Missed Chance

Five days passed between Noah's death and his memorial service. I don't remember much of that time. I was still in shock and just too tired. It all feels like a dream, excluding a few parts. Noah passed early on Sunday morning. Someone got us to sign off on an autopsy so his body was sent to a town a few hours away. I really try not to think to much of this because it makes me sick now when I think about it. They had to take him elsewhere in order to do the genetic testing. At the time, I thought I wanted this. I so desperately wanted to know what caused all of Noah's problems. In the end, the testing wasn't done because the cells didn't grow that they needed. So I guess we will never really know.

Two years ago tonight, I visited the funeral home for the last time. Noah had been brought back. The director asked if I wanted to see him before he was cremated. My insides were screaming yes and my mind said no. I told him no. What kind of mother am I to not want to see her baby again? I was just so afraid that I wouldn't be able to leave. Leaving the hospital was the hardest thing I have ever done. I didn't have the strength to leave my baby one more time. I regret that decision now. I think I was afraid to know what he would look like following the autopsy. I was scared. I would give anything now to have seen him one more time. A chance to see his angelic face, his long, delicate fingers, and those bow lips. I know he wouldn't have looked like my Noah, but it would have been a chance. I have always had issues with viewings at funeral. The image sticks with me and I see that when I think of the person. I want to remember him alive. I guess I am still torn on the matter.

Noah was cremated that night. My stomach turns when I think about it. I know it is just a shell, but that was my baby. They asked if we wanted his clothes and his blanket back. I remember thinking that he needed his clothes so I asked that he be wearing his striped sleeper. Why did he need clothes? I was just so irrational at the time. I will admit, I found that same sleeper on ebay and impulsively bought it one day. When it arrived, I realized I was simply reaching for something to remind me of him. I did ask for his blanket back. I wanted something to hold. I wanted to smell his sweet smell. When they returned it, I buried my face in the blanket only to be met with the smell of smoke. Cigarette smoke. I just collapsed and cried. My last chance to inhale him and some asshole had to take his smoke break around my lifeless son. I know it is just a blanket, but that feeling was devastating. I desperately needed something to hold onto that was his. When we returned home, my mother in law washed it in the baby detergent and returned it to me. Sometimes, I still sleep with that blanket. I just hold it and remember my boy wrapped up.

The decision of whether or not to see Noah one last time still haunts me. I did what I felt I had the strength for at the time, but I missed my last chance to see him. I may always regret that choice, but I guess I must forgive myself. He wasn't actually there anyway. Just a shell, not his soul.