**Also, this was written on October 15, 2013. I just got the nerve to post it.**
Today is October 15, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Had you asked me what October 15 was 2 years ago, I wouldn't have had a clue. I never would have thought that a day such as that could impact me, or that I could be the one in four, the face of Child Loss. Yet, here I am.
And so today, I just want to remember Khoen. There are probably going to be so many things in this blog that are repetitive from previous posts, so if you have followed along from the beginning I apologize for that. But I need to remember everything I can about Khoen tonight.
I admit, sometimes I cry and get scared because I feel like I am forgetting. Not forgetting Khoen, I could never even begin to do that. But, forgetting the little things. Sometimes I have to sit and try really hard to remember how he sounded when he cried; when he cooed; when he sneezed his silly little sneeze. Sometimes I cry because I want to smell him, and I can't. I have his WubbaNub monkey pacifier and some bibs, clothing, and blankets in a storage bag, so that the smell can't escape and I will never lose it. But I find myself scared to unzip the bag...scared that I may accidentally let the last of his scent go. Only a mother who has felt my pain could understand.
As you know from my labor story, I don't remember Khoen being born. I remember having Mikah, and I remember so many doctors and nurses around me, yelling about Khoen's heartrate dropping, and pushing on my belly, and moving me around...and I remember them saying they had to get him out, now. I remember them cleaning my belly. I remember the doctor standing over my with a scalpel, and I remember starting to cry and begging the nurse not to let him cut me until I was asleep (I had absolutely no pain medication, and was terrified). And I remember the nurse telling me just to breathe and count to 10. I don't think I made it past 2.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a small curtained room with just a nurse and Dustin. I remember asking if Khoen was ok, and them telling me he was. But, I couldn't go down and see him or Mikah until I had completely recovered, and anesthesia was totally worn off.
Unfortunately, the cut they made into my belly wasn't a very good one. It was nothing like what the doctors like to see in a C-section. But, their priority was saving Khoen, and that's what mattered. And they did. Khoen Lee McGinnis was born 14 minutes after his twin brother, at 4:59 pm, weighing 4 pounds and 6 ounces, and 18 inches long. And, both boys were healthy. No oxygen, nothing. Perfect. <3
I didn't get to go and see Khoen that day at all. My doctor wanted to watch my incision, and I wasn't allowed out of bed at all until the next evening. So that is the first time that I was able to go down to the NICU and see my boys.
I remember walking into the NICU for the first time. It was so dark, and there were so many isolettes. Khoen was the first isolette, and Mikah was the second. I remember that Khoen had a bald spot on his little head, because at one point the nurses couldn't get an IV into his hand, so they had to put one in his head. I remember rubbing it when I would hold him, and telling him his hair would grow back, and how handsome he was without it.
I remember trying to help the boys learn to bottle. Both would have episodes where their heart rates dropped when they would try to eat at first, and it took a while for them to catch on. Mikah caught on a little before Khoen, and almost got released into the NPCU before Khoen. But Khoen wasn't going to let his brother show him up, and caught up in the knick of time, so that they could relocate to the progressive unit together.I remember being so happy, because that meant we could actually hold our boys whenever we wanted to. We could feed them without having to ask, and we could play more of the mommy and daddy role.
One thing that stands out in my mind so much is how alert Khoen used to be when I would hold him. He could be so upset in his little isolette, and I would pick him up and he would just stare at me, perfectly content. He would watch me while I talked to him, and sang to him. He was just the most perfect little thing.
I remember watching him learn and grow, and get closer and closer to coming home with us. I couldn't wait until that day. But Khoen was stubborn. The NPCU rule was that they had to go a full 5 days without any episodes (bradycardias, apnea, etc) in order to be released. Mikah sailed through that, and was released to come home. But, every time we started the countdown with Khoen, we would get to day 3 or 4, and he would brady on us...so we would have to start all the way over.
I can remember Dustin and I calling the nursery every single morning after his 6am feeding to see if he had had any events. And I remember crying when they would tell me he had, and they had started him back on day zero.
When we were taking Mikah home, they had a man come up and teach us how to use Khoen's monitor. By that time, we had left Mikah in a little longer than needed to try and bring them both home together, and realized that it just wasn't going to happen. And, we knew by then that Khoen's episodes were still frequent enough to require a monitor to come home with him.
Before I continue, I want to make something clear. Khoen was NOT sick. This is something that is very common in preemies, and there wasn't something wrong with Khoen from birth. There are so many times that when people hear he was on a monitor, and had been in the hospital, and that he later passed away, they have actually said to me, "Oh, so he was sick. I'm so sorry." NO. NO, NO, NO! Khoen was HEALTHY when he was released from the NPCU. The twins were born at almost 33 weeks, and THIS is why he was still having episodes.
