Have You Met My Baby?

                The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,

                By it never fails to bring music to my ears.

                If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of his name.

                It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul.

                                                                                                -Author Unknown

I want to introduce you to my son.  His name is Wyatt Nicholas.  He was born October 6, 2005.  I carried him inside me for 9 beautiful months, 40 exciting weeks.  I won’t lie to you, it was a tough pregnancy.  I was incredibly nauseous for the first 20 weeks or so and had unbelievable back pain sprinkled throughout the months, but it was a joyful pregnancy none the less.  We religiously followed our pregnancy with the What to Expect …book.  We read Good Night Moon, Guess How Much I Love You, and countless Dr. Seuss books to him in utero every night before we fell asleep.    We painted his nursery with love and care decorating it with prints and photos of favorite storybooks.  We had baby showers galore and a closet jam-packed with precious tiny baby clothes.  We had an uneventful pregnancy with every appointment getting us closer and closer to the finish line.  We could not wait to meet our son, we had done everything we could to prepare for his arrival and we were over the moon. 

Little did we know what hell and mayhem were waiting for us around the corner.  I was 40 weeks pregnant, home alone and began bleeding and was panic stricken.  Rob came home and we went to the hospital immediately.  Once we got there, they found Wyatt’s heartbeat and told us everything was a-okay, I was just in the beginning stages of labor.  A long labor followed, then another false alarm, his heart rate dropped while pushing, I was rushed for an emergency c-section, then he bounced back and more pushing resumed.  Then it happened again.  And this is the moment that my world began to stop. This is the moment that has changed me forever.  This is the moment that I have defined as the worst moment of my life (and I desperately hope it stays that way).  Again, I was rushed back to the operating room for an emergency c-section, although this time the reality of the false alarms was realized.  It was apparent that the false alarms were never really false at all. Time froze.  Terror, panic, horror flooded me.  I tried to replace the realization of my worst nightmares with prayers, mantras, and happy places.  I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t feel anything, I just had to hold my husband’s hand, looked into his scared eyes and wait.  Wyatt Nicholas Hobek was born on October 6, 2005 at 6:30 am and was 8 lbs, 4 oz and 21 inches long.  He was not breathing on his own.  I did not get to hold him or see him.  He was whisked away from me in an attempt to save his life.  They couldn’t.  He lived for four hours and then he died, in my arms.  I finally got to hold him when he took his last breath. 

There is so much more to this story, but I know it’s a hard story to swallow, trust me, it’s a story I still find hard to believe.  And I am not telling you this story to make you sad or so that you will feel sorry for me.  To revisit our conversation from last week, I am telling you this because I need my story to be heard:   I want you to know my story, my son’s story, my family’s story.  I desperately wish that this story didn’t have to be a hidden part of my life.  There are so many complications in having a story such as this.  There are so many times when questions arise in innocent conversations and I struggle with how to answer them.  When you ask me how many children I have, I feel I have to tell you one, because I don’t want you to feel awkward when you don’t know how to respond if I tell you my truth.  When you ask me if Abigail is my first born or if she’s an only child, I nod reluctantly, to save you from the horrible pain that I have endured.  I carry pictures of both my children, but when I show them to you, I keep his hidden to be sure that my reality doesn’t make you uncomfortable.  But just so we’re clear, just to be sure you understand:  I do these things to protect you, not me.  I hurt when I deny his existence and my heart breaks a little every time I lie.  I tell you I only have one child, but in my heart I will always hold two.  I am not ashamed of my past.  I am proud.  I am honored that I was allowed to carry him for 9 amazing months, that I was chosen to be his mother, that I was able to love him in the time that I was given.  He was truly a gift and I will hold on to that for as long as I live.  So all I’m asking from you is to allow me to remember him from time to time, to let my story escape from my past on occasion, to let me honor my first-born child and acknowledge his existence in this world, even if it was fleeting. 

“….Afraid no more of tears and pain, more scared when they go I will lose you again.”       

These scenarios get even more complicated with our recent loss, and I have realized that this is another post for another day….so I hope you will continue to read and listen, there is so much more I have to say and so much more I have yet to experience (happy things too, I know this to be true!)...