Houston Bound

As some of you may or may not know, Trey died one day before we were scheduled to move across the country from our home in Sugar Land, Texas to Newtown, Connecticut. He also happened to lose his life in my mom's home. We wanted to spend a night of quality time with her before our big move. The three of us were scheduled to get on the plane on October 15th. He passed away on the morning of the 14th. 

There are certain things that I will never forget about that morning I found my son limp, blue, and losing his life.  One of which is the sound of my voice (my screams). They were guttural, primal, scary. I remember pounding the stone flooring of my mom's downstairs with an open palm, gritted teeth, saying "No" more times than I believe a person has ever uttered the words consecutively. I felt like God had fallen asleep and if just maybe I pounded that ground hard enough, he'd "wake up" and save my son. All the while, the EMT were doing all they could.  I was the first one "cleared" to ride in the ambulance to Texas Children's Hospital. I so vividly remember my grandparents pulling up behind the ambulance (just trying to meet Trey from Dallas for the first time before we were to move). I'll never forget, screaming, "The baby is dead" to my grandfather as I frantically got into the ambulance. Deep down, I knew.  I remember pleading with God the entire ambulance ride. I repeated, "I'll do anything..." over and over and over again. 

I'll never forget the tear filled eyes of the doctor as she lowered her body to meet mine. "I'm so sorry, we did all we could." 

I'll never forget the chaplain and the social worker gripping both of my hands. I was alone except for the care of these two virtual strangers when they "called it". I will always love them for holding a stranger in such a space of reverence and respect. 

I'll never forget gripping my husband harder than I have ever gripped another being once reunited. We held onto each other for dear life. We didn't even exchange words. We just held on...

I'll never forget having to walk past the waiting room to leave the hospital without Trey. I was furiously jealous of every broken arm and high fever. Their babies were here. They had arms to fix and fevers to break. My baby would never know mundane inconveniences or broken bones.  Those lucky bastards, I thought. I hated everyone in that waiting room. How were they allowed to wait for their names to be called while Chris and I are walking out of that hospital empty handed?

I'll never forget the promise Chris and I made to each other outside the hospital that day. That we would get through this together. And neither of us were allowed to take the easy way out. And how i desperately wanted to... but  couldn't. I couldn't let my mother endure what I was enduring. Chris needed me, and I him. We were stuck.  

I'll never forget peeling back the starched, stiff white linens of the hotel bed that night.  Settling in for the longest night of my life where the space between Chris and I in that bed felt miles apart. His absence was deafening. 

I'll never forget waking up the next morning to what can only be described as a "sucker punch to the soul". I didn't dream it. 

I'll never forget my mother bathing me when I could not move. She brought the most elegant nightgown I'd ever seen. I don't know how she had the wherewithal to bathe and dress me. In that moment, I was a child and I needed my mother.  

I'll never forget waking up in that same hotel, a day or two later to be surrounded, literally, by my family around my bed.  They knelt, and crawled close, and cried with me. They held me together when I could not. 

I'll never forget planning Trey's memorial service. I was happy and relieved to still have business to handle on behalf of my son. Still feeling like I had a purpose as his mother. To honor and celebrate him in the best way I could.  

I'll never forget being surrounded by more people than I had ever imagined cared for Chris and I. It was truly humbling to bear witness to love that we'd been blind to.  

I'll never forget getting on that flight for Connecticut missing the best part of our family. It felt cruel and surreal. There was a gnawing feeling that we had left him behind.  We were supposed to start our great adventure as a family but instead, it was just us. Broken and battered beyond recognition.  I'll never forget hugging my father when we finally got back inside his Connecticut home. And going straight back for one more.  I needed my dad.  I needed my stepmom. I needed to be handled with kid gloves. 

This was a year and a half ago. Today is the (early) morning where we will be returning to Houston for the first time since Trey died.  With Flynn. This is all so beautiful, bizarre, and strange to remember all the things I wish I could forget while holding on to every memory I never want to lose. Wish us luck. Wish us strength. Wish us healing...