Anyways, so there was the man training us on how to use the monitor, and we were just finishing up. I had taken the monitor back off of Khoen, and Dustin was going to change his diaper while I finished getting things together for taking Mikah home. I had to sit down to sign some paperwork, and sat in a chair about 3 feet from where Khoen's bed was. Dustin, not thinking about it, took off his wet diaper, and left him uncovered while he threw it away. That little booger PEED on me, from that far away! It was all over my gown (required to wear in the NICU and NPCU), all over my jeans, everywhere! He really showed up what he thought of Mikah going home before him! ;)
When we brought Mikah home, it was the hardest part of the journey with the twins so far. It was difficult to get up to see Khoen as much with Mikah at home. We didn't want to leave him with anyone just yet, so we had to take turns visiting Khoen (which usually meant that mommy went...I couldn't stand going without seeing him for more than a day).
During this time, I had a lot of nightmares. The dreams were always about Khoen, and they shook me to my core. I would dream that he was there, in his bed at the hospital, and his monitors would go off saying he had an episode...but they wouldn't be able to get him to snap out of it. In the dreams, his heart rate would drop lower and lower, until it was gone. I could never SEE Khoen in the dreams, only the monitors. I would wake up sweating and crying, and shaking uncontrollably. And, like the good husband he is, Dustin would call the nursery for me (no matter what time it was) to check on him. Every time he was just fine, and having a great night.
I thought the dreams then were just due to stress and anxiety, but after losing him, I'm honestly not sure if that was in some way God preparing my heart for what was to come. Either way, it didn't make things easier.
And boy oh boy, do I remember the day we were told Khoen could come home! I stayed up at the hospital with him the night before, and my brother-in-law picked Khoen and I up the next day. I was nervous and excited, but just wanted to get the 30 minute ride over with!
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Seeing the boys next to each other was overwhelming and absolutely amazing. They were never able to truly lay side by side in the hospital, just in beds next to each other. So it was incredible to see them feel each other for the first time since they had been born.
I have never felt more blessed, happy, and alive than when my 4 kids were at home with me. Yes, life was crazy. I would have to feed both of the twins with one hand, while managing to play with Kaisyn or read to Makenna. I had a board that I kept a schedule on of when each of the kids ate, slept, etc...that way I never got confused with who needed what. And I don't just meant the babies, I mean all 4 of the kids!
There were so many good times with Khoen. So many smiles. That little boy had eyes that could just look straight into your soul, and make you feel completely at peace. He had eyes that could see Heaven, and it was truly amazing.
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Khoen had a throaty cry, and it was much more muted than any of my other kids cries. Each of the girls and Mikah have the shrillest screams, and it can literally bust your eardrums. But Khoen's was quiet, and sweet, and such a cute little cry.
Khoen did cry a lot, but mainly because he was a very spoiled baby. I feel now that I spoiled him much more than I did Mikah, and its yet another thing that I struggle with. Mikah would be content just laying in the floor and playing on a playmat, while Khoen would cry and want to be held. So, I would hold him.
And Khoen had severe reflux, so he had to be held in an upright position when he ate. I figured out a technique to hold him up on my shoulder and hold the bottle basically with my face, so I was the one to feed him 95% of the time.
At night, Dustin and I rotated shifts. I am much more of a night person, and he is definitely a morning person. So, I would stay up until the boys 2am feeding, then go to sleep and let him do the 6am feeding. From the time that I fed Khoen at 10, until it was time to feed him again at 2, I held him on my shoulder in the recliner and let him sleep on me. Every night. It was like my special time with him, and one of my favorite parts of my day. We would rotate who fed the boys at other feedings, but I always fed Khoen at night, so that I could get him to sleep. Mikah would fall asleep on his own, so Dustin had the easy job. ;)
I remember I would always for some reason look for Khoen's birthmark on his thigh when I was holding him, and it always made me smile. It was his Khoen mark, and I never knew why I thought it was special. I guess I do now, because I didn't know then that I wouldn't see it but for 4 months.
While Mikah was the more content, go with the flow, of the two, Khoen was definitely the smilier baby when he was happy. Mikah was very straight-faced, but Khoen would just grin at me. I ate it up.
And he made the silliest faces! There were a few times I was able to catch them on camera, and I'm so thankful. Pictures are a funny thing, you know. I used to think I took pictures of the boys CONSTANTLY. Like there was no way I would ever be able to even see all of the pictures I had taken. Yet now, I feel like there isn't nearly enough.
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When the boys first came home, Kaisyn was very unsure of them. But, she was only a little over 11 months old (and keep in mind, the twins were over a month old when they came home...), so she wasn't sure how to feel, and who can blame her.
And another sidenote, for those who don't know, we did not plan to have another baby (or 2!) after Kaisyn. I went on NuvaRing as birth control, and was on it for 3 months when I got pregnant with the twins. And I was ON IT when I got pregnant...I did everything correctly with it. But the twins were a gift from God, and a HUGE blessing to our lives. I wouldn't change a thing.
Makenna, on the other hand, she loved the babies. She was all about holding them, and kissing them, and helping out with them. It was so incredible to see.
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Time passed too quickly, and before we knew it the twins were 3 months old. This was in May, and shortly after they turned 3 months old they got sick for the first time. First it was Mikah...he was so congested and pitiful, he couldn't breathe through his nose at all. We sat with him in a steamy bathroom for half an hour at a time, bought a battery powered suctioner, tried saline drops, everything. He was just miserable.
