Fly High, Baby Boy

As some of you may know, my aunt requested that a U.S. flag would be flown over the U.S. capitol in D.C. in honor of our Wyatt. The date was chosen at random, and the flag was in the air flapping away in the breeze on August 15, 2012.

Now, those of you that KNOW our family, know that we are a proud, patriotic family. We love each other and we love our country. Our baby boy will never get to do a lot of things, but there are things being done in his honor that some of us can only imagine being a part of. With that said, this amazing gesture was such a meaningful gift.

The flag arrived a few weeks ago, and I trembled as I took it and its accompanying papers out of the box and held it tightly against my chest. I inhaled deeply, and smiled as the thoughts of the flag flapping wonderfully in the air as millions of people glanced up at the ol' red. white, and blue poured into my mind. I cried as I realized that those people hadn't the slightest clue behind the importance of the flag on that particular day to a grieving family from a small town in Western Kentucky. But, oh, how special. My boy flew high and proud that day, I'm sure of it.

 

"This is to certify that the accompanying flag was flown over the United States Capitol on August 15, 2012. At the request of the Honorable Mitch McConnell, United States Senator, this flag was flown in memory of Wyatt Michael Forgey."

"This is to certify that the accompanying flag was flown over the United States Capitol on August, 15, 2012 for Wyatt Michael Forgey, son of Waylon and Krystal Forgey, brother to Lyla Forgey, silently born on April 25, 2012, at the request of Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell."

152 Days

It has been almost 5 months, 152 days to be exact, since our son grew his angel wings.

Update on life after loss:

I have lost all (plus a few extra pounds) of my baby weight. I've been trying to fit back into more than just my clothes, though. I've been trying to fit back into life; but it's as if my shape has changed, and I can no longer fit into the shape I once filled. Trying to form a whole new shape can be exhausting and confusing to say the least.

The phantom kicks have subsided. That only means that Wyatt's kicks and squirms are becoming distant memories. I watch videos of him making my belly move to bring back those joyful memories when I feel as though they are starting to fade. Unfortunately, I still have not been able to watch his ultrasound video yet. I'm working up the courage.

I smile more. However, the smiles don't replace the tears...sometimes they simply cover them. Please just smile back...or cry. Your tears mean more to me than you will ever know. Tears show compassion and understanding of the depth of our feelings.

I haven't taken medication for pain or to ease my anxiety since May. Some days I can tell that my body and mind wish I would give in and allow them to feel the calmness that the medications provided. But I'm no wimp. If I can handle burying my son, then I can handle a little "odd" feeling in my chest.

I have successfully surpassed a few personal hurdles that only someone who has suffered a loss such as ours would understand: watching friends and loved ones welcome their newborns safely and happily into this world, plastering a smile on my face as someone announces their pregnancy, holding precious babies with my trembling arms and a racing mind, buying baby shower gifts and cards for expecting parents, speaking of our son with a smile instead of tears (not always), applying for and receiving a "birth certificate" for a child we never got to bring home, hearing/reading of milestones reached and seeing pictures of babies with their mommies and daddies wearing great big smiles as I long for mine (both the smile and the baby), gently touching the baby boy clothes with airplanes on them as tears roll down my cheeks (in public), and making plans--that's right--any plans, because anxiety is well known for trying to come on in and wanting to trample my hopes for a good day. These are feelings and scenes I'll have to battle forever, so please don't feel awkward around me if you fit into one of the above categories. Help me. Help me by not acting as though my loss is a disease and by not condemning my actions... even if you do not understand them entirely--you are lucky that you don't.



Some days it's like a dream--or a nightmare, I guess.  I wake up thinking, "Did this really happen? Did I have months of heartburn and back pain as my little man was busy growing and getting stronger? Did I attend numerous doctor's appointments and hear his healthy heartbeat?  Did I lay on an examination table as my world collapsed around me all becasue of a silent doppler? Did I have to tell my daughter that the little brother she had been waiting on would never be ours to keep?  Did I carry a real being for 9 months only to deliver his body after his soul had already left? Did I hold and kiss the very real body of my lifeless baby? Did I watch my husband carry a miniature casket to our son's resting place? Did I kiss that cold, hard box and walk off to let someone bury my baby? Did I come home to an overly prepared baby nursery with empty arms?

yes. yes. yes. and yes.

