone that had always been by that bedside stand. I asked Lois and Jenny would they help me get ready and to check on the time. That is when I heard the most horrible news ever! Everyone had gone to the funeral and left me, the mother of the child being buried behind! I jumped up in a fury! I told Jenny to drive me to the cemetery that minute!!! I can't begin to put into words the betrayal and raging anger I felt! Lois and Jenny held me down and I fought them and cursed them. They told me that my MIL (yes, her again!!!) had said that she was afraid that I might hemmorage during the service and die, so they were told to keep me busy while the others quickly and quietly left for the funeral. My baby was having a funeral I was being kept from! I needed to be at the funeral! I needed this experience or closure. They were robbing me of this! The only reson the doctor released me from the hospital was because he knew I needed this for healing purposes! Why did James and MY family let my MIL get away with this???? Mama! Why didn't YOU help me from that woman??? I fought and fought until the horrible afterbirth pains started again. Pain killers weren't helping. I made Lois and Jenny leave me alone. I made it to the bathroom to get me a hot water bottle to put on my belly to ease the pain. They almost stroked out when they saw it. How was I supposed to know the heat could cause me to hemmorage andbesides at this point in time I didn't really care. I just wanted to be with my baby to say good-bye before they lowered him into the deep dark ground and put all of that dirt on top of him. Oh God in Heaven! Please be with my son! Keep him safe! Welcome him into your waiting arms! I just fell into a fetal position and cried my grieving angry heart out! I would never forgive my mother-in-law for going against my doctor's orders and keeping me from my firstborn son's funeral! James would hear about it. Everyone would! Just you wait til they got back! Nice Gale was gone. The fury of a mother's grief was in me and would be for a very very long time.
Leaving the Hospital and Going By the Funeral Home
Dr. Forbes came into my hospital room late Friday night, after my morning delivery. He told me that if everything went well with me physically during the night, he would discharge me the next morning so I could attend my baby's funeral. I asked him if that was safe for me and he told me yes. I was beside myself that I would be able to go to James, Jr.'s funeral! I ate my supper and anything else the nurses recommended to make me stronger. I wanted the "go ahead" from the doctor the next day! I needed to show my strength!
The next morning came and I was discharged!!! Before leaving the hospital, my mother-in-law (MIL) came into my room.....room 202, I'll never forget that room number. I was alone when she walked through my door, crying to myself. How normal was that? Very normal for a new mother whose son was to be buried that day! She was very stern asking me why was I crying. I said that I missed my baby and was crying over my loss. She told me that I had better stop my crying, my baby had died yesterday and from now on she had better not see me crying anymore! What had happened yesterday was over and I needed to get on with my life for the sake of my husband, James, and everyone else. Nobody liked being around a grieving woman. I could not believe my ears! Why would she say that? I told her it was normal for me to be crying and I would continue to do so, as nicely as I could utter the words. It wasn't exactly as if I had control over my spilling tears! Then, she left my room. I thought to myself how she was acting so strangely. She was otherwise such a compassionate woman, but now she was acting just plain mean. James came in shortly, and we were on our way out of the hospital.
Funny how all of the mothers appeared to be leaving with their newborns at the same time. It seems the staff would let the mother leaving with empty arms go first to spare her watching the other happy mothers with their arms wrapped around their babies. But no, dig it in and twist the knife already in my heavy aching heart and empty arms by putting me in the elevator with these other mothers full of laughter and joy. Look, I am truly happy for them. I wouldn't wish my pain on my worse enemy. No one should suffer like I was! I mean, James and I were so numb with grief that we couldn't make small talk or force a smile if we tried! As for the other mothers, how could they have known that our son had died? Thank goodness for finally being able to get into our car and drive away.
