September 25, 2014.
Five years ago today.
Writing that down makes me realize how quickly time passes. In fact, it’s probably been five years since I’ve really written a post. Time passes with no regard to how you use it. Time doesn’t notice if you said “I love you” today and it doesn’t care if you were angry when you walked out the door. They say time heals, and I suppose that’s true depending on the wound. Some wounds turn into scars. Some of those scars fade and you move on, and some last forever. Five years ago I was given a scar that hasn’t faded and won’t go away. While not a physical wound it is a wound that hurts more than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I had just started a new job and was in my morning status meeting when I got a call from the OB nurse. I was told that I needed to get to the office right away and I knew it was time. You see, we were scheduled for a C-Section in one week but my wife is diabetic and my other two boys were early so I was ready. As I got to my desk to pack my bag and head out I got another call. This time it was my wife, Ronna. With tears in her eyes and a broken heart she told me we had lost the baby. I don’t think I understood but I hung up the phone and ran to the Jeep. I yelled and cursed and pounded the steering wheel all the way to the doctor’s office where I found my wife sitting in the doctor’s chair crying. At 38 weeks she had gone in for her last checkup and sonogram. This was considered a high risk pregnancy so they keep a close watch on things as we near the due date. Today was just like the visit the week before but the sonogram tech, who was our tech for all three babies, couldn’t find the heartbeat and it was determined that Hudson was gone. From there we had to have a C-section, choose a casket and lower our baby into the ground. The weeks that followed would be a blur filled with anger, sadness, and the most real tears I’ve ever cried. Since that day I’ve battled a range of emotions from apathy to borderline depression.
Today Hudson would have been five years old. Even today, five years later, I cried thinking about that. I ponder about where he would fit in this crazy family dynamic. If you know me today, you’ve heard me refer to my boys as feral. They are. They’re just a spoken word away from that kid in Mad Max with the boomerang and I love them for that. I assume Hudson would have, through osmosis and observation, absorbed that energy and charisma too. Somedays it bums me out but I have to also appreciate that I have two happy, healthy, crazy nerds that need my attention too. So I give them that attention. Maybe too much. I have what I call “Nemo Syndrome”. In the movie “Finding Nemo”, Nemo’s dad experienced great loss and refused to expose Nemo to risk and sometimes I feel that way. I watch them closely and do my best to keep them safe. I’m sure someday they’ll demand space, but for now I’m in the mix like Betty Crocker. I hope when they’re almost 40 they’ll still want to hang out with me and we’ll still laugh about fart jokes.
If you’ve read this far thanks, but also jeez - get off the computer. I know it’s been said before, but take the time before it’s gone. Remember, time doesn’t care how you’ve been spending it. That little red notification bubble on all your apps has us trained to respond and it is never-ending so de-prioritize it. Put your phone down, close the laptop and go hold hands with your little one. Or your husband or wife. Tell them you enjoy their company and ask them about their dreams. Sawyer wants to be a rockstar and Tucker wants to ride dirt bikes. I dream about building a cabin in the mountains and having my grandkids come visit me. Sometimes those dreams include my chubby little Hudson and I’m learning to deal with that.
September 25, 2014.