Then, it was Khoen's turn. But, Khoen's cold didn't get too bad, and he seemed to be handling things fine. But one day I had noticed that he just didn't seem himself. I wasn't getting any smiles, and he wasn't very interested in eating. I laid him down for a nap that afternoon, and he went to sleep without a fight, which was very unusual. I ended up checking his temperature, and discovered he had a low grade fever. So, I thought it just had him feeling poorly. He fell asleep around noon, and by 3 he still wasn't waking up, so I called his doctor.
They told me they could see him at 4:30 that day, so I took the appointment. My mom came to watch the other kids until Dustin could get home from work, and I left with Khoen. He barely opened his eyes when getting into his carseat, and went straight back to sleep. He had his monitor on, so I would know if he were to stop breathing or anything, which is the only thing that gave me peace of mind.
When we got to the office, they took us back and told me to undress him so we could weigh him. The nurse watched as I got him out of his seat, laid him on the table, undressed him, and moved him to the scale, all without him so much as opening his eyes. She asked if that was normal for him, to be such a heavy sleeper, and I told her he was actually the opposite, that's why I was concerned.
She didn't even finish weighing him...she just went and for our doctor. He came in and took a look at Khoen; tried to wake him up a little, but would only get a tiny peak of eyes then he was back out. So they sent me straight to Hemby Children's Hospital with him. I was petrified, because I hadn't even considered things could be that bad.
Once we were there, he was taken immediately to a room, and a swarm of nurses and doctors came over to look at him. They did bloodwork, and said everything looked fine, so they were just going to monitor him until he was less lethargic. The most we would get was still a little peep of his eyes, and he was back out.
By the next morning, he was still no better. He was actually worse, and we could no longer even get him to open his eyes. His soft spot on his head was bulging, so I called the nurse. She ran for the doctor, and they rushed in and took my sweet boy away for an emergency spinal tap. They said he had all of the signs of meningitis, and things looked bad. I cried. I prayed. I felt sick. It was supposed to take them about 15 minutes with him...he was gone for over an hour, and no one would tell me anything.
I finally couldn't take it anymore, and had to get out of the room. I went downstairs and planned to go outside for a breath of fresh air, and as soon as the elevator doors opened my aunt was there. I literally fell into her arms in tears, and told her how scared I was. We got a drink from the cafeteria, and headed back up to his room...which he still wasn't back in. About 10 minutes after we returned, they brought him back. They said they had had trouble with the spinal and an IV, and he was fine, and they were sorry they worried me. I just scooped up my baby and held him.
They started him on antibiotics, and more IV fluids, and by that afternoon he was awake. But, not happy. He was fussy and grumpy, and just didn't feel good. His soft spot was still bulging, and we were still waiting on answers.
They came in that night and told us the tests were clear for meningitis, so they thought it was just another infection causing his problems. They said the swelling in his head was probably due to them pushing so many IV fluids to try and perk him up, and was nothing to worry about. It was "normal".
He still had no appetite, but it sure was amazing to see his sweet eyes. The nurse I had that night was amazing, and told me that if Khoen cried when I tried to lay him down to go to bed, to put him in the bed with me. And that's exactly what I did. I cuddled up to him, and we went to sleep together...and that is the first time that Khoen ever slept through the night. <3
The next morning, he was feeling somewhat better, and he ate for me. The nurse brought me a bouncer for him in case he wanted to sit in it, so I gave it a try. I was busy cleaning up a little, and looked over at him to see him just sitting there giving me the biggest smile. I will never forget that smile that day. It made me feel so loved, and I would give absolutely anything to see him give me one of those smiles again tonight. But pictures will have to suffice.
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We were told we could go home the next day, so we just enjoyed snuggles and hanging out just Mommy and Khoen that day/night. Although I told him next time he needed some mommy-time, to tell me so we could go on a vacation rather than to the hospital! ;)
The next morning, we were all set to go home, and my dad was on his way to pick us up. My mom had taken my car home for me the day before, so we needed a ride. I had already packed our things, gotten dressed, dressed Khoen all cute, EVERYTHING, and was feeding him his bottle before we left. And man, did he let me have it! He puked literally all over me and him! We were both completely soaked, and there was a nurse in the room at the time (thank God!) to help me out! She laughed with me while we cleaned him up, and she dressed him again for me while I got cleaned up and changed. That Khoen, he was full of surprises.
It was SO GOOD TO BE BACK HOME! I thought it would be the first of many times that Khoen was sick, but it was really the only one. Over the next few days, his soft spot would bulge, then sink in, then bulge again. I took him back to the doctors 3 times during the next week, and they kept doing tests, even did an ultrasound of his head, and said everything looked completely normal. They said that some kids just do that, and Khoen was one of those kids. I will never know whether or not to truly believe that there was nothing wrong, because he died less than 2 weeks later. But, I have to have faith that they did all they could, or I will drive myself insane.
