Letting Go - Attempted

Over the past four days a lot has been on my mind and each morning, before I can even form a complete thought I begin to cry.  I'm constantly reminded that I'm living my life without Elijah and the terrifying phone call from my mother keeps replaying in my mind.  "Eli's not breathing." It's so vivid, so real, so loud and in my face.  I can't escape it.  Those words and seeing Elijah in the ambulance are on replay.  They are imprisoning me and I don't know how to get out.  This morning was different.  I was still reminded of my reality but I woke up feeling numb.  No tears. No expression. I was exhausted and empty.

I knew today was going to seem impossible to get through but at the same time I thought that having everything scheduled out made it easy for me to just show up and go through the motions.  Get up, get ready, head to the church, go to the cemetery, go back to the church for a reception and then return to the house and hide in my room under the covers in hopes that no one would be able to find me.  Of course, you realize all but one of these happened today.

Upon arriving at the church the hugs immediately started.  I could not stand to receive one more hug, see one more sad face or hear someone else say "I'm so sorry".  I realize people have no idea what to say in a situation like this but for me the "I'm so sorry" is just about equal to "I know how you feel".  You don't know so sorry until it's your baby.  I know that doesn't make sense and I can't explain it but it's how I felt.  A friend told me that she did not send us a card but wanted to tell me that she cared and was there for me.  When her father passed away the greeting cards that were designed to bring comfort and peace instead brought anger and sadness.  From that day on she vowed to never send another greeting card to express condolences.  Likewise, I will never tell someone "I'm so sorry."

The numbness wore off when I saw the Emerald Hills staff come through the doors of the church rolling Elijah's closed casket.  It was time to begin the service dedicated to him and his memory. Not crying this morning had immediately caught up to me - I could not see through the tears that overwhelmed my eyes.  I felt weak was unsure if I'd be able to walk to my seat in the chapel.  Joey and his father were the designated pallbearers but I stepped in right behind Joey and placed my left hand on Eli's casket and it remained there until we had walked him to the center of the chapel.

I heard the chapel was full of friends and family but did not notice myself.  I was only aware of the tiny white casket placed all alone in the center of the chapel.  The casket that held my sweet Elijah.  The casket that would never be opened again.  The casket that held my heart.  I could not take my eyes off of it.

We walked out of the chapel the same way we walked in, with Elijah by our side.  Once we got out of the chapel, the staff of Emerald Hills took over and guided Elijah to the hearse.  We watched them safely slide the casket into the back of the car and secure it.  It was such a big car for such a small little baby.  I wanted to crawl in and sit beside him.  The thought of him riding alone in the back of an unfamiliar car, inside an unfamiliar box, made me sick to my stomach.

As we pulled into the cemetery I saw the green canopy the staff had set up and closed my eyes in hesitation.  This was the final step in this process and I was not ready to let go.  In no way could I say good bye to my sweet, precious, tiny baby boy.  Joey helped me out of the car and asked my dad to stand in for him as a pallbearer, which he gladly accepted.  Each step I took was like a stab in the heart - I was one step closer to where my little baby would be placed in the ground and covered with dirt.  I was mad that this was what I was doing - that this is what I had to be doing.

Elijah had a favorite blanket and I had been holding it close to my chest all morning.  I hugged it through the service at the church, in the car on the way to the cemetery and as I walked toward the seats set up under the canopy placed next to Elijah's grave.  I placed the blanket on top of the casket and stayed there for a minute, hugging the casket and talking to Eli.  When I sat back in my chair the graveside memorial began and was completed rather quickly.  The line of people wanting to hug us immediately grew and Joey and I decided we were going to group hug everyone so that we each got one arm instead of a full on embrace.  We were not very successful with this.

Lezlie handed Joey and I each a yellow rose from one of the flower arrangements that was sent to the funeral home and one at a time we tossed them down to our son.  Looking down into the hole in the ground that would soon swallow our sweet, Elijah was heartbreaking.  I fell to my knees and all I wanted to do was get inside and lay down with him.  That was it - the last look.  I wanted to stay until the crew dumped the first load of dirt.  Lezlie handed us a bag with all of the items we left at the funeral home.  Including the book "Oh, The Places You Will Go" which was supposed to be in the casket with him.  She immediately worked to make it right and they placed the book in with him.