And here I am, 152 days later.  Still standing. Still thinking of him. Still missing him. Still wanting him. Still mourning him. Still loving him.

Knowledge is Power

In the last four months I have researched more about stillbirth than all other subjects for any paper I have ever written combined. I want answers. I want proof. I want to be educated. But mostly, I want to help others to become educated, no matter how taboo the subject may be. Fetal demise is real, its sad, and it CAN happen to YOU. Some of you will probably stop reading after that last line. You don't want to even think about the possibility of MY reality becoming YOUR reality. That's not okay. You may have a friend, relative, or acquaintance that is pregnant or hoping to conceive...they need to gain knowledge
(not just about stillbirth, but any and all information pertaining to unborn and newborn babies)...knowledge that hopefully will never have to be put to personal use, but would be more beneficial to have than to not have. "Better safe than sorry" ring any bells?

In those whirlwind two days in which I went so quickly from being an expectant and joyful mother to a woman grieving the death of her son I was forced to realize how oblivious and naive I had been.  As I promptly found out, it wasn’t just me who was unprepared to handle what was happening. My doctor seemed flabbergasted. The majority of the medical staff didn't know what to say or how to say it. Family and friends were broken and confused and seemed unsure of how to approach the subject. Silence became the default coping mechanism that day, and currently is still the most prominent.


My first hand experience combined with the hours and hours of research I have read through have lead me to the saddening confirmation that stillbirth is still an unmentionable topic in our society. Let's talk about cancer and alcoholism and rare childhood diseases that will inevitably all lead to death, but don't  you DARE think about discussing the looming possibility of carrying a child full term only to deliver a lifeless baby. No one seems to want to educate themselves on the topic. Even worse, medical professionals and others are afraid to mention the issue as a proactive measure. Why didn't my doctor ever causally ask me if I was knowledgeable on the subject? It would have prompted me to look into  the issue...to gain knowledge...to gain power.

No, I am not saying that stillbirth can be prevented. However, I am not certain that specific causes can't be determined and possibly prevented. I am not 100% convinced that I had no power in saving my baby. Had I been better informed about kick counts, fetal movements in the 3rd trimester, fetal hiccups, and any other warning signs of fetal distress my little man just MIGHT still be here. (I am aware of those of you out there reading this and thinking "Silly girl, it was all God's plan and there was nothing you could do" or " Everything happens for a reason, so stop trying to explain the unexplainable." but that's okay, because as a mother, I will always feel total responsibility for keeping my children safe.)
But guess what? Those things never even crossed my mind as being crucial in the well being of my unborn child. Everything "seemed" to be normal.

Research on stillbirth has so many gaps due partially to funding, but largely to the societal cheek turn to the subject. Did you know that the term stillbirth is defined differently in various states? I mean how can research even be conducted if we can't even get a universal definition? Accurate data has no way of being collected with such conflicting ideas.

Did you know that stillbirth occurs in about 1 in 160 pregnancies? Not as rare as you thought, huh?

Did you know that placental problems, birth defects, growth restriction, and infections are the most common KNOWN causes of stillbirth?

One study has stated that UCA (umbilical cord accidents) account for the majority of stillbirths. While on the other hand, another study concludes that cord accidents only account for 2-4% of all stillbirth cases. Who would have ever thought that they'd be in that teeny tiny percentage? Not this girl. But somebody has to be.

The UCA research is the most intriguing to me, for obvious reasons, and I can't even get any straight answers that anyone is even TRYING to make strides in research or raise money for studies. I mean, I have run across a few prominent names in the professional realm of stillbirth, but its just not satisfying.  I , as a mother of one healthy baby carrying her second child, was unaware that UCA usually occur when the mother is sleeping or that more tests could be ran (that insurance probably doesn't pay for) to insure all health of the baby is good. Hello, people, why are we in the dark on this issue?