We didn't drive home. Instead, James took me straight to the funeral home so I could be with our son. Embedded in my heart and mind forever is what happend next. As we pulled up, I saw my sister-in-law and my best friend, Jenny with her. James got out of the car and came to my side to help me out. I was slow moving since I was carrying with me a zillion stitches. As we were taking baby steps inching our way towards the doors, my sister-in-law spoke out that we should just go and not come in to see our son because he looked really bad. What? She could see my son and I couldn't? Who was she to tell me that my son "looked bad?" I remember just falling against a tree and crying against the bark with cars passing by. What could have happened to my baby to make him look so bad that I shouldn't see him? He was perfect yesterday. Jenny motioned for us to come on in and we did. I truly loved Jenny and still do. The funeral home director, dear Mr. Branch, had a chair by the casket waiting for me. We came closer and looked into the small white casket. There was our beautiful son. He still looked perfect! He seemed to have a tiny smile on his lips. His hair was light brown. He looked so much like my sister's son, Todd. There was a small triangular tear in his skin on his left wrist, but I already knew about that. It happened right after delivery. Was that what my SIL talking about? It was so small in the scheme of things! I reached in the casket to touch my son and felt his cold skin. I straightened out his already straightened outfit, the blue one with the kite on it. Where was his yellow pillow that played "Rock-a- bye Baby? He needed that! Where was the white receiving blanket to warm his cold skin? I asked for these comfort items that belonged to James, Jr. to be here in his casket for him! James quietly told me that his mother said, "not to waste them because we would want them for our next baby!" What? I am the hurting mother of this child and I should be the one making decisions for my baby! Why are people making everything so much harder for me? I was trying to be nice and considerate of them. Give me just a little break here please! Who knows better for me and my son than me, his mom? I was mad now mixed in with the grief. There was nothing in the casket but my son, and all I wanted was some baby things with him. My bottom was hurting, my heart was hurting and now I was angry. This was not a time to provoke a mother looking at her dead son. I reached into the casket to pick up my son to hold him. I heard gasps from around the room. What people??? I am just going to hold my son that after today I will never be able to hold again! He was heavy, so Mr. Branch was about to help me when "you know who walked in", my MIL. She stopped everything saying it was time to leave so we could eat before the funeral. She was frying chicken and needed to get home to attend it. She wanted plenty of food for all of the people (she meant my large family) who were coming in. Forget the chicken! Let the neighbors who were willing do it! The last thing on my mind was food! She was this child's grandmother! Didn't she want to come see him or comfort her own son who had tears in his eyes? Mr. Branch looked at me and my MIL and said if I felt I needed to hold my son, he would stay by me and James and take us home if needed. Then my MIL said that if I wanted to go to the funeral, I needed to get home and rest and get some food in my body. Now, she had been an RN in her earlier days, so James looked at me like maybe we should do what she says. Not wanting to cause any trouble, I went along with what she said. James and I closed our son's casket because we wanted to be the last ones to see him before his burial. I don't know why, I just didn't want anyone else touching or messing with him. With that we left to go to my MIL's home where we would be staying.
The first thing I noticed when we drove up to my in-laws home was that there was no white wreath on the house signifying that there had been a death in the family. I was told that my MIL decided we wouldn't have the wreath since it was only a stillborn baby. She preferred not to have the wreath on her house. That was a defining moment for me. I had given birth to "just a stillborn?" Was that all it was to her? My perfectly formed full term son was a baby! A real baby! A human being! Things started adding up to me and I should have never gone into her house. I should have had James take me straight to our home. One of the reasons Dr. Forbes had released me was because he knew she had been a registered nurse and I had to agree to go to her house. But I still should have gone to our home where we had some control! I shuffled my way up her long brick walk way and in I stepped not realizing how much I would regret it a few hours later. I pushed my food around on my plate and went upstairs to rest. James stayed to greet friends and my family as they arrived. I asked James what time would we be leaving to go to our son's 2:00 graveside funeral. He said he would let me know as soon as he knew.
The next morning came and I was discharged!!! Before leaving the hospital, my mother-in-law (MIL) came into my room.....room 202, I'll never forget that room number. I was alone when she walked through my door, crying to myself. How normal was that? Very normal for a new mother whose son was to be buried that day! She was very stern asking me why was I crying. I said that I missed my baby and was crying over my loss. She told me that I had better stop my crying, my baby had died yesterday and from now on she had better not see me crying anymore! What had happened yesterday was over and I needed to get on with my life for the sake of my husband, James, and everyone else. Nobody liked being around a grieving woman. I could not believe my ears! Why would she say that? I told her it was normal for me to be crying and I would continue to do so, as nicely as I could utter the words. It wasn't exactly as if I had control over my spilling tears! Then, she left my room. I thought to myself how she was acting so strangely. She was otherwise such a compassionate woman, but now she was acting just plain mean. James came in shortly, and we were on our way out of the hospital.