I felt extremely blessed when we got to the church for the reception.  My whole LivingSocial team was there to show their support along with a few co-workers from Austin that drove in.  It meant more to me than they will ever know.  Back at our house I had no chance to hide under the covers.  It was a nice day and Taggart wanted to play outside.  Joey's brothers, mother and father were out in the front yard and my presence was requested.  Shortly thereafter my parents and aunts arrived and our front yard turned into a camp grounds.  It was nice to be surrounded by loved ones but all I could think about was how much I wanted to hold Elijah and how unfair this all was.  Since holding him was not a possibility, I did the closest thing - I held his blanket...and cried all night long because of how unfulfilling it was.

Holding Elijah

We walked in to the funeral home and Lezlie was at the front door waiting for us.  I handed her three pairs of socks for Elijah and two knit hats to cover  his tiny head.  Why so many options?  Eli rarely wore socks because he just kicked them off and he really had no need for them as he was always wrapped up nice and snug in my arms.  A sweet lady that knows a couple of my friends offered to knit a few hats for Elijah...i believe she completed 8.  I picked my favorite but brought a back-up just in case the one I wanted him to wear didn't fit his head.  Lezlie explained that she was going to go put the items on Elijah and swaddle him in a blanket we provided the day before.  She led us to the chapel and told us we could wait for her in there.

My prayer over the past couple days was for me to understand, know and accept that when I saw Elijah, I was only looking at his body, a shell, not my precious little boy.  I took a deep breath in preparation to enter the chapel, hold my baby and stand by his casket while friends and family came to support me and my family and say goodbye to our sweet Elijah.  My feet were glued to the ground at the entrance of the chapel until Lezlie said that Eli was not in the room but she was going to go get him and bring his to us so that we could have our last private moments with him before lying him down for the last time.  Joey and I walked down the aisle arm in arm, both crying.  There were pictures of Elijah at the front of the chapel, including one of only three family pictures we have with the little guy and a poster sized close up of Elijah smiling with clearly visible drool bubbles in his mouth and a reflection of me in his eyes.  I longed to be able to see myself in his eyes again and to get the loving reaction he would offer each time he saw my face or heard my voice.

The front was filled with flowers and their fragrance was powerful, yet pleasant.  Looking through all the cards warmed my heart.  I saw names of people that I didn't know, people I hadn't been in contact with since high school or college, and my family.  As I stood up there I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and what felt like my throat.  The pace of my breathing increased and it suddenly felt like it was 90 degrees in the chapel so I opted to take a seat.

Moments later Lezlie walked through the door of the chapel with a familiar baby blue and chocolate brown swaddle blanket in her arms.  As she walked closer I could see Elijah's hat covered head, face and tiny hands.  Previously I had told her that I wanted to hold Elijah and she asked if I still wanted to.  Absolutely! I had not held my baby since about 10am on Friday and this would be the last chance on this Earth for me to feel him in my arms.  Lezlie placed Elijah in my arms and the feeling I felt I still can't describe.  It was a complex stew of emotions with an intense love and deep sadness battling for the first spot on the ingredients list.  That stew was served with a side of answered prayers.  This was not my baby, it was his body.  A vessel that housed a perfect, loving, happy soul, but I was not holding my baby. I held Elijah for about 20 minutes and in that time I touched each part of his body one last time, I kissed his perfect head, held is tiny hands, squeezed his socked feet, rubbed his typically full belly and patted his strong back.  It was already past 5pm and people were gathering in the hall waiting to be let in so I pulled my baby close in to my chest and rocked him one last time.