See what I mean about the research? It's conflicting. Its sad. and Its not enough.



The simple topic of stillbirth is almost forbidden in our society; we have a tendency to pretend it doesn’t happen, so we don’t talk about it. This has to change. Tens of thousands of families endure the pain and trauma of stillbirth every year, and until we, as a society, acknowledge this and talk openly about it, medical professionals, family, friends and patients will remain ill-equipped when it comes to helping their loved ones.

Okay, so say there was no way for me to know that something was wrong and no way to stop the unthinkable from happening. There was still so much more that could have been done to prepare me for the unexpected. Reading materials. Discussions in the doctor's office. Posters. Articles. None of this was pushed on me. I'm sure I could have found the information if I had searched for it,  but why would I? The thought that I would not leave the hospital with my son at 38 weeks never crossed my overjoyed mommy mind. I might have scoffed or rolled my eyes at the mention of stillbirth before it happened to me, but I highly doubt it. I would have been intrigued, thirsty for knowledge; because that's what pregnant women do. They strive to prepare in every way for their newborns. We plan for the future in more ways than simply decorating a nursery or buying tiny clothes. We wonder what we would do if our baby was born with Down's Syndrome or any other conditions. We strive to think positively, while still entertaining the negative thoughts. You would be crazy to live in a world where you thought nothing bad could ever happen- to you. It's important to hope for the best, but plan for the worst.

In my opinion, medical professionals need more training in not only the health care aspects of stillbirth cases,  but the emotional support as well. More comprehensive protocols would be beneficial in easing the trauma and help to prepare those involved to make the short and long term decisions that face them during stillbirth events. Everyone seemed afraid to tell me what I needed to do. No one wanted to address the big elephant in the room. It shouldn't be that way. Nurses, therapists, and other health care professionals need more grief training and should be prepared to handle any such situation with grace and tact. With that said, my care was far from horrible, but I believe more could have been said and done to help us with our circumstances.

Phew.

Yes, I'm becoming THAT advocate. The one who only does something about a matter AFTER it has affected her life in some way. I only wish someone had done the same for me, and opened my eyes to the scary nightmare that became my reality. I guess I'm simply just hoping that by talking and writing about stillbirth that the ugly stigma will be erased and that someday, someone will benefit in some small way by acquiring knowledge on the topic. Knowledge that was freely and sincerely provided to them by a doctor, a friend, a family member, or a complete stranger.

  I challenge you to go to YouTube or Google and type that daunting word into the search box. Read a little. Cry a little. Learn a little. Help a little.

To get you started:
UCA

This is My Family.

Our little girl has started Kindergarten.

Most days I sit at home (while searching for a job) and think. I think about how I should be hearing a baby's coos instead of the ticking of the clock or the pecking of the keys on the keyboard. I think about upcoming events and how I will try to handle them or let them affect me. I think about ways to continue to honor my little boy's life. I think about all the normal everyday things too like cleaning, cooking, doctors appointments, and schedules (sometimes I actually do more than just think about cleaning, :) ).

I also worry. I worry that the quietness will overcome me. I worry that upcoming events and holidays will prove to be depressing...Wyatt was suppose to be a cute little puppy dog for Halloween. I worry about how my Lyla is fairing at school. I worry that she needs her momma to help her tie her shoes or carry her lunch tray. I worry about how other kids are treating her. I worry that I worry too much.

Sometimes I beat my anxiety to the punch and do something about it. For example, I was nervous that Lyla would be made fun of or scare off friends if she mentioned that she had a little brother...in Heaven. That thought was put into my mind on the day of the "Meet the Teacher" night after I saw the name "Wyatt" placed on one of the name tags in the room. Oh boy. So, I became the mother bear and proactively emailed her teacher. I explained our situation and that we encourage Lyla to talk about Wyatt and that he is indeed a part of our family. Her teacher was very sweet and understanding in the response and to this day has shown to be very attentive with Lyla's emotional needs. She also has a son whose name is Wyatt.  Maybe, she too, is a God send.