So let's fastforward 2 weeks, to when I took the girls to the beach for a night. It was one night...we were supposed to return the next day at lunchtime. Dustin and I knew we didn't want to take the babies that summer because they couldn't enjoy it. So we thought it would be perfect.
By this time, we had been told that Khoen didn't need his monitor (he had been episode free for well over a month) unless we just felt he needed it, such as when he started sleeping through the night. He still wasn't doing that yet, and still wanted to eat every 4 hours, which was fine with me. It meant I still got my nightly snuggles!
Anyways, on May 31, my best friend (who is honestly more like my sister) and I spent the day at my house with my kids and her son, planning to leave the next day for the beach. Khoen was extra fussy, but I thought it was because I wasn't holding him constantly since I was packing for the girls. Now I constantly want to kick myself in the face for not thinking more of it. But, once again, I can't let my mind take me there.
These are 2 of the pictures that I took of the boys that day. I had no clue it was the last day I would spend with Khoen or I would have taken a million more. And, I never would have even considered leaving his side for a second.
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We left the next morning around 7am, and the boys had just eaten and gone back to sleep. So I kissed each one goodbye on the cheek, and told them to be good, and I would see them tomorrow. Oh how those kisses and words eat at my soul now. :(
June 2, 2012. The worst day of my life. I woke up around 8, and tried to call Dustin. He didn't answer, so I figured he was asleep. My mom called. She told me we needed to come home, now. That Khoen was taken to the hospital. That he wasn't breathing well. That's all she would say.
I called Dustin. Still no answer. I called my dad, and he was crying.
I asked my dad to please tell me Khoen was ok, and he just cried and told me he was so sorry. I've never had such a punched-in-the-gut feeling in my life.
I asked my dad if Khoen was gone, and he said yes.
I don't remember much from there. I guess my mind blacked it out. I remember screaming so loud that the front desk got complaints, and they came to see if we were ok. Thank God for Victoria, for handling the situation, explaining things, packing ALL of our things, getting my girls and her son and me in the car, and driving us home. I remember making a few phone calls, but only remember talking to Kristin, then Ashley. I don't know who else I called. I don't remember the drive home at all. I remember nothing else until I got to my parents house.
I had to have my sister keep Mikah at her house. I wasn't ready to see him without Khoen. I couldn't see him without Khoen. This couldn't be real. It had to be another nightmare, and I was trying my hardest to wake up. But I couldn't.
This was real. This was happening. My son was gone. My world completely crashed down around me, and all I could see was gray.
I didn't know how I would ever be able to look at Mikah and not just long to see Khoen beside him. They were twins. They were always side by side.
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I don't think I realized then how much I was going to miss taking pictures like these. I knew I would miss it, but I still couldn't realize that this was real. This was my life now. This was happening.
The days that followed were absolutely terrible. We had to go that Monday morning, the 4th, to the funeral home. I didn't want to go, at all. We had originally planned to go the day before, on Sunday, but I couldn't do it. I wasn't ready. Can you ever really be ready to go and plan your child's funeral, no matter how old they were when they passed away?
But, it had to be done. And I wanted to make sure that Khoen's funeral was the most beautiful ceremony possible for my sweet boy.
The grief of losing a child is insane. It's completely unpredictable, and really does have a mind of its own. The times when you think you are ok, you aren't, and it hits you like a million tons of brick. But, the times when you think will be the hardest on you, sometimes you are able to make it through with a strength that can only come from above. It's crazy.
Planning the funeral was one of those times for me. I don't know how, but somehow I was able to sit there and help write out Khoen's obituary, plan his booklets, everything. I was doing better than I expected myself to, and was even able to hand them my little Kho's pictures, to use for his obituary and for his memorial service. I didn't cry the whole time. I was ok, somehow.
The people at the funeral home had asked if there was anything in particular we knew we wanted, so they could get started on things. My mom had already asked, right after Khoen passed away, for them to take prints of his hands and feet, because, seeing how he was a NICU baby, I never got any from the hospital. I knew that if they didn't take them, I would never have his handprint or his footprint. Well, I had been sent a poem from one of my dear friends that was just so perfect for Khoen, and I knew I wanted it in the booklet. It was about his tiny footprints, so we asked if they could put this poem inside, and put his real footprints behind it.
They told us that they had been unable to do handprints, because by the time Khoen arrived to them, his little hands were too stiff from his soul being gone for too long. They could no longer be straightened to be stamped onto paper. But, they had gotten his footprints, and they have no clue how much this means to me. I will be forever grateful for the multiple sets of footprints they gave us.
Anyways, I was doing ok, until they showed me what they had come up with. There they were...the first time I had ever seen them on paper...his tiny little footprints, behind the sweet poem that meant so much to me. That was too much. That made things too real. I couldn't handle it from there. I felt sick, and I just wanted to go home.
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The Poem:
There are my tiny footprints,
So perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints
Never touched the ground at all.
Not one tiny footprint,
For now I have my wings.
These tiny footprints,
were meant for other things.
You will hear my tiny footprints
in the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears,
of joy and not from pain.
You will see my tiny footprints
in each butterflies lazy dance.
I'll let you know I'm with you,
if you just give me the chance.
