Forever Carrying Camden

I am angry.  Very, very angry. I don't recall ever being this angry in my life. And for once, this anger is a good thing. It means that I'm feeling something besides sadness.  It means that I am one step closer to acceptance. I have struggled with accepting my loss. On the day it happened, I kept yelling, whispering, screaming, shouting "It's not real. It's not. It's not."  Later that same day, when I was being told when to expect his body be released so we could begin making final arrangements, I looked the man straight in the eye and said "My baby is not dead."  When they arrived with the hearse, I told them they had to leave, that they were confused, that they weren't there for my child. The last three weeks have been the same.  Before he passed, I had only left my child alone, out of my sight, twice.  Once with his grandparents and the other with his godparents.  Thus, even though it is highly unusual for him to not be by my side or in ...

My handsome baby, I have promised to tell the truth in this blog, no matter how painful and un-pretty it may be.  I know that you know the things I've been battling, but this blog isn't for you or I.  It is for others who may need some help along the way, though I pray that no one else ever has to endure this pain. The idea to begin this blog began as a "homework" assignment from my counselor, who I was linked with through my church.  We had never before spoken until the day that I lost my son. The first time we met, I was laying on the ground, rocking in the fetal position.  All I kept saying was "It's not real, not my baby. It's not real, not my baby."  I didn't even know what she looked like for nearly a week after because I couldn't bring myself to look her, or anyone else, in the eye.  I stared blankly into space or looked down at the ground.  But she has been there for me every step of the way.  In our sessions that followed, sh...

My darling, dear, sweet handsome baby, Exactly one year ago today, I found out I was carrying you. I took the two tests to confirm it, but I could already sense you were there. Baby boy, there's some things I need for you to understand.  You were never, ever not wanted.  Sweet baby, from the moment I saw those double pink lines, I began living for you. Even when the situation became far from what I had always envisioned, I lived for you. When I became a single mother, that was even more true. I never doubted the choice I made; for me, there was no choice. There was only you.  When I realized I would be doing this parenting thing alone, rather than grow angry, bitter, or frustrated, I was thrilled.  That meant I could have you all to myself. And for those 99 days, I did.  You were, and still are, my baby.  No one else's. The last 365 days have been a mess of emotions.  It began with tears of joy, when I read the positive pregnancy test and sent the t...

Before I knew I was pregnant, I knew. In June of 2014, I packed my bags and headed to a three-day conference for teachers in another part of the state. While there, I went to dinner with my co-workers at a steak restaurant.  That night, I had my last drink. It had been barely a few weeks since my son was conceived.  I hadn't even taken a test  or missed a period at that point, but I was hopeful. Two weeks later, my best friend showed up at my apartment with a box of EPT.  Aside from the birth of my son and the fourteen weeks and one day that followed, that was the happiest time of my life. The next ten months were difficult, to say the least.  From the beginning, Camden was a handful. From July to October, I lived with my head in the toilet.  I even threw up in the bathroom of a local restaurant once, while my student waited for our lunch order to be delivered.  We had spent the morning presenting projects at the local Farmer's Market, and a...