I wanted to place him in his casket - it needed to be his mommy that laid him to rest one last time and I needed to be sure that he was positioned comfortably.  The walk from my seat to the casket seemed like a long, dark tunnel and with each step I took I wanted to turn around and run away.  I wanted to escape having to let Elijah go.  I wanted to run away fast enough that I caught Friday morning and I kept the boys with me instead of dropping them off at my mother's house.  I kissed my sweet son, told him I loved him, I missed him and that I would be right over in the corner looking over him.  I placed his lifeless little body in the white and blue casket we selected and made sure he looked comfortable.  Having laid him down, I could not step back from his side.  I couldn't leave him.

Joey and I both walked back down the aisle toward the doors of the chapel and opened them to allow the guests to enter.  After propping open the doors we turned to walk back to the from of the chapel to be by our son's side and noticed the video slideshow had begun to play.  Smiles, tears, laughter and more tears consumed me while watching it.  I can not express how thankful I am to my dear friend, Lauren Coffey and her husband, Ryan, for putting this together.  We will cherish this for the rest of our lives.  You were able to turn a home video that under normal circumstances may have been deleted because of it's insignificance into a treasure.

Elijah Thomas Colopy - Remembered from Michelle Colopy on Vimeo.

The night ended with a candlelight vigil in memory of Elijah.  We were opened in prayer by our city group leader followed by Joey's father, and were closed out by Marsha Pritchard as she started singing "Jesus Loves Me."

I was exhausted and thankful that the viewing was over and that there were no more people around wanting to hug me.  But if this day was over that meant I was quickly approaching what would be the second worst day of my life.

Decision Central

When I opened my eyes this morning Elijah had died all over again.  It was real.  He was gone.  I didn't want to get up and start the day without him.  It seemed impossible to function without my precious son.  How was I going to get up, put my big girl panties on and face this day?  With the help of great friends, family and cabbage leaves I managed to somehow put one foot in front of the other.

I knew Joey and I had to plan Elijah's funeral but I had no idea where to start and honestly, I didn't want to.  Previously, I had been very fortunate in my life to have not had to deal with making decisions after a death.  I'd only been to three funerals in my life (a friend's father, my grandmother and a friend's brother) none of which required and decision making on my part other than to show up to express my love, support and sorrow for the family and life that was lost.  I wished the situation was the same but it was far from it.

We couldn't stand to sleep at our house without our baby so we camped out on Lauren and Eric's living room floor, snuggled close to Taggart, without sleeping a wink.  The morning came too quickly and I broke down at the thought of facing what was before me.  Pumping and deciding where we would lay Elijah to rest.

Pumping was incredibly difficult.  A vicious reminder that I no longer had a baby to nurse, I was no longer needed for nourishment or comfort for Elijah.  Each time I hooked myself up to that damn machine it didn't feel like I was draining my breasts - it felt like I was draining my heart, my soul, my complete existence.  "This is for him, it was supposed to be for him."  was all I could manage to say through my tears and heartache.  It seemed as though it was just as hard on Joey.  Each time he was right beside me, holding me, crying with me and when I was finished he took everything away so that I did not have to be the one to pour out the milk or clean the pump parts.  He has no idea how much this gesture meant to me.  I should tell him.

Decision Central was now set up and in full swing.  Lauren and Laura were side-by-side at the kitchen table searching for funeral homes and cemeteries in the area, calling to check availability and taking notes on cost and other details I did not pay a bit of attention to.  I pulled a typical girl move and picked the team with the best jersey - which cemetery was the prettiest?  which one has trees?  which one is the best-kept?  Emerald Hills.  Check.  I was glad this part was over but was dreading walking into the funeral home.  It was only a matter of time before I had to start making hard decisions.  Decisions that if I passed on to someone else I might regret.

The worst part, well, I can't even say the "worst part" because there is no ranking system advanced enough to determine which part of burring your child is worse - it all sucks. Bad. When I was asked about the obituary I didn't respond, I couldn't.  Not because I didn't know what to say but because I literally could not bring myself to say anything that would be put in writing for Elijah's obituary.  It was like if I resisted long enough I might wake up from this nightmare before I accepted it as reality.  I finally spoke when I was asked if I wanted to add anything personal. I admit, my tone was not pleasant and my anger was misguided but I managed to bark out, through a river of tears and sniffing, "Nothing I say would do him justice.  He was an amazingly perfect baby." Unanimously, everyone in the room agreed that needed to be included.

