Now What?

Life after losing Sawyer has been difficult. Nothing could've prepared us for what this would feel like. Ron and I have been a whirlwind of intense emotions and have never cried so much. The one emotion we both were unprepared for was just a feeling of emptiness or nothingness. I had no idea how we would manage to get through those first few days without him, but we did.

It seemed like an accomplishment to do activities of daily living like getting out of bed, showering, and eating 3 meals a day. Without Ron putting food in front of me and telling me to eat, I probably wouldn't have eaten for days. I didn't see the point. Food wasn't going to make my heart hurt any less. We've both now reached the point in our grieving where food is our friend...

It was a strange feeling to one moment have your whole life revolve around the needs of an adorable helpless little baby and then one moment have nobody to take care of other than my husband. I miss everything about being a mom. I miss not sleeping, changing diapers, cleaning bottles, doing his laundry, and calming him when he's screaming in my ear. I miss all the things that other moms love to moan and complain about. I miss seeing Ron with Sawyer and seeing how great of a dad he was to him. I miss how complete our family felt when we had Sawyer. Ron and I have each other, but it still feels lonely.

I spent a lot of time in Sawyer's room the first week that he was gone. I like to sit in the rocking chair and just look around his room and cry over the loss of him. I like to look at all the things we bought for him and touch all his clothes. It's hard for me to imagine his room belonging to another child, not only because it's hard to picture the adoption of a child actually working out for us, but because I feel that everything in that nursery belongs to Sawyer. I don't want a different baby to put in the nursery, I want Sawyer back in the nursery. I have a pile of clean laundry in his crib that I just can't bear to fold and put away. I want to because I love folding his tiny cute clothes, but once I do it, I don't get to do it again.  After everything that happened with C in August, we closed the nursery room door and kept it closed until Sawyer came home with us. This time around the door is open. I have no desire to shut it. I look inside every time I walk by. It's a reminder of the happiness we had and also of the sadness we now feel.

There are reminders of Sawyer all over our home. We've displayed pictures of him and we still haven't taken the swing out of the living room or one of his many pacifiers off of the coffee table. It would be like officially saying goodbye to Sawyer and that we are 100% certain that he's not coming back. We aren't ready to do that yet, as pathetic as that may sound. It's definitely less pathetic than me wearing the same dirty jeans for 3 days in a row after he was taken that he peed all over on his last day with us. I know that it was gross but I didn't care. It was a memory of him and it was strangely comforting. Ron and my Dad constructed a star in lights that is hung in one of our redwood trees in memory of our time with Sawyer. This was extremely important to Ron because he picked a random star in the sky for me back when we were dating and we always look for it in the sky. Ron didn't have a chance to pick a star for Sawyer while he was with us, so he constructed his own. Ron goes outside every night and looks at Sawyer's star and prays for him. It's sweet but breaks my heart when he comes back inside and I can tell he has been crying.

Five days after Sawyer was taken I received a call from Department of Social Services. They were calling to schedule visitation with his birth mom. It took everything in me to not yell at the person on the other end of the line even though I knew that person wasn't responsible for this mess. I couldn't believe that Social Services was so disorganized that 5 days after he was taken they still hadn't updated their records to show where Sawyer's new home was. His birth mom had not called to schedule visitation in 3 weeks. So part of me was thrilled that his new family would have to deal with the inconvenience of driving from Sacramento to Fresno 2 times per week for a 1 hour visit for the foreseeable future (at least 6 months) with their 3 biological children (the oldest child is 5 years old) and his half sister. The other part of me felt bad that Sawyer would be stuck in a car seat for long periods of time.

Going back to work has been difficult for both of us. The "How is your baby?" or "How do you like being a mom/dad?" questions seem to be never ending. These questions are hard to answer because we don't want to be rude but don't want to get into the details either. Most of the time our answers are filled with tears, which is embarrassing. We are both getting better at putting on a happy face and pretending to be fine. Fake it until you make it, right?

The one positive aspect to this horrible situation we have went through is that I've learned a lot about grieving. I've learned from others what should be said in trying times and what shouldn't be said. I have never known what to say other than "I'm sorry" and always felt like that was lame. Now from my own experience I can say that I would rather people only say "I'm sorry" and then stop talking. It's okay to not know what to say. Sometimes a hug can say it all. We are not looking for advice, especially when the people trying to offer advice have a perfect little family and have no idea what we are going through. I can't figure out why there is this stigma that people who are grieving want to be left alone. We didn't need space. We wanted to feel loved and to be distracted from our pain. We started to get the impression that people were afraid of us. Why else would there be this eerie silence? The only phone calls I've received or visitors we've received in the past 17 days are from my parents. I know that the world doesn't revolve around us but it felt like our lives were at a standstill and everyone else went on with their happy lives. Please note that I'm not looking for apologies or trying to make anyone feel bad. I'm merely expressing how I have felt. Thank you to those of you that sent flowers, cards, or text messages of encouragement. It means more than you know.

The burning question only few have been ballsy enough to ask is, "What are we going to do now?" We are going to continue our search for our 'forever child'. As much as I don't want to put any other child back in the nursery other than Sawyer, I can't be naive. Putting another child in there feels like I am replacing him even though I know he can never be replaced. Although, we are pretty sure that the only thing that is going to make us feel better is to have a baby in the house again. And if we are blessed with a girl next time, she might have to dress like a boy because we have so many boy clothes. The day after Sawyer was taken Department of Social Services was already trying to place other children with us. Really? They steal him from us because of their own mistake and then 'try to make it better' by seeing if we want a 3 month old. Then a few days later they had a 3 year old, then a 2 year old, then a 6 month old. The worst was a newborn whose birth mom died during childbirth, but there was an uncle coming from out of state hoping to be eligible for placement. The birthfather ended up showing up a few days later and taking the baby. Our social worker yelled at them for this last 'possibility'. I think it's safe to say that Social Services knows they screwed up. None of these possibilities felt right. Maybe because it's too soon or maybe because these children aren't meant to have us as parents. We aren't trying to be picky, but we want a newborn. One month or younger to be exact. I think with everything we haven been through we are allowed to be somewhat picky. Only time will tell if the next child we bring into our home will be another foster child or from a birth mom that has specifically chosen us. We've seen first hand that either way it is risky. Both ways have failed us. In the mean time we will continue to let our hearts heal, try to live life as normally as possible, and pray for a miracle.

Until next time...