The past two nights, I have been plagued by a wandering mind. Sleep evades me. Last night I wrote a blog about my first day at work. Once I’d finished I found myself reading the one before that, and the one before that, and before I knew it, I had reread all my journals. Knowing I should go to sleep, I shut my laptop down, and just laid there. My mind wouldn’t shut off.
Tonight, I lay in bed and think. I think about Logan; about his time here with me. I don’t remember much from the hospital, that’s not the Logan I remember. I tell Josh all the time, it’s like I have two different babies. The Logan from the hospital is a mystery to me in so many ways. I try to vividly remember what those days were like. It’s hard, I have to force those memories. I think the combination of the drugs, the exhaustion, the hormones, emotions, recovery from major surgery; it all made this cocktail that makes my memory fuzzy. But the Logan that came home, that’s the baby I remember. These memories are more vivid for me.
I often think of how much I don’t remember and how sad it makes me. Being back at work has given me a fear of forgetfulness. I’m trying so hard to get back into a routine of life, and quite honestly it hasn’t been that difficult. I think it’s been good for all of us actually. But I worry that with our busy schedules, what time do I have left to remember Logan? When I was home, I had ample time to sit and think about Logan. To look at pictures and write him letters. To snuggle with his stuffed animals. To cry and feel my emotions. I laugh at work. It’s not forced, I actually am enjoying life. I don’t feel guilty for that. I used to. I don’t feel guilty about not having time to think about Logan as much as I did, I just feel sad. I want to have ample time to think about him. I want to be able to sit in his room and write him letters. I worry that I will be so caught up in our lives, that I will forget him. I will forget what it felt like to hold him, kiss him and love him. Wyatt is here everyday to remind me of himself. But what about Logan? I have pictures around the house and he has his own room. But I barely have time for myself. I feel emotional sitting here writing this, I miss him.
Tonight I find myself wishing I had taken more videos. The pictures are great to look at, but the video’s make him so much more real to me. It vividly reminds me of his squishy cheeks, his soft nose and lips. His little huff he’d make when yawning. He always made these cute scrunch faces right before he’d yawn. I loved it. I wish I had spent more time looking at him. I loved our cuddle time with skin to skin. But I wish I would have taken the time to just lay next to him and just really look at him. Memorize every detail about him. I never thought I’d have another fear after losing Logan. How could you fear anything more than losing your child? But I can name one, forgetting.
After Logan passed, we kept him for about 3 hours before taking him to the funeral home. In that time, I gave him his first bath. Josh and I took showers. And we spent a little time with him. And of course Hospice took up quite a bit of time as well. I wish I would have spent more time with him before taking him to the funeral home. In hindsight I wish I would’ve looked over his entire body and memorized it. Counted his toes and fingers. I wish I would’ve spent time inspecting his encephalocele. Wyatt was very curious, and I let him touch it and look at it. I wanted him to get what he needed from the experience. But the mother in me felt like I still had to take care of him, even though I knew he was no longer alive. I placed a towel in the bottom of the sink so he’d have something soft to sit on. I made sure the water temperature was just right. I swaddled him in a towel. I put lotion on him. I kept his diaper off because I knew how it poked his skin. I quickly dressed him because I didn’t want him to be cold. I didn’t want anyone staring at his dead body. He was my baby, he needed to be respected. But I wish I would have taken that time to see my baby. I wish I would’ve spent more time curled up next to him. I could feel his temperature change and his body stiffen with rigor. You don’t really know what you need until it’s too late. So much I wish I could changed.
I know I need to go to bed, but all I feel like doing is sitting in Logan’s chair. I can feel the rabbit hole opening up beneath my feet. The more I type, the more emotions are slipping out and the wider the sink hole gets.