he was 32 wks old. beautiful baby boy with a head full of hair. Weighed in at 2lb 14oz, 16inches long. He made it through the most difficult time and had just 8 weeks left to come into this world. The mother was so excited to welcome another son, and the older brother couldnt wait to welcome his new brother home.
Working the previous noc shift, the mom noticed that the baby was less active and so drove right to ob/gyn's office the next day. Doppler did not pick up a heart beat so u/s was done confirming the bad news.
C/S was scheduled for the next morning to remove the baby.
He is my son whom I had named Ezekiel. The name means strength of God. I was soo looking forward to being his mom. Yet 3 days later, here I lie in bed. In pain from the surgery, with no baby to show for it. Cant play with my other son. i know i may be diving into depression and i will call my doc on monday, but I think I just wanted to share with someone right now before it eats me up. I keep thinking what I did wrong, could I have caught something earlier and saved his life? Maybe it was that cup of coffee I indulged in the other day. I knew I shouldnt have drunk it but did anyways. Or maybe I wasnt getting enough rest. I kept saying noc shift was killing me, but maybe it was really killing my son and I did not realize it
Everyone keeps saying there is a reason for everything, but maybe its too soon for me to consider that angle.
Maybe it will turn out that like his namesake Ezekiel in the Bible, he really was a prophet and his message to me is just not clear right now.
I guess really what am asking for is for the AN community to send good vibes my way.