It's been 9 days since I met my little boy, and found out that I wouldn't get to take him home. In that time I've experienced many feelings and emotions, some of them familiar (I've laid my mom to rest, so grief isn't new to me) and some of them brand new.
My biggest companions right now are sadness, guilt, depression and frustration. I know I'll be dealing with these feelings for a long time, even though I can try to rationalize away the guilt (it's not my fault he died, I wasn't selfish for electing to try vaginal birth instead of going for the planned C-section, babies were *meant* to be born vaginally, etc. etc.)
I am still knitting, though I'm sure some would say I shouldn't. I need to keep my hands busy, and my hooks and needles have been my companions for a long time. I've made a few things since we lost Freddy, small things. I also started a blanket that I intend to donate to the hospital where Freddy was taken. They wrapped Freddy in a blanket, and then I wrapped him in one I had brought, so I could keep that one. It's the only thing I have that he wore, and I would protect it as fiercely as I would protect him or Tiri.
We laid Freddy to rest on Monday, he is sleeping in his little white casket on Mom's grave, waiting for Jehovah's call. (John 5:28, 29; Acts 24:15; Revelation 20: 12, 13)