Because it's obsess about my iPhone or fall apart

Keith called me yesterday at work and asked how I was doing.  I told him I was throwing myself into my lost iPhone.  Researching possibilities, looking for new/used phone options, ebaying, amazoning, etc.  Burying myself in my lost iPhone.  Why?  Well, if you have an iPhone you don't really NEED an explanation :)  No, really, I know how stupid that sounds, but it only sounds stupid if you don't have one.  And if you lost it in the midst of needing some really major distraction to get through the week... or month, it's a GREAT way to obsess.  Because it's obsess about my iPhone or fall apart.

The stupid computer wouldn't work Tuesday when we got home, so I couldn't adequately vent.  So I've been stuffing it for days.  The doctor's appointment was only frustrating.  No great miracles.  No changes for Everett of any kind.  This time, however, we're told that the neonatologist has the final word in what will be done if Everett is born living.  That was new info on two fronts:  Everett might ACTUALLY survive delivery?  Small chance, since each deformity increases his risk of preterm miscarriage/stillbirth... and his congenital diaphragmatic hernia is a 50% miscarriage rate at best.  And that's just one of six major problems.  That the doctors could come sweep him out of our arms is absolutely infuriating.  And it would be doctors that we don't even know because, (new info,too) she doesn't think I can deliver at Cherokee Northside, since she seems to think it'll be a live birth.  What?  Because everyone else has told us it's *our* choice.  That it didn't really matter *where* because Everett wouldn't make it through delivery, and if he did, it would be palliative care (ie hold your baby til he dies-- minutes at most), no need for a level 3 nursery... or that intervention of any kind would even help.  And I'll be damned if some doctor/team is going to steal any of the precious moments we might have with a living son.  I was FURIOUS.  And it still makes me mad.  I still boil a little every time I think about it. At that point, I kept asking-- and finally started repeating all of the deformities-- what's the REAL LIKELIHOOD of a live birth?  I mean, we'd been told to this point, slim to none, no chance of going home; likely, it will be a stillbirth, noticed by cessation of fetal movement the day of or before his induced stillborn delivery.  WHY CAN'T ANYONE JUST LEVEL WITH US!?!?!   We had already accepted the fate of our baby, what is this new idea that he could live (if only for a few minutes) and the doctors get to decide what will and won't be done?!?!

And then she did her own ultrasound and seemed to change her tune a little.  Not really talking about a live birth too much at that point.  HAVE YOU NOT READ THE STUPID CHART WOMAN?!?!   UGH. So we ask about the hospital procedures for stillborn babies and their... removal from the hospital.  Funeral director?  Cremation on site?  She can't tell us anything. So frustrating.  This is where parents come when their baby is going to die... AND YOU CAN'T TELL ME THE NORMAL PROCEDURES??  You have to REFER me to ANOTHER specialist?  Modern American medicine at its best.  Not to mention it had been 3 hours since we arrived and we were finally leaving.  At 6.  At Northside Hospital.  On 285.  At 400.  Going home at the moment wasn't really an option.

So we found some dinner.  And we rehash what just happened.  Totally different perspectives, both frustrated by the whole thing, though.  So then Keith wanted to talk about "the plans".  At that point, I had to check out emotionally and it's the first time that he really has "checked in".  He wants a funeral, no viewing, no embalming, but a casket and set burial site.  He doesn't know how he feels about cremation.  He seems to think every one is cremated together and you get back what you get back.  I have only one major thought: What does it matter?  It's a lifeless, soulless body.  Who cares what form it takes?  A funeral is going to kill us financially.  The last thing we need on top of all THIS stress is MORE financial tightness.  I don't know what I'd do with ashes... or even care if I get ashes.  I'll go back to the ultrasound pictures and DVDs, the writing, and pictures we're going to take.  I don't know that I *need* a place to go back to.  Besides, with two little boys, it'll be YEARS before we can actually go in peace unless we get someone to keep them.  Maybe I feel that way because I've worked on cadavers.  I don't know.  He didn't understand that *at all* and asked what I would do if money wasn't an issue.... at which point I couldn't hold it together anymore.  And I told him, I HAVE to think about it logically/financially because I can't bear the thought of planning my Everett's burial.  No matter the form.  I can't handle thinking about burying my baby.  But we have to.  And I just... I can't.

I can't envision a tiny little casket.  I can't think about it being lowered into the ground where I can't hold him anymore.  Where I can't hear him cry.  Where I can't kiss his little face. I can't envision a hideous urn full of ashes that used to be my baby.  I can't do it.

I can't do it and run my office.   I can't do it and bring in new patients.  I can't do it and bring in a new doctor.  I can't do it and enjoy my boys.  I can't do it and go to church.  I can't do it and have a conversation.  I can't do it.

I can't think about making the plans for the burial of my baby.  I can't do it and survive the daily grind.   I can't do it and fight the despair that lingers so closely to my heart.

So I obsess.  About my lost iPhone.  I search constantly.  I check out other phones every second I can.  I can't even pour myself into work as many people do, because so much of my work is changing BECAUSE I'll be burying my son before the middle of May.  I think about every possible place the phone could be between the kitchen counter and Grandma's house.  I run through last Thursday as if it was my favorite scene in my favorite movie.

So I obsess about my iPhone.  Because I cry when I see my good friend's new baby pictures.  Doesn't take away my happiness for that family... but it reminds me that I'll never bring my Everett home.  He'll never lay on my lap, pink and sleeping all balled up for a picture.  He won't "voluntarily" hold my finger.

So I obsess about my lost iPhone. Because I cry when I read of a high school friend's loss of an unborn child.  Because I cry if sit still too long.  Because even though I'm happy for a friend who just found out about her pregnancy, I'm terrified for her all at the same time.  I pray-- dear God, PLEASE keep her from this pain.  PLEASE  give her a healthy baby.  PLEASE God don't let *this* be her reality.  I think of a friend who's baby has cancer and is going through chemo-- and I beg.  I plead.  With the ceiling to heal that precious little girl.  Take these fears from her parents.  Take this pain from her body.  Take this stress from the family.

And damn if it all just feels pointless sometimes.  The praying.  The obsessing.  The distractions.  Because at the end of the day, when it's all quiet, it's me and Everett.  Laying in the bed (or on floor between the boys), feeling him kick and roll.  Hoping somehow it never stops.  Hoping against all reality that God will 'show off' and use us to show his power instead of his love.  I lay there wondering if our marriage will survive this awful reality that looms before us as I feel myself withdrawing from anyone and everyone because it's too painful to engage emotionally face to face.  I wonder if the office will survive my absence.  I wonder if I will create the financial ruin of our family.  And then I wonder if I'll ever find my iPhone.  Because I can't go any further into my hurt at that point.

So I obsess.  Over my lost iPhone.  Because otherwise, I can't survive this painful reality..