A poster was sent home with Lyla last week with instructions to complete it with the help of parents and send it back to school to display. The poster was entitled "All about Me." It requested her favorite color, food, games, and books. It inquired about her favorite activities, pets, and her family. She dictated, and I wrote. My chest tightened and tears stung my eyelids as she named the members of her family...leaving out our Wyatt. I didn't remind her, or try to correct her. This was HER project and I was simply the pencil. We finished the poster and sent it back to school. I was saddened. Saddened at the thought that she had already forgotten about her little brother...or maybe she was embarrassed.

I'm not sure what her thought process had been on that particular day, but just yesterday Lyla came home with an activity sheet. She had drawn four people and at the bottom of the paper was the sentence: "This is My Family."

A smile quickly spread across my face while the liquid escaped my eyes. She pointed to each character and explained who they were. Baby Wyatt was there...and that's who he'll always be, our baby Wyatt.

 

So, as I continue to wrestle with when to act on my insecurities and when to let them be, just know that this little girl will calm my fears and light my way. There is no denying that she is the best big sister any little angel baby could want.

A New Perspective

Sitting on the couch this morning drinking a cup of coffee, I received a text from one of my sisters-in-law. She encouraged me to check out a video on You Tube. I began crying before I even searched the video; that's just how broken my emotional flood gates are currently.

It was a video by a young woman who not only had a stillborn daughter, but was also diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer shortly after losing her daughter. It was a video about how although she had been tested time and time again by the devil, she still stood strong in her faith. She told her story from two perspectives: hers and God's. In the video, she proclaimed through her writing how God worked through her to touch his other children...and she was more than okay with that.

You wouldn't believe the amount of messages and emails that I have received from people claiming that Wyatt's story has changed their lives or hearts. I haven't given those claims enough credit because I have been too busy sulking in my own sorrows. I'm simply not there yet, but this woman in this video might just be my new role model.

Her words were perfect and heart warming. Her theories seemed on point and touched a place in my heart that has seemed to have gone dormant. As I sobbed listening to her words, I felt a tiny tinge of peace. Have I been angry at the wrong entity for taking my Wyatt? Have I been asking the wrong questions to the wrong being?

Now, I have NOT been miraculously healed by this lady's video, but she has opened my eyes just a little wider. I am not the picture perfect Christian, and I still have many insecurities about our circumstances, but I've said it once (or twice), and I'll say it again...I still believe. I am confident that if I continue to seek, I shall eventually find what I am looking for.  Stranger things have happened. I believe that I will be reunited with my angel baby one day, and oh boy, I can't wait! With that said, I will still be sad. I will constantly miss our son. I will always long for and want him. My chest will continue to feel pain in uncomfortable and familiar situations. There will always be something missing during my life here on earth, but I can't let it cripple me. I have too much love to share. I have too much passion to tame. And I have too many people who love me regardless of my insecurities, failures, setbacks, and grief-stricken soul.

Please take a few minutes out of your busy day to watch this video. You may disagree with her words and her beliefs, but you have to give her credit for her courage and her strength.

http://youtu.be/I8AshaJQTIk

This girl right here (me) is in awe of Sara's writing and outlook. So, maybe she was right about God using her writing to help his other children... even if I am just another pawn in this game of life--------I have been moved.

Born still is STILL born

Four long months have passed since our baby passed.

Here's a short glimpse into my scattered mind currently:

I no longer appear to have just had a baby. His room is painted and packed away. All baby items are gone or at least covered up in the closets. There is no talk or preparation for "when the baby comes home."

The baby item coupons and emails are now discarded without a second glance, and are often joined with a few tears. I no longer spend hours trying to plan out the future..it's one day at a time around here.

Our thoughts of our son are often clouded with sadness instead of excitement and happiness...Lyla still questions the reason behind watching Wyatt grow so big and strong in Mommy's tummy only to never see him, and to now be forced to visit her brother in a cemetery.

