Home

We are home now (Saturday 08/01/2009.) We have been home for several hours. As I look outside my living room window there is a different view. I see trees and stillness. This is normally what I love about living outside the city. Ironically I found the constant flow of traffic and the steady glow of lights soothing while I was at the hospital. It was something for my eyes to see, a small distraction from the horrible pain of this loss.

It's not all bad. I am home after all. My dogs are at my feet and have provided a mixture of comfort and sadness. I know they would've enjoyed a new member in the the family and that knowledge makes me sad. They are good and gentle dogs, though Sgt. Pepper does step on toes from time to time in states of excited delirium. I also am enjoying a bag of candy, well the second bag but I am not counting for a while.

We spent some time in Kathlyn's room. Beth wanted to pick out some outfits and a toy to give the funeral home. Beth made sure the purple puppy I picked out went with her. The shirt with Daddy on it hit pretty hard and produced the only tears of the day for me. I am in a weird predicament. I am grieving the loss but have to be strong enough to help out Beth. She is recovering from the worst practical joke ever. Major surgery to recover our daughter.

Because of this I am stuck between helper and mourner. Worst yet is the whole time in the hospital Beth was the patient. She received all the care from the staff. I was just the husband. Only the doctors today spoke to me as a patient. The nurses were sweet, they asked me if I needed anything, but not much further than that. I harbor no ill will. I understand their job is to treat the medical patient. My job is colder. I cannot console just secure a scene and let nobody in. I just felt adrift at times. Visitors have been my saving grace.

Beth kept busy tonight collecting ultrasound pictures and amending the baby book. It all came crashing down around 11 pm. She broke down. I was lucky to have her mother and my parents at the time. I am too exhausted today. I am not much help. She now sleeps next to me on our fluffy leather couches she so proudly bought with her new nursing money when she graduated last year. She first beat herself up wondering if sleeping here on Wednesday night led to our loss. It did not. The doctors know that, I know that and so does Beth. She is grieving.

Now we are home. We must face the pain of seeing her nursery and all the items one collects in preparation for that joyous day. Another practical joke! We have sent open invitations to all to come freely. We need the visits to continue. I need “The Plan” to continue. I do not think I will have the strength to help Beth through her physical healing without it. I know “the plan” is still in motion. My sister called and is on her way. This happened right as my parents were walking into the pharmacy when I was walking out with Beth's medication. Sometimes “coincidences” are very nice.