You will hear my tiny footprints
in the rustle of the leaves.
I will whisper names into the wind,
and call each one that grieves.
Most of all, these tiny footprints,
are found on mommy and daddy's hearts.
'Cause even though I'm gone now,
we'll never truly part.
-Unknown Author
Since the funeral was planned, we were able to leave. I don't know if I've mentioned it yet, but I still hadn't been able to even hold Mikah. I felt like a terrible mother, but it was so hard. And unless you have been in my shoes, please don't judge that.
It was such a hard thing to deal with because I was terrified at the time of losing Mikah, too. But, at the same time, holding him meant making it real to me that I would never again hold Khoen. The longer I didn't hold Mikah, the longer I could hold onto that little piece of my heart that still didn't fully grasp my new reality. So, although he was with us now (we were staying with my parents, we didn't go home.), I couldn't be the mommy he needed me to be at the time.
I was ok around the girls, because they were, in a way, seperate to me. Mikah was just a package deal with Khoen, so it made it more difficult.
That night, I couldn't take it. It was hard, too, because since Dustin had been there when Khoen died, he couldn't come back to the townhouse, and I didn't blame him. But, at the same time, thats where my memories of Khoen were, so that's where I wanted to be. So, I came home. Alone.
I cried the whole way here. I stopped when I pulled into my parking spot, and literally beat my steering wheel, and yelled at the sky. I yelled to Khoen. I yelled at God, to please give him back. Please. Please make this pain go away.
I remember coming in the front door. I remember the quiet. My house is never quiet, I have 4 kids. My house was silent. How? Why? I remember seeing his carseat sitting right there in the kitchen, where it always was. I remember going over to it, and touching it, and just wanting so badly to see him sitting there.
I saw his monitor on the kitchen table. I saw the little belt he wore for so long, just laying there. Empty. No baby to put it on. That stupid monitor that I hated so much when he was alive, because it rubbed open wounds under my baby's armpits, and now I just looked at it with love, because it was a part of Khoen. I remember smelling it, to see if it still smelled like him.
Then I remember walking into the living room. The dark, empty living room. I remember the bouncy seats. They were both still sitting there, side by side, exactly where they had been 3 nights before. Exactly where we set them every night when the boys slept. I knew which one was Khoen's.
Seeing these seats literally crushed what little tiny bit of my heart may have still been hanging on. I no longer needed 2 seats. Plus, I was looking at the EXACT spot where my son took his last breath. I was looking at the spot where my son died. And I couldn't even breathe.
I don't know how I didn't actually throw up in the floor. I have never cried as hard as I did then. I layed there with my head in his seat, doing everything I could to feel as close to him as possible. I could smell him. I could close my eyes and see him. But when I opened them, I was still alone, in my dark, quiet living room. And he was still gone. And it was finally starting to really hit me that he wasn't ever coming back home.
I couldn't look at that spot anymore. Instead, I took his blanket from the seat, the blanket that covered him as he took that last precious breath, and I went to my bed. I didn't even change clothes. I just laid in my bed, held his blanket as tightly as I could, and cried. Screamed. Cried. Yelled. Punched the bed. Cried. And eventually exhausted myself so much that I fell asleep.
I think that was the first time I actually slept since that Friday, and I slept until well into the day Tuesday. I had no dreams. I was too mentally, physically, and emotionally tired, to even think. But as soon as I opened my eyes, and saw that his blanket was still there in my arms, I knew this was still happening. I still had to live through this. It wasn't going away. And I cried again.
I somehow forced myself to get into the bath...the same bathtub where my water broke just 4 short months ago, right before Khoen made his entrance into the world. I sat there emotionless for hours. And I really do mean hours. I am pretty sure I didn't move for 6-7 hours, because it was around 2 when I got in, and was dark when I got out. I never ran more hot water. I didn't care how cold it was. I couldn't feel it. I was completely numb. And, I knew that as soon as I moved...as soon as I tried to run water, or stand up, or even reposition myself, that reality would hit me again. I knew that the tears would come again. I knew that the nausea would come again. I knew that the pain would stab me again, and I didn't think my wound could take it at the moment.
I didn't eat. I couldn't eat. For 2 weeks after Khoen died, I ate maybe 2 meals. I would try...Id take one bite, and couldn't even make myself chew and swallow it. I made sure I drank water, thanks to my husband and my mom, but I couldn't take eating. I was constantly just too sick. I thought I was dying too for a while, because I honestly thought my body was never going to let me eat again.
Anyways, when I got out, I called my parents house. I talked to each of them....my mom, Dustin, Makenna, Kaisyn, told Dustin to kiss Mikah for me, then my dad. It was hardest to talk to my dad. He was the one who told me the news. He was the one who kept crying, because his heart was broken for me. My dad and I have always been close, and have that father-daughter bond that words just cant explain. And he felt my pain. He knew I was broken. But he knew he couldn't fix it, and that broke him.
But, he always knew what to say. He tried so hard. Everyone did. But no one could help.