Walking the grounds of the cemetery to decide which plot was worthy of Elijah was impossible.  All I wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs.  Why am I having to do this? How do you choose? As if that isn't enough, how do you decide if you get one or four spaces?  I refused to think about anything other than getting four spots in a row - I wanted Eli to know that we planned to join him one day.  I did not want him to be alone.  A gust of wind blew through the cemetery and the wind chimes sang and danced beautifully as Joey suggested that we think about getting only a place for Elijah.  My heart shattered - well, the shattered pieces of my heart shattered.  I went back to thinking about how he would be all alone and would think that we were just going to leave him there without intentions of a return.  The chimes sang again as if God had commanded them to tell me that Elijah was not alone and he already knows the day that we will be reunited. For the first time I thought about what it meant to get four plots.  Three more people had to die.  Me, one.  Joey, two.  Taggart, IMPOSSIBLE.  I was not even going to go there.  If we purchased a plot for him now were we jinxing him?  Would that mean he would not marry, grow old and pick out his own resting place?  What if our family grows?  One spot, right here between these trees and to the right hand of Jesus it is, Mr. Cemetery Real Estate Salesman.

After we finished at Emerald Hills we headed to the church to iron out details there.  It was either surprisingly easy to get everything planned or I was so overwhelmed that I zoned out and let others talk and make decisions for me.  Either way, we walked out with the memorial service being scheduled for 10am on Wednesday, 10/24/12 at Saint Vincent DePaul Catholic church.  Now, time to head to the house and somehow pick the perfect scriptures and songs for Elijah's memorial service along with the clothes he will wear and the items that will forever be placed with him.

Is this real life?

Today I woke up lying on my right side with Elijah, my 3 month and 25 day old baby boy, lying beside me, awake and smiling - ready to start his day. Our morning routine was different right away.  Normally when Elijah and I wake up, Joey, my husband, is in the middle of getting ready to head to his chiropractic clinic and Taggart, our 2 year old son, is just waking up. However, Eli wanted to get an early start so Joey and I had some "play time" with our newest bundle of joy.  This morning was the last morning we would start our day with sweet Elijah.

Vacation in Kill Devil Hills, NC - Aug. 2012

Joey went off to the office and I got ready.  Honestly, I just put on a hat.  I had nothing but errands planned today and a flight booked to New Orleans for a friends bachelorette party in the evening.  I still needed to pack but I wanted to do that after my errands and while the boys were with their Nana, my mom.  So, I rushed to get out of the house.

In my rush, Taggart looked at me and said "I hold him. I hold him." I smiled and told Taggart to get on the couch and he could hold his baby brother.  He got up there faster than he ever had! Once Elijah was in his brothers lap Taggart gave him a kiss on the head and said, "I love him." My heart melted and I knew I needed a picture of this precious moment.  My phone was in the other room and I wasn't about to trust a two year old with a baby and I knew if I picked Eli up I'd never recreate the moment so I just stood there and soaked in the sight. Taggart, so proud to be a big brother and Elijah, so comfortable and happy in his brothers arms.

Taggart loving on Elijah

Back to my agenda - hurry, hurry, hurry. I fixed Taggart breakfast and he sat and ate it with me on the couch while I nursed Elijah.  Taggart finished in record time and Elijah, as usual, was in no rush - eating then stopping for a second to flash me a sweet smile.  It was the cutest thing you've ever seen.  Especially when he forgot he had milk in his mouth - a mess I was honored to clean up. Taggart was getting antsy so I decided Eli was finished nursing and for the very last time, pulled him away from my breast, burped him (it was rather impressive.  I laughed and said "Good job, buddy!") and secured him in his car seat.  Off to Nana's we go.

