sadness and joy, part 4

We arrived Friday for surgery. We were rushed back immediately. I was once again blessed with a sweet nurse. She too had suffered a loss.

We hadn't been there long when my doctor came in. He explained what he was going to do, and the possible difficulties. Once again, heavy bleeding, damaged uterus, complete hysterectomy, and death. That is always a fun waiver to sign.

After surgery, I was in the recovery room for what seemed like forever. I could hear people talking around me, and I was freezing. I was ready to go home.

I was finally given the all clear to head home, all I had to do was get up, get dressed, make it to the bathroom and be successful at making a tinkle. Easier said than done. I haven't mentioned the broken foot and walking boot so far, but flashback a few weeks to January 6, I fell and broke my foot. Being a week out from having a baby and a few hours out of having surgery, this was no easy task. I was finally able to wrestle myself into the pajama pants that I had worn to the hospital, with the help of my amazing husband. The nurse was nice enough to wheel me over to the restroom where I was able to successfully complete my mission. The nurse called down to the lobby to have a volunteer wheel me down to the car. Why do hospital volunteers have to be so joyous and cheerful?? And why do nurses not warn them in times they really shouldn't be?? We had the sweetest elderly gentleman helping us out, normally this would not have been a problem, but he wanted to chat. He started the conversation off with, "Well young lady, how are YOU today?" and I lost it. I don't even think he realized it at first.  He began rambling on about I don't even know what, he tried repeatedly to engage me in small talk. When he finally took a breath and looked down, he realized that I was in tears. He asked me what was wrong, so I told him. Poor guy.

We received word sometime during the time we were at the hospital that Holden's ashes were finally ready. We left the hospital and grabbed a quick lunch for the road.

The drive from the hospital to the funeral home was the longest ride I think I have ever been on. When we finally arrived, I stumbled out of the car and hobbled inside with the help of my husband. The lady who greeted us was so kind, she met us at the door and asked if we were Holden's parents. We told her yes and she led us into her office. She grabbed a small plastic container and a nice folder. As she was grabbing the plastic container holding his ashes, she dropped it. Of course I was already in tears and this did not help one bit. She was apologetic, but it hurt my feelings. We took the plastic urn and had a quick peek inside. It was harder than I had imagined it would be. We took the folder containing his death certificate and his small plastic urn, and we left. I found a small piece of joy in my time of sadness. My son was finally back in my arms, though not the way I had longed for him to be.

We knew we could not keep his ashes in a generic plastic urn so once I was up to it, I started my search for the perfect resting spot for our boy. One day, while scrolling a Disney page on Facebook of all places, I saw a post that a lady had made about her "son" but the picture was of a soft, cuddly teddy bear. I read back through some of the comments and came to the conclusion that she had lost her son and that the teddy bear was an urn. I began to google "teddy bear urns" immediately. Thankfully, it didn't take long for me to find what I was looking for. There were many kinds to choose from, but I knew I that I did not want a regular looking teddy bear. I wanted him to look different. Finally after going back and forth between about four bears, I decided on one that I loved and I ordered it immediately. It didn't take long to arrive. Although, once the bear arrived, I did not immediately transfer his ashes, it was just too hard for me. I left the bear beside my bed for weeks.

Once I had gotten myself together enough, I contacted a dear friend and asked her if she would help me work on a memorial ceremony for my sweet Holden. Of course she agreed. I had a basic idea of what I wanted to do, I just had to work out the details, and that was just something I was not emotionally able to do. I told my precious friend that I knew I wanted to do a simple service and a balloon release, I left the rest up to her. She contacted the church where we were to have the service and set up a meeting with one of the pastors and she met us there to work out the date and a few details. I contacted a close family friend, who is a youth pastor, and asked him if he would officiate the service for us. He said he would be honored. I should probably mention, he is the brother of the two angels mentioned in a previous post, sister number one who arrived to pray with us the night we checked into the hospital, sister number two who arrived to pray with us just as we delivered our sweet Holden.

We knew we needed to be able to give everyone a chance to plan on joining us at the memorial, time for me to get stronger physically, and my super friend needed time to work out all of the details. We planned to have the service on Saturday, January 28, 2017.

When the day finally arrived, I was a wreck. I felt a little better physically, but emotionally, not so much. I was nervous about everything. What if no one came? What if I couldn't make it through? So many things were on my mind as we drove away from the house that morning.