At this time 3 weeks ago, I sat in a hospital bed telling Bentley how much Blake and I loved him. I sat staring at our son with tears in my eyes. He was beautiful. He was the most precious baby boy ever. He was 6lbs 19 inches. I know I talked about him a lot, but I want people to know. I want people to realize how important he really is. I will NEVER get tired of talking about Bentley. Bentley has changed so much of our lives...
Blake and I went to run a few errands today, and I was really excited I found the decorative fence piece that I wanted for his grave. We bought a Christmas ornament to get personalized for him, and we picked out a few others things to decorate his grave. We also began to plan our Christmas memorial service for our family to remember Bentley this holiday. Urgh, I miss him so much. We were at Walmart today, and I left Blake for a moment in the animal section while I slowly browsed over to the baby department. I had got a glimpse of baby boy Christmas outfits...tears slightly filled my eyes because it brought me back to our planning for our 1st family photo this holiday. I browsed through their selection, and Blake and I discussed how handsome Bentley would look in these outfits...just seems so unreal to talk about Bentley (our first born son) in the past tense. It just doesn't seem fair...
Now, this part of the blog today may sound slightly negative, angry, hostile, upset, confused....I thought about my pregnancy. Here is alittle time frame, things I never realized while I was pregnant...
Blake and I went to my 20 week appointment, and it is when we found out that we were having a baby boy, and we decided that day his name would be Bentley Charles Nalley. The doctor had advised us that he had seen some "bright spots" in his bowel which he called echogenic bowel. He said he wasn't worried about it, but of course, I went home to google and read everything about echogenic bowel. It simply meant there were indicators that sometimes would appear if a child had a chromosomal disorder. The doctors advised that they would like to recheck it in 8 weeks. So, at week 28 we followed up, and the Dr. informed us that he still saw some bright spots in the sonogram, but he wasn't worried about it. I believed him...He wasn't worried, then I wouldn't worry. Of course, I did do some research, but the doctor informed me that Bentley had no other abnormal signs to make him believe anything was wrong. But, should they have done more research and more sonograms throughout the rest of my pregnancy? Next thing, at my 28 week appointment they did my glucose test--which I failed...and I failed it badly. They sent me to diabetic counseling and I began to have to monitor my sugar levels one hour before and after eating. So, I began watching my diet and monitoring my sugars...NEVER had high sugar. I went to the appointments and the the diabetes doctor released me because she said it must have been a flook to why it showed up or something because I NEVER had a high blood sugar. It didn't make any sense....well, the doctors assured me that even though my sugars weren't high, they were going to treat me like a Gestinal Diabetes patient..typically in a diabetes patient they do more ultrasounds and monitors things better....did they do that? NOPE! They weren't even considered about it. Yes, I know that my sugars were fine, but should the doctors have done more to monitor it still? It doesn't make any sense. I now look back, and I think about these "little" signs that something just wasn't right.
I also had fallen down some stairs, and they had discovered he had an irregular heart beat..but the doctors were never worried about it...they did one follow up with fetal doppler ekg, but when it came back normal..they ignored that there even could be an issue...should they have continued to keep an eye on it?
I know that none of this things were what caused Bentley to die. I think about these things...it's so hard to comprehend because Bentley was so healthy the entire pregnancy and so was I. I am not by any means saying that this would have changed the outcome because I know God had his hand in this. God knew what was going to happen with Bentley's lives even before I conceived. He had plans for him---and His plans are greater than mine. I love Bentley to death, but Blake and I both had stated that God could use Bentley to his glory and to change lives. We often times would tell Bentley he was going to change the world. And, I believe he has and he will continue to change lives. I know it is hard to determine and many people I think sometimes put me on a pedal stool and say "Oh, you are so strong", "i'm so proud of you guys" ect. But, truth is...GOD is the one getting us through this. He is the reason I am writing right now. He is the reason Blake and I are even closer. He is the reason that I have a peace. He is the reason I wake up and go to sleep. Blake and I know that it doesn't make sense, and it probably never will, but we know that God won't give us anything we can't handle. I really feel that we can overcome anything together now. Yes, I am not naive to think that we won't have bad days ahead. I am not over this, nor will I ever be over this, but I believe it will get easier to deal with. We simply have a new normal life to live..
Speaking of which...this poem is a great poem to explain the "new normal" Blake and I will live...
MY NEW “NORMAL”
Author Unknown
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family’s life.
Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine’s Day, July 4th and Easter.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby’s age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone’s eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my “normal”.
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child’s memory and her birthday and survive these days.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special that my baby would have loved, but how she is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you – it doesn’t compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. “God may have done this because…” I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have one child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
Author Unknown
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family’s life.
Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine’s Day, July 4th and Easter.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby’s age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone’s eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my “normal”.
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child’s memory and her birthday and survive these days.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special that my baby would have loved, but how she is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you – it doesn’t compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. “God may have done this because…” I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have one child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
I am just going to end with that...I hope many read our story. I hope many are able to depend on God alittle more. I can tell you that my faith was much weaker before all of this. God has just shown us so much in the last few weeks, and I can't thank Him for placing so many people in our lives that have helped us to stand on our feet. I want to make a difference. I often told people that I wanted to write a book or something. I always have loved to write, but there were many times that people would say " What would you write about Steph--you have no story to tell" Well, I can tell all those people who said that...I have a story to tell now. I have a journey that started 9 months ago...and I don't think the journey will ever end...so who knows maybe one day people will be reading a book about our story. I hope to be able to touch lives through Bentley's story. One day Blake and I would like to be support for another family or individual who this may happen to. I don't wish anyone to stand in our shoes, but it happens more than people think...
Blake and I are placing our lives in God's hands...He will