At the time, I couldn't pray. I have always been a Christian, and always believed in God, and in Heaven, and knew that there was a better life waiting for us after this one is over. And it did comfort me to know that Khoen was in Heaven, with Grandmom and Grandad, and loved so much up there. But, I was angry. I was so, so angry. I didn't know why, why in the world, would God have to take my baby? Why did he have to have him back? I NEEDED HIM. I WANTED HIM HERE. HE WAS MINE.
It took time for my heart, and my head, to heal and allow me to hear God speak to me. This may make no sense to some, but I think that other mothers who have been here will understand. It was hard to pray because when you pray, you are talking to God himself. And in my mind, He was the one holding my Khoen. And I was jealous...I am human. I wanted to be the one holding my baby. How could I pray, and ask the one who sat there with my baby on his knee, to help heal my pain?
I just asked God if He knew how much I hurt. If He knew how much I needed that baby. If He knew what He had done, and if He had made a mistake. This HAD to be a mistake.
That night went the same way. I stayed at my house, while my family was at my parents. I just couldn't go there. I couldn't leave where I knew Khoen to be. And again, I screamed, I cried, I couldn't breathe, I punched my bed, I cuddled with his blanket, I yelled, I cried more, and I exhausted myself until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I went back to my kids. I woke up and knew that I had to. I was able to drive for the first time and not cry. I cried when I got there, because they hugged me. I didn't handle hugs well at the time. I didn't want to need hugs...although I did need them. I wanted to be normal. I wanted my life back. I wanted Khoen. But he was gone, and the hugs were here, and I couldn't change that.
The funeral was planned for the next day, and I knew that we had to go to the funeral home and see Khoen. This was wednesday. I had told everyone I didn't want to see him. I wanted to remember him how he was before, and I didn't want to see him. I knew that if I saw him, I would want to grab him up and kiss him, and have him wake up and give me that big, sweet smile. And I knew he wouldn't, so I didn't want to see. I wanted someone to take pictures, so I could see later if I decided to.
I had to take anxiety medication that morning. I was having panic attacks like crazy. Too soon, we were in the car on our way to see my baby. And I didn't want to go.
When we got there, a lot of my husbands family was already there. I wasn't in the mood to see anyone, even my own family, and I know I acted rude. I didn't speak to anyone, and I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't look up. I couldn't breathe.
My pastor was there, and prayed with us before we went in. They told us he was ready, and that Dustin and I could go in first. I asked Dr. Ammons to go in with us. All of a sudden, I had to go. I had to see. I had to tell my baby goodbye. I knew it would hurt, but I was already so hurt that it no longer mattered. I just needed to see his face again.
I will never forget walking through those doors, and into the huge room where my baby was. He was across the room, in this tiny casket. It was way too small to even look real. A 25" long casket, and my baby fit in it too well.
As I said before, we didn't allow people to come except family. And honestly, at the time, I didn't even want them to see him. I wanted no one to remember my baby that way. I wanted them to remember his smile. Not a lifeless shell.
I think it took me 5 full minutes to walk across the room. Dr. Ammons held my hand. As we got closer, I could see his feet, and I knew this was real. That was my baby. That was my son. This was really happening. We had brought certain things to bury with him...a photo of Dustin, me, and the girls, and one of Mikah. We never had family photos made with all 6 of us. We brought his puppy that the Easter bunny had brought him...the only holiday we were ever able to spend with him. We brought him a his little toy keys. We brought his pacifier that he loved (not his Wubbanub though, I couldn't part with that). My parents brought him a little book, and my sister and his family brought him a little Noah's Ark figurine.
Once I could see his feet, I broke down. I felt sick again. I just wanted to see all of him. And I did.
Khoen didn't look like my Khoen. He didn't look like the baby I knew, the baby I remembered, the baby I wanted so badly to run away with. But it was only because I knew that he was gone, and this was just his earthly body we were seeing.
The next few facts may be too much for some, but its how it happened, and I have to share.
I remember feeling his head. I remember rubbing his little cheek. I will never forget how cold and hard it was. Nothing like when I had stroked his cheek before. But, I couldn't stop. I cried, and I just begged in my head (or maybe out loud, I honestly don't know) for my baby back. I begged for this not to be real once again.
I remember feeling his stomach, and knowing that an autopsy had been done, and knowing that this really was happening. I remember seeing his little identification tag on his ankle, and just wanting to rip it off and tell him to wake up.
After we had been with him for quite some time, our pastor asked if we wanted to let others come in. We agreed, knowing we could be alone with him again after. I remember seeing Dustin's family walking through the door, and I remember running out into the hall and having a full blown panic attack. And, I am actually physically shaking writing this...yet, it feels freeing in a way, because I want to hide nothing of Khoen. Khoen is my son, and he is a part of my world. His story deserves to be told in full.
I remember seeing Victoria walk up a few minutes later, and collapsing into her. After Dustin's family was done, my family went in. And after they went in, Victoria went in. Then we went in again.
Once everyone was done, I wanted another few minutes just Dustin, Khoen, and I. So we stood there. We said nothing. There were no words. I had to feel his cheeks, his head, his hands, his feet, his tummy, his nose, his lips, his chin, everything, just one last time.
