Dear Sweet Little Liam

Dear sweet little Liam,

My little lamb,

You had us all fooled. 

You always had a million watt smile on your face that covered up that fact that you were actually a sick little boy. This last year you seemed to be doing so well without hospital admittances that we became blind. The feeding tube and feeding problems weren't new to us so we didn't question it when you couldn't tolerate your feed that night. You had chronic lung disease, asthma and sleep apnea so we didn't question it if you required oxygen for a day or two. You had so many qwercks that we were so used to that we didn't think anything of them. To us you were just our little boy. 

You were so brave and you never complained. 

I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what happened. How could you be gone? How can I live without you? How could you be smiling and laughing and running around one day and the next be gone? 

My heart hurts so much. It's like I got stabbed. Then it's like it got mended only to have the stitched tear and the wound open up all over again. There's so much emotion that I can't even process. I cried so much those first few days that's I feel like my tear ducts are dried out. The emotion stays and threats to over take me. I know my brain is trying its best to protect me from further hurt. I think about you constantly. I still cry. I dream about you at night when I get to sleep. I wish I could hold you and kiss you and tell how much I love you. 

I know your in heaven and for the first time, your healthy. Your running around without coughing. You don't need a feeding tube anymore. Your perfect. I always thought you were perfect though. My little boy. 

Tears I've been holding in, trying to be strong for everyone else just over came me. You were the reason I was string sweet boy. I had to be for you. I don't know how to do anything anymore but take care of you. That's all I did your entire life. I don't even know who I am anymore. 

I feel so lost and without a purpose now. I don't know what to do. 

I have to start  making phone calls tomorrow to inform specialist doctors of your passing and cancel any upcoming appointments. I have to call home care and have them come pick up your equipment. I have to donate all your medical supplies and formula so they can help other families out. I have to go through your things and decide what's important to keep and what's not. Problem is, looking around, everything is important. I want it all. I want you. 

We still have to bring you home. Your ashes aren't ready for us yet. They don't know why state gave them such a problem or why they had to wait for the permit so long but it finally went through and we should get to pick you up Monday or Tuesday. It's going to be so hard. Make it even more real. 

But I don't want it to be real. I still expect you to come running through the house. I can still hear your foot steps. I can still hear your laugh. I can still hear the beeping of your machines. 

The worst part of PTSD is reliving this over and over again. It's so real. I thought reliving your birth and NICU was horrible but that has nothing on reliving your death. Watching them do CPR. Watching them do everything they could for you, then seeing the doctor announce time of death with tears in his eyes. Seeing everyone in and outside the room start crying for you. Me telling you to come back over and over again, but you never did. 

I keep blaming myself. Thinking there had to of been some way I could have saved you. But there wasn't. I did everything in my power for you. That's what hurts even more. Not being able to save you. 

When I was praying and asking God to heal you, this wasn't what I imagined. Though you are healed now precious boy. And you have eternal life in heaven. I will see you again sweet boy, whe God says it's time. Forever you will be in my heart. 

Love you little lamb. 

-mommy