It was my Dad's unveiling last week.
I thought I would be strong.
I wasn't.
The minute I walked up to his grave it was as if I was reliving his funeral all over again.
We then went to visit Zachary's grave.
Something I've done quite a few times.
I cried.
Something I've done quite a few times.
I was brought back to the morning of his death.
I remember their birth, and Zachary's death, quite vividly.
I remember the Doctor telling me that Zachary's condition was "grave".
I remember them wheeling me into the NICU after my c-section to see the boys and then wheeling me up to my room to get some rest.
There was no rest.
7 hours after my oldest son was born there was a knock on my door.
I screamed and cried and clutched onto dear husbands shirt.
I did not want to tell the person on the other side to come in.
It was 3AM and I knew what that knock meant.
He entered anyways.
He told me Zachary's lungs were just too underdeveloped.
Im so sorry. He said.
Im so sorry, he kept saying.
He was in his blue scrubs still from delivering my twin boys just hours before.
I was hyperventilating.
He asked if I wanted to see Zachary.
I did.
A while later I was once again wheeled down to the NICU. I was so sick from the anaesthesia that I was vomiting for hours. My hysterics didn't help my recovery from surgery.
It was the middle of the night so no other parents were in the NICU.
Just nurses and doctors with solemn faces.
Im so sorry. They all said.
The nurse handed Zachary to me.
He was bundled up in a blanket and had a little blue and pink striped hat on.
There were no tubes.
He looked perfect.
I'm not sure I could even see his tiny body through my tears at times but I kept looking into his eyes. I kept saying..
Im so sorry
I miss my first born son
I miss my Dad.
I thought I would be strong.
I wasn't.
The minute I walked up to his grave it was as if I was reliving his funeral all over again.
We then went to visit Zachary's grave.
Something I've done quite a few times.
I cried.
Something I've done quite a few times.
I was brought back to the morning of his death.
I remember their birth, and Zachary's death, quite vividly.
I remember the Doctor telling me that Zachary's condition was "grave".
I remember them wheeling me into the NICU after my c-section to see the boys and then wheeling me up to my room to get some rest.
There was no rest.
7 hours after my oldest son was born there was a knock on my door.
I screamed and cried and clutched onto dear husbands shirt.
I did not want to tell the person on the other side to come in.
It was 3AM and I knew what that knock meant.
He entered anyways.
He told me Zachary's lungs were just too underdeveloped.
Im so sorry. He said.
Im so sorry, he kept saying.
He was in his blue scrubs still from delivering my twin boys just hours before.
I was hyperventilating.
He asked if I wanted to see Zachary.
I did.
A while later I was once again wheeled down to the NICU. I was so sick from the anaesthesia that I was vomiting for hours. My hysterics didn't help my recovery from surgery.
It was the middle of the night so no other parents were in the NICU.
Just nurses and doctors with solemn faces.
Im so sorry. They all said.
The nurse handed Zachary to me.
He was bundled up in a blanket and had a little blue and pink striped hat on.
There were no tubes.
He looked perfect.
I'm not sure I could even see his tiny body through my tears at times but I kept looking into his eyes. I kept saying..
Im so sorry
I miss my first born son
I miss my Dad.
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