Jealousy still reigns when I see women expecting or new mommies, especially if it happens to be their second, third, or fourth child. How can so many people be lucky enough to have that many live babies?! I've never been the lucky type. And I meant to say "lucky" instead of "blessed." You see, I'm having an issue with the word "blessed" lately. What is it exactly that sets me apart from all you blessed people? What did I do differently than you? Why was I not "blessed" with another "blessing"?  I know that some of you are going to disagree, and say that I am blessed. Blessed with a wonderful husband, precious little girl, nice house, and good health. Right? Then I will simply ask you to put yourself in my shoes (try really hard, although I promise you there's no way you'll get there unless you have BEEN in my shoes) and then try to proclaim that you are blessed. You will quickly look around and realize that the word is often used superficially and frequently used with arrogant pride.

Others often try to include him in conversation (myself included), however, I'm most often left with even more sadness at my backfiring thoughts. Yes, I think it's pretty awesome that he has touched so many people and that others can feel his presence and try to include him in their daily lives...but wouldn't it be so much better if he were here? with me? with his family? Better for who? See, there I go being selfish again.

I try so hard to picture Heaven. I try to picture Wyatt there. I try to imagine him with relatives and loved ones who have gone before us. I want to see him being cared for and loved on and playing on the fluffy clouds. It's just not that easy. I hate thinking that he is alone and so little. I want to hold and take care of my boy. I gasp for air when I think of him crying for me and I can't help him...I can't save him...I couldn't save him.

He was a baby. Our baby.

He was not a horrible tragedy that happened to us or a pregnancy that was lost.

He was not an awful situation or a frightening statistic.

 He was a fully developed little boy with soft skin and silky hair.

He has a name...a beautiful name.

He has a mother and father and big sister and family that already loved him; loved him before they ever saw him.

The love I have in my heart for him and the pain I feel from missing him is enough evidence for me that he existed.

He was born.

Amazing Faith

I am human. God made me that way. He gave me the ability to feel all emotions, including anger, skepticism, and jealousy. How I choose to corral and show those emotions is up to me. From the day our son was taken from us I have had a difficult time professing my faith and"giving all my troubles to Him." I am mad. I am sad. And although I know I will NEVER understand, I keep searching for answers. My soul feels damaged and I feel certain that I am being punished. Me. Me. Me.


I still believe. What helps me to carry on in search of peace and hope amidst the shadows?

I've said it before-- but this wasn't about me. Wyatt has touched the lives and hearts of so many people. People of all ages, races, religions, and ways of life. I'm not just spouting off at the mouth to make myself feel better about this idea. I have been shown time and time again from relatives, friends, or fellow bereaved parents that Wyatt has changed hearts and minds of people...some complete strangers. This week I was shown an unwavering faith by a young girl appropriately named-- Faith. I don't know Faith well, in fact, she wasn't even sure if I remembered who she was (of course I did!). However, she is quickly becoming one of my favorite little people.

With her mother's permission I would like to share an email from this sweet girl that not only brought tears to my eyes, but a big, giant smile to my face:

Dear Miss Krystal,

hi, im faith~dawn's daghter. i am 9 years old, (about to turn ten in sep., i was exited to hear lyla and me were born in the same month!) and i read your blog, along with my mom. my mom told you about her 2 miscarriges, and i know my brother and sister are playing with your sweet baby wyatt right now. i know they love him lots. i know your email must be full, but i have wanted to email you so badly. your blog is amazing in ways i can not explain. your family is in my prayers everyday, and they continue.

i remember a sunday morning, when my family was sitting in the balcony, and i looked at you and lyla smile. that memory comes back to me constanly. your bright blue eyes send happieness through my heart.

i have recently read the "am i still a big sister?" post, and it is amazing your words are in the perfect place in every sentence. lyla has a beautiful face and i truly adore her. she is a golden child.

