It's nights like tonight(last night, since it's morning now) that drive me bat shit crazy! We went to bed around 3:30 am, not unusual for the weekend. But I layed in bed for 2 hours trying to sleep, obviously I was unsuccessful.
Thoughts race through my mind the moment my head hits the pillow, regardless of how tired I am. Tonight's episode was centered around Jack as per usual. Normally I can direct the thoughts to positive ones like picturing him as a 3, going on 4 year old running around with the dogs or playing in the dirt, excited to show me the neatest bug he just found. I secretly try to steer these thoughts into a dream with my sweet boy. Unfortunately, I don't get to have these magical moments. I don't know why I can't dream about Jack. He's constantly on mind, he's the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and go to bed at night.
Instead my brain goes for the gut and I relive every moment leading up to Jack's birth and his death. Worse, I wonder why I didn't DEMAND the doctors to sew me shut (they would have, had they been able to stop the contractions) or FORCE them to TRY and help our son live by intubating or whatever necessary. He was SO STRONG! They told us, he would only live for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes. But Jack LIVED for 4 hours! Who made up this rule, that only life saving measures will be taken if the baby is 22 weeks? Why did I just accept this rule? Had I put up a fight, would someone have caved and tried to help Jack? Shouldn't they take them on a case by case basis? On the one hand, I know the hospital wouldn't have done anything, except maybe restrain me or knock me out if I tried to fight them. On the other hand, I will always feel like maybe I didn't Fight hard enough for my son. This devastates me. Eats me up inside when all the distractions are gone and I'm alone with my thoughts, head on my pillow....the guilt I live with. My son I live without.
I Miss You Jack! I'm SO Sorry! I Love You, Always and Forever!