Funny how all of the mothers appeared to be leaving with their newborns at the same time. It seems the staff would let the mother leaving with empty arms go first to spare her watching the other happy mothers with their arms wrapped around their babies. But no, dig it in and twist the knife already in my heavy aching heart and empty arms by putting me in the elevator with these other mothers full of laughter and joy. Look, I am truly happy for them. I wouldn't wish my pain on my worse enemy. No one should suffer like I was! I mean, James and I were so numb with grief that we couldn't make small talk or force a smile if we tried! As for the other mothers, how could they have known that our son had died? Thank goodness for finally being able to get into our car and drive away.
We didn't drive home. Instead, James took me straight to the funeral home so I could be with our son. Embedded in my heart and mind forever is what happend next. As we pulled up, I saw my sister-in-law and my best friend, Jenny with her. James got out of the car and came to my side to help me out. I was slow moving since I was carrying with me a zillion stitches. As we were taking baby steps inching our way towards the doors, my sister-in-law spoke out that we should just go and not come in to see our son because he looked really bad. What? She could see my son and I couldn't? Who was she to tell me that my son "looked bad?" I remember just falling against a tree and crying against the bark with cars passing by. What could have happened to my baby to make him look so bad that I shouldn't see him? He was perfect yesterday. Jenny motioned for us to come on in and we did. I truly loved Jenny and still do. The funeral home director, dear Mr. Branch, had a chair by the casket waiting for me. We came closer and looked into the small white casket. There was our beautiful son. He still looked perfect! He seemed to have a tiny smile on his lips. His hair was light brown. He looked so much like my sister's son, Todd. There was a small triangular tear in his skin on his left wrist, but I already knew about that. It happened right after delivery. Was that what my SIL talking about? It was so small in the scheme of things! I reached in the casket to touch my son and felt his cold skin. I straightened out his already straightened outfit, the blue one with the kite on it. Where was his yellow pillow that played "Rock-a- bye Baby? He needed that! Where was the white receiving blanket to warm his cold skin? I asked for these comfort items that belonged to James, Jr. to be here in his casket for him! James quietly told me that his mother said, "not to waste them because we would want them for our next baby!" What? I am the hurting mother of this child and I should be the one making decisions for my baby! Why are people making everything so much harder for me? I was trying to be nice and considerate of them. Give me just a little break here please! Who knows better for me and my son than me, his mom? I was mad now mixed in with the grief. There was nothing in the casket but my son, and all I wanted was some baby things with him. My bottom was hurting, my heart was hurting and now I was angry. This was not a time to provoke a mother looking at her dead son. I reached into the casket to pick up my son to hold him. I heard gasps from around the room. What people??? I am just going to hold my son that after today I will never be able to hold again! He was heavy, so Mr. Branch was about to help me when "you know who walked in", my MIL. She stopped everything saying it was time to leave so we could eat before the funeral. She was frying chicken and needed to get home to attend it. She wanted plenty of food for all of the people (she meant my large family) who were coming in. Forget the chicken! Let the neighbors who were willing do it! The last thing on my mind was food! She was this child's grandmother! Didn't she want to come see him or comfort her own son who had tears in his eyes? Mr. Branch looked at me and my MIL and said if I felt I needed to hold my son, he would stay by me and James and take us home if needed. Then my MIL said that if I wanted to go to the funeral, I needed to get home and rest and get some food in my body. Now, she had been an RN in her earlier days, so James looked at me like maybe we should do what she says. Not wanting to cause any trouble, I went along with what she said. James and I closed our son's casket because we wanted to be the last ones to see him before his burial. I don't know why, I just didn't want anyone else touching or messing with him. With that we left to go to my MIL's home where we would be staying.
The first thing I noticed when we drove up to my in-laws home was that there was no white wreath on the house signifying that there had been a death in the family. I was told that my MIL decided we wouldn't have the wreath since it was only a stillborn baby. She preferred not to have the wreath on her house. That was a defining moment for me. I had given birth to "just a stillborn?" Was that all it was to her? My perfectly formed full term son was a baby! A real baby! A human being! Things started adding up to me and I should have never gone into her house. I should have had James take me straight to our home. One of the reasons Dr. Forbes had released me was because he knew she had been a registered nurse and I had to agree to go to her house. But I still should have gone to our home where we had some control! I shuffled my way up her long brick walk way and in I stepped not realizing how much I would regret it a few hours later. I pushed my food around on my plate and went upstairs to rest. James stayed to greet friends and my family as they arrived. I asked James what time would we be leaving to go to our son's 2:00 graveside funeral. He said he would let me know as soon as he knew.
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