And I remember the hardest part of all...when they told me it was time for us to leave. Wait...I have to leave here without him? I have to leave him with these strangers? What do you mean this is the LAST time I will see his face? I can't do that! I have to take him home, snuggle him, tell him that everything is going to be ok, and hold him. I have to wipe his tears, and fix his booboos, and tell him stories. I have to teach him to brush his teeth, to throw and catch, to make animal sounds. We have to sing songs, do silly dances. We have to watch him grow up. This is my son.
But, I had to leave him. I had to give him one last kiss on his head, and walk away. I couldn't turn around, because I would have run back. I had to just walk away, get in my aunts van, and leave. I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. And for a few minutes, I couldn't even cry. I was simply existing, and didn't know why.
When we got back to my parents, I had to leave. I had to be alone. I had to collect my thoughts again. I went home. I smelled his bouncer. I held his WubbaNub. I snuggled his blanket. And again, I cried, screamed, yelled, almost puked, cried some more, and exhausted myself to sleep.
I had to get up early the next morning and go back to my parents to get the kids ready for the funeral. I dont know why I say get them ready...I did nothing to help. I could barely get myself ready. But too soon once again, we were in the car on the way to the cemetary.
When we arrived, there were already people there. People who love my family, and love Khoen, and wanted to show us they cared. Some who I hadn't seen in so long, and there they were. They will never know how much that meant. Words cant express.
When we got out of the car, for the first time, I knew I had to hold Mikah. I couldn't walk up the hill and sit in front of that casket that held my Khoen without Mikah in my arms. So, I took him, and I held him, and I couldn't let him go. I couldn't let anyone else hold him during the funeral...I had to keep him close. He just slept, but my heart hurt so much for him. That was his tiny twin in that casket, and he didn't even understand what was going on. They were in matching outfits for the very last time. I dressed Mikah exactly like Khoen, and only we knew. But it was special to us.
The ceremony was beautiful, and somehow I didn't cry much at all. Tears dripped occasionally, but I wasn't nearly as upset as I'd thought I'd be. And when it was over, and people were hugging me, I was actually able to smile. That smile came straight from Heaven...straight from Khoen...straight from the Lord. And that's the moment when I started to see again.
From that day on, I learned little by little to put one foot in front of the other. I no longer had to stay away from Mikah, and was able to feed him, change him, and be the mommy he needed me to be. I didn't have to go stay by myself at my house. I stayed with my family at my parents.
That doesn't mean I was better, but I was learning. I still cried, a lot. I still didn't eat. I still didn't sleep well at all. But, I had an occasional smile, and I knew that there was a reason that was just beyond me at the time.
I remember one night a few nights later, I was sitting out on the bed of my dads truck, looking up at the stars. The kids were asleep, and I needed some fresh air. I prayed for the first time, but it still wasn't like I used to. I begged God to give me a sign that Khoen was ok. I begged him for a shooting star in particular...just show me a shooting star, and I'll smile. I'll know that he is ok, and that I'm going to be ok, and I will get through this.
I sat there for about 30 minutes before my dad joined me. At first we just sat there together, silently staring at the stars. Then, he talked to me, and it was the best talk I've ever had.
He reminded me that God doesn't have to give us a reason right now. God doesn't have to give me that shooting star for me to know Khoen is ok right now at this moment, because I already know deep down in my heart. My heart is just broken right now, and it will take time to heal. But, that doesn't mean that God has forgotten, or that He isn't there. That doesn't mean that God doesn't care.
"All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:16
When God chose me to be Khoen's mommy, he knew that I would only have him for a short time. But he knew the love that little boy would bring to me, and the smiles, and the warmth that he would put into my heart. He knew that all my life, I longed for twins. And He gave me my twins. But He also knew that I wasn't done learning, and there was more to my life than to just be a mommy of 4.
Through losing Khoen, I have met some of the most amazing women in the world, that I never would have had a bond with before. It is not a bond that I would wish upon anyone, due to the pain behind our smiles, but its a bond that is such a blessing to my life.
As I started my journey to healing, I relearned how to pray, and to pray better. I remembered how great my desire was before to get to Heaven when this life is over, and I knew now that it was multiplied by one million...my son was waiting for me there. And I remember someone sending me a quote about a child who dies before their mother. I can't remember exactly what it said, but the point was that the child doesn't miss their mother, because a lifetime down here is like a second in Heaven. Its like running into a field of flowers with your baby...your baby may run ahead, but by the time he looks back to find you, you are already there.
That brought me peace, because as a mother, its our instinct not to want them to be scared, or lonely, or miss us and think we are not there. I can't wait to see the flower Khoen has picked for me.
I never looked up the name Khoen before he died to see what it meant, but I decided to do it one day after. And, I discovered his name meant Priest. Khoen has led me and my family back to the Lord and made us closer than ever before. And I can't thank him enough for that.
If you've never listened to the song Hug Him Once For Me, I ask you to please go to YouTube.com and listen to it. Just listen to it and remember Khoen. Remember my baby. He is real, and he is my son...whether you can see him, or got to meet him, or even knew that he was here. He was. He is. And I love him so.