Best view in the world

It was an in-and-out drop off that day.  Taggart's attention was on helping Nana change Elijah's diaper so I slipped out the door.  Without kissing either of my boys goodbye.  NOLA was on my mind - I needed to get a present, a couple shirts and a pair of black heels and I'd be ready to pack.  As I was walking into Target I got a text from my best friend, Holly, she had scheduled an emergency doctors appointment because she was bleeding - a scary thing when you're pregnant.  I sent up immediate prayers for the safety and health of her baby but didn't think to pray the same thing for mine.  Target was a success and DSW was my next stop.  After looking at every pair of black heels I made my decision and purchased my black heels at 12:22pm (the time Elijah was born on 6.25.12). Errands completed now what's for lunch?

Joey was home for the day so I asked him to meet me at Fuzzy's for lunch and a margarita - I was ready to get my weekend started.  After we had finished eating we started working on Joey's new web site for the practice.  Joey asks, "When do you want to go get the boys?" At that point I decided I could pack with them at the house since Joey was home and replied, "whenever you want to."  We kept working.

At 1:54pm, still at Fuzzy's, my phone rang.  Mom.  As soon as I answered my entire world changed.  My mom was crying, screaming, "Get over here, Eli's not breathing!" I cried "Call 911!" hung up, told Joey what my mom had said and we bolted to his car. I called 911, it was the only thing I could do to help.  I wasn't there - I should have been there.  The operator assured me that an ambulance was already on the way.  We prayed, we begged, we cried.  "It's been too long" was all I could say...and I was right.  When we arrived at my moms we were met by police officers and paramedics and were forbidden to enter the house because it was a crime scene.  We were told that Elijah wasn't in the house anyway and when we asked where he was (hoping desperately that they would say they revived him and he was on the way to the hospital for recovery) we told he was no longer with us.  Weak, I fell to my knees.

What?  No longer with us?  Impossible! How does your baby just die? This can't be real. What the hell?  How did this happen?  My sweet baby, my poor sweet baby. I failed Elijah.  I failed as a mother. Nothing made sense and we received no answers other than he was taking a nap and when my mom went to check on him she found him lifeless. Lifeless? How does a little baby, the happiest, healthiest, strongest baby I've ever seen, just not wake up?  His arms were so strong that he could push himself up so that his chest was all the way off the ground.  He held his head up so well, so steady.  Why didn't he push up?  Why didn't he cry?  Why is my baby dead?  Could we have prevented this?

Enjoying some tummy time

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what was about to happen.  The officer opened the ambulance door and there was my sweet Elijah.  Beautiful.  Sleeping.  Lifeless.  Cold.  Gone.  He looked just like he always did, just in an unfamiliar place, on a stretcher that swallowed him up because it is meant for adults - not tiny babies.  I absolutely expected him to open his wide, sparkling eyes and smile at me the way he always did.  He didn't.  In shock I sat beside my baby, kissed his head and held his tiny, cold hand, praying to God to allow Elijah to squeeze my finger.  To bring him back.  Leaving Elijah alone in that ambulance was not something I wanted to do.  Not something I could do. Not something I thought I'd ever have to do.  With the help of my dad I did it.

I needed strength and from where I was standing, trying to stand, I was alone.  I called the strongest person I've ever known, Holly.  Yes, the same Holly that had a doctors appointment scheduled to see if her baby was OK.  When we connected I told her that Elijah was gone.  Elijah was dead.  My role model, my best friend, the person I needed to be strong and tell me everything was ok, was speechless and had as much disbelief and sadness as I did.  Her heart broke for me, for Eli, for herself, for her precious angel baby, Adyn.  Unbelievable. Gut-wrenching.  Unfair.  Shitty.

Joey and I tried to go home but it was too much.  Way too much.  Elijah didn't have a lot of stuff - he was new and didn't have time to collect stuff or pick things to be his favorite.  But he was everywhere in our home.  Especially our room where he slept next to me every night for 3 months and 25 days.  I laid down in bed the same way I woke up this morning, on my right side, but my position was the only thing that was the same.  Everything else was different and always would be.  It was wrong.  Elijah was supposed to be there but he wasn't, and he never would be again.  His blanket was empty.  My arms were empty.  My heart was empty.

Elijah Thomas Colopy

6.25.12 - 10.19.12