the vet sent a card?

I needed to hold something tangible today to remember my son.  I slipped into his room for a few quiet moments to organizer a few momentoes.  I started to read through some of the beautiful cards and notes we received. One made me laugh.

In the stack of cards was one signed by the entire staff... at our vet's office!  Our old lab died a few days after the funeral.  we took her to our vet wrapped in a quilt.  We must have looked like maniacs.  I had been crying for days.  I had no eyelashes, my cheeks were burnt raw, and I still looked pregnant.  Nate looked like he hadn't slept in a year.  Neither one of us could put together a coherent sentence.  We just watched as they took her away and handed over a creditcard in silence. 

That sweet office had no idea what was really going on.  Yet they treated us with so much love. I remember them telling us what a wonderful life we gave her to have lived 15 yrs.  I remember sobbing on the way home thinking sure, I can keep a DOG alive... That card seemed ridiculous when it arrived a few days later. I tossed it in the stack and haven't thought of it since.

Now it strikes me as ridiculous that we received a card from the vet for our sweet old dog,  but I never heard another word from the callous high risk doctor that never had the compassion to say the words that CJ had died.  The people that were there at the darkest moment of my life.  Does that tech and doctor even remember us? My first instinct is that it is fear of a malpractice suit. How sad that kindness is mistaken for weakness or fault. Then I had to wonder if they have been desensitized to the loss of a child.  Every women seen in that office is high risk. Does that make our babies simply just a fetus so they can stay disconnected? How sad.  My ob is a wonderful woman who had cried and prayed with me.  I wish she had given us the news.

I hope by sharing this, I can let it go.  Holding on to it isn't helping me heal. I want my memories of my beautiful boy to be of that moment of awe when I held my son.  Kissing his sweet little face. Touching his tiny perfect toes.  Hopefully with time the rest of the memories will fade.

Cabin fever is setting in here in "Chiberia".  Lots of time to think.  Praying that I can focus more on the blessings and find some hope in the future.  huh-  again with the "hope".  guess i better keep working on it! #doitforcj