I still don't know why Khoen didn't get to stay, but I know that I will understand one day. I can no longer doubt the existence or reasoning of God...without him, I would not be where I am today. I think God sent me on that trip, so that I wouldn't have to witness what He knew was going to happen. He knew that Dustin possesses a strength that I dont, and he could get through it with time. I couldn't have handled seeing it. That was God.
God has carried me through my toughest days. And he sends me reminders of Khoen when I need them the most.
For example, one night after going to a baby shower for someone who was having twins, I was having a really rough night. It was still so new to me, and it was hard to see people be excited over having 2 babies, when I had just lost mine. Not only did I lose my son, but my twins...and that was an adjustment.
That night, I was really upset. I had called a good friend who lives in Georgia but is always there when I have emotional breakdowns, haha (thanks, Kristin Hill!!!!) and just cried and cried to her. When I got off the phone, I cried again. I didn't want to go home...I didn't want to go back to my reality. Maybe if I kept driving, I could pretend this all wasn't real, and that Khoen was at home sleeping with all of my other babies.
It was dark, and I was on a street with few streetlights. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I saw the biggest, brightest shooting star I have ever seen in my life. It was directly in front of me, and I watched it until it disappeared into the night. That was my sign from God. That was my, "You're going to be ok. Khoen is ok. He is safe with me, and he is in my arms, just as you are. You will see him again, so just go home, and try. I will help you when you need me." And that's what I did. I dried my tears, found my smile (thanks, Khoen!), and drove home. I went to bed, and woke up the next day and was able to do all of the things a mommy has to do. Our job keeps us busy and on our toes!
Sometimes people ask me how I do it, and I still can't answer. My only response is God. Prayer. And believing with all of my heart that I WILL see my son again. I will hold him again. I will hug him, and kiss him, and tell him how much I love him. And I will hear him tell me he loves me. I absolutely can't wait.
Strength through grief is crazy, too, because I don't think we ever really know where it comes from. It just is, and somehow with time we are able to walk a little farther, and a little faster, again.
My journey is far from over. I have gained so much weight since last June. I had to choose my daily battles at the time, and there were many days that even the regular have-to-dos were too much. Doing laundry and finding one of Khoen's little shirts put me into tears for the day. Or seeing a butterfly and realizing I needed to go do something special with the kids. Trying so hard to figure out how to be mommy again, and look into my childrens eyes without them constantly seeing pain.
I do think its ok to let them see my cry. Otherwise, they will be very confused later in life, because they will know Khoen was real, but not remember seeing any sadness after. So, if I am crying over Khoen and they ask me whats wrong, I tell them. And I tell them its ok to be sad. Its ok to miss him. It makes tomorrow a little easier.
But, food wasn't on my agenda of things that I cared about. I ate what was there and convenient, and a lot of nights I comfort-ate as well. And it has caught up to me. I find myself looking in a mirror and hating what I see. But then I look at my children, and the love they have for me, and know that I can change it for them. They love me regardless, and my life has been focused 100% on them. I have to do something for me. I want to live to see my grandchildren grow up. So if you see me, please don't be disgusted at how I look now. I am going to do something about it, starting now. I have to, for my kids. For my family. For Khoen. And until this point, I just didn't have it in me.
If you meet someone, or know someone, who has recently lost a child, don't ask them how they are doing. Just tell them you are thinking of them and praying for them. Tell them you still care. Tell them you remember their baby, even if its been 20 years. Losing a child hurts, and although we learn to deal with the pain, it doesn't go away.
SIDS isn't rare, and it doesn't discriminate. I never thought it could happen to my family, yet here I am. I did everything right...back to sleep, no smoking, didn't put them to sleep with a propped bottle, I could go through the whole list. And, Khoen still stopped breathing. It happens. All you can do is pray, and trust God that, no matter his path for your life, He will carry you through.
To my other angel mommies, I am thinking of you today and always. To the ones who still show me they care, thank you. And to the people who have had no clue what to say and still don't, thats ok. Just don't avoid me, that doesn't help. Don't be afraid to say Khoen, I chose his name because I love it, and I love him, so I love hearing his name.
Thank you to everyone who has prayed for my family. I would not be where I am today without you. I am the happy mommy of a 5 year old drama queen, an almost 3 year old diva, and almost 2 year old twin boys, my little sweetheart and my angel. And I couldn't be more proud.
Khoen, I miss you every single second of every single minute of every single hour of every single day, and I mean that. But, thank you for showing me that you are near when I need it the most. Mommy loves you so incredibly much, and I can't wait to see you in Heaven. Help my stay strong, sweet boy. Stay by your siblings and continue to let them know you are near them. Stay close to daddy and remind him how much you love him. We all miss you, and we are all doing our best. We love you, baby. Love Always & Forever, Mommy <3
**If you read this whole blog, thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to share the most painful parts of me with you. I cried the whole way through, but can now say that I am smiling, and feel relieved that I have shared with those who wanted to know. Again, thank you, and so much love to you.**
