Tuesday, October 20, 2009

What's In A Life?

Today it seems important to remember the past. It seems disloyal somehow to forget what happened five years ago today. Tonight at around 8:00 pm in 2004, I gave birth to a baby boy. A baby who could have been one of the 34 embryos who (that?) didn't implant or one of the two who implanted for just a few weeks. He had serious birth defects that made him non-viable outside the womb. In a way, he was a pregnancy that went on too long.

Why do I feel the need to honor and remember him when I don't feel the same about the other 34 embryos? In the end, they all had the same potential to life.

I don't believe in a soul. Whoever Ernest might have been had he been well, I will never know. I didn't know him at all. He no longer exists. He was all potential or, more accurately, perceived potential. By all logic, I could let this day pass like the days that I miscarried or days were I am reminded of events during my failed IVF cycles - a moment of sadness or reflection or even to just push the memory out of my mind.

I don't want to be sad today. I don't know how to remember and not be sad. It seems important to remember - as if to tell Ernest, "We remember you." Which makes no sense if he no longer exists.

I don't know. Perhaps we can mark the day in a way that emphasizes and celebrates what we do have while still acknowledging what we lost. In years past, we went geocaching but last year seemed rushed (to beat the setting sun - our first year that we weren't either off work or it landed on a weekend) so I think we will do something different this year. I suppose Brad and I will decide when he gets home.

Oh, Ernest, I wish you were here.

16 comments:

Summer said...

Earnest may no longer exist, but the fact that he existed long enough for you to give birth means it is important for you to remember him. On this day and on others as well.

Thinking of your Earnest today.

Virginia said...

Oh, I think it makes sense, wanting to honor him. He was a being, more fully formed than the other embryos, imperfect, but yours.

Sara said...

I'm so sorry, Kami.

tireegal68 said...

Dear Kami,
I just read Ernest's birth story. It sounds so excruciatingly painful. I am so sorry you had to go through that hell with all those horrible doctors and nurses who didn't care about you and your DH and Ernest, they cared about doing what they knew how to do and not thinking there was something more important. It sounds like thankfully you had some great support from the two women who were present for a large part of it.
Thank you for sharing your story. I am glad that through DE you are able to be parents. I am doing my first DE cycle in a month so your subsequent story spells hope for me.

Lavender Luz said...

Abiding with you, Kami. You have made me think and feel with this post.

Leah and Maya said...

you always rember those who existed and he did indeed exicst and was an important although sad part of your life inthe end, but also hope. I still remember Aug 6th that was my due date and the only reason I do becasue I didn't make it very long, was that it was the heartbeat, I heard it and to mae that was my baby and they gave me a date of when he would have been born.

battynurse said...

Thinking of you today and sending hugs.

musicmakermomma said...

I feel your pain in this post. I hope having LB and new LB (?) in your lives, while not taking away the sadness that Ernest isn't there, they maybe help you see joy in life. Not saying this well, but I feel for you and Brad.

Bee Cee said...

Thinking of you x

Lisa DG said...

Remembering him isn't soley about honoring him, but also remembering the hopes and dreams you had had when you got pregnant with Ernest. Of course this day is a very important day and, I suspect, it will always have a place in your heart.

Thinking of you on this day.

Sunny said...

I'm a day late, but I am thinking of you and Ernest right now.

I wish he was here, too.

B said...

I guess he goes on in a real way as a part of you.

Thinking of you in this time.

B

sarah said...

None of us exist without others--he exists because you were his mother, and your grief is real. I don't mourn all of my lost embryos, but I do mourn the last set that shared our genetic matieral. I also mourn Sparky who only lived for a few weeks. We mourn who we love. You love Ernest.

loribeth said...

Thinking of you & Ernest, Kami.

Lorraine said...

Remembrance is the only thing that makes sense - Ernest was born, he was your son, and he has a place in your personal history that will always be significant. It's a private marker, a chance to remember what you have been through.

I'm so grateful that you wrote the story of Ernest's birth in such stark and honest detail - it is incredibly important to share these hidden stories. Thank you for that, and for sharing the ongoing story, too.

MrsSpock said...

As I am ambivalent about whether there is a spark of us that lives on after death as well, I will say that to remember and honor your son is to remember and honor those better parts of your self that endured and thrived after his loss.

In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
Robert Green Ingersoll