my mom has told me about the butterflies when i was toddler. the day i read your post about the butterflies i went outside with maria and a butterfly almost landed on my shirt. i went inside with joy, shouting, "wyatt almost touched me!" then one day i went to carowinds with my best friend for my first time. that day was special, and i thought of you and your husband constantly. when we were going back to the car to eat lunch, i found one shiny present, a penny. a perfect penny. i put in my pocket and told my friend about wyatt, and im sure i will tell her more, he is just to perfect to stop. then when we went to ride the rapids, and butterfly landed next to my shoe, i bent down and looked at it, just spelling the name wyatt in my mind. 4 days ago, i was outside helping my dad and a butterfly landed a 3 feet in front of me. i moved to it and it almost touched my foot. i noticed it was blue on the end, the color of your eyes.

i love your blog. its like you are talking to me. my penny jar grows and grows. i will send you a picture. there is a poem that i wrote that you will see on the jar. its not as good as yours though... anyway wyatt is awlways in your arms miss krystal, always. you have 2 children. maybe not in your home, but always in your heart. i am going to read your blog today, i promise. thank you for reading and sorry its so long. oh and my first boy i ever have will be named wyatt.:) i love him. i cant wait to read your next post. thank you.


faith victoria

 

WOW.  Right?!

 

If that precious email doesn't give you hope for the future, I'm not sure anything will. This little lady's testament helps me to believe that our Wyatt's life wasn't in vain and that even though it has come at great expense (our expense), good things are happening because he existed.

 

Faith has shown tremendous faith. At the young age of 9 (almost 10 ;) ) she is able to not only understand the scale of such a situation, but to strive to do something about her feelings...not to mention the fantastic writing ability that's behind those keystrokes!

 

I replied with this:

 

Dear Faith-

 

Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to email me with your sweet thoughts. You are so very sweet to keep us in your prayers and to think of our family often. You are one special little girl yourself, you know. :) I, too, remember seeing you in church and can remember that you always had a beautiful smile on your face. I admire your ability to understand the magnitude of our loss and to feel the need to make contact with me. It takes a lot of courage and kindness to write the things you have and to think the thoughts you have. Your compliments are too very sweet and you made my day a whole lot brighter by reading your email. :) You are an amazing writer at the young age of 9 (almost 10) and I believe you will become even more amazing with time. I hope that you have a great start to the new school year and keep that fabulous attitude that you have shown through this email. You have a very kind soul. Much love to you, sweet girl.

 

Krystal

 

 

And the last response that I would like to share from this amazing child of God:

 

 

Dear Miss Krystal,

Thank you for emailing me back, I greatly appreciate it. I keep reading your blog, and it's amazing. You are such an amazing writer, I want to be an amazing writer just like you when im older. I talk to your Wyatt in my prayers. He has touched so many people in this world, your son as changed so many lives, your son is a blessing to you, and so many other people. I am going to make a picture of Wyatt's name and an airplane. It will be next to my bed. My mom said that it was so sweet that you would want to include me in your blog, and she says yes,its okay if you use my email. She will call you soon. I will send you a picture of our penny jar, and heres a little poem I wrote all by myself! :

Dear Wyatt,
your home is in our hearts,
you and me, we'll never
part. your still living, sweet as can be,
just not down here, not with me.
your mommy and daddy need a smile,
go stop and visit them, and stay for a while.

There's the poem. It's not as good as you but i tried! Anyways tell Mr. Waylon that I pray for you and him, and tell Lyla she is ADORABLE!! And Miss Krystal, your such an amazing person. I hope you are having a good day, and I will pray for you and your family. Thank you for reading, and my mom will contact you.

 

 

 

Faith- I want to thank you again for all of your sweet comments as well as the bravery you have shown by reaching out to me. Your writing is awesome, and your poem is perfect. Keep up the good work...I have a feeling you will be rewarded for your kindness and love for others.

 

 

I simply HAD to share this with the world. If someone as young as Faith can see clearly in troubled waters, then what's stopping the rest of us? Although, I am FAR from healed, I am pleased to say that every little smile helps, and Faith provided me with a whole bunch of 'em! :)

 

Faith has shown me how amazing faith truly is.