Spring Feels Special this Year

On a cold, dark January morning my wife, Paisley, called me upstairs for some help. Being a farm boy I thought nothing of it and climbed the stairs to find her sitting in the hall. I didn’t know it, but this would be the first moment I fell in love with my son. Paisley handed me a positive pregnancy test and time slowed down in one of those cheesy movie ways where nothing else in the world matters. A day later, our doctor confirmed the pregnancy and scheduled us an appointment with a midwife a few towns over.

We were advised to keep this news to ourselves until we could confirm via ultrasound that the baby was healthy. For weeks he was our little secret, our special reason to smile, to see hope after a long rough year. It was hard to keep this news to ourselves. We had been trying for a short time, but our spirits were high and it was hard to not share with our friends and family. Harder yet, was explaining Paisley’s increased appetite as our boy grew. She’s always been a “snacky” person and we began jokingly brushing off her ferocious appetite with the phrase “A big dawg gotta eat”. Big Dawg became our name for him.

In early March we saw Big Dawg for the first time, his little body had grown to 2cm. We could make out his head and his arms and legs via small knubs. It took several minutes to find him on the screen, but when we did, he wiggled seemingly on queue to wave at us and say hi to his young mom and dad. Not being up to date on medicine, I was amazed to even see him so young. Even more amazing was the ability to test his blood for any medical problems and tell the gender. We opted for this hoping it would help us plan for his arrival in the coming months.

That night we told my parents over dinner, bringing out a roll of photos for them to see. We were finally able to share our joy. News spread to friends and family, and our big dawg brought joy to others just as he had to us.

Weeks went by as we waited for the bloodwork. I was on the road for work, away from home but Paisley and I agreed that she should take the call so we knew as soon as possible. 1 day before I returned home we discovered Big Dawg was in perfect health and would be a boy. Our boy, our son, perfect in every way. I”m sure I looked like a goof to everyone I saw on my way home, smiling ear to ear. I was going home to my wife and my son, nothing could bring me down.

When I arrived home I found my wife in pain, all was not well. The earliest we could be seen was Tuesday, not very comforting to young parents on a Saturday. Our weekend was filled with fear and little sleep. I have not seen Paisley in such pain and I don’t care to ever see it again, but we held onto hope, hope that Big Dawg was okay and we’d get to meet him.

I felt the hope slip from me as the ultrasound technician worked to find a heartbeat. I didn’t understand the screens, but I understood the technician as her posture changed. She couldn’t tell us but I knew. It’s not her fault, she was doing her best. I can’t thank her enough for printing us one last picture of Big Dawg, something for us to hold as we waited for the results to come back.

Our midwife took us into the room and told us his heart had stopped sometime over the weekend. They couldn’t find a reason and it didn’t matter. There’s nothing to say to make that news easier to swallow. I wasn’t in any shape to drive, but I had to get away, had to take my wife home to the woods and be away from the people.

The confirmation of his death was the last straw for Paisley’s body. Doubled over in pain we waited for the miscarriage. 8 PM came and we were on the way to the ER, bag not packed for a birth, but for a night of hell as the world seemingly turned against us. The nurses were kind, and the Doctor too as they tried to console us, but the only good news was there wasn’t anything life-threatening facing Paisley tonight. For some time now this was going to be our horrible nightmare. We returned home that night around 1 am and crawled into bed, waiting to face another day.

With a previously scheduled appointment the next day, we laid in bed until it was time to go. Paisley walked to the restroom to freshen up before another long ride to the midwife and it happened. To put it as the OBGYN did, it was “Remarkable”. Paisley in all her strength passed Big Dawg and his home with no pain and no fear. Never have I felt such tremendous sadness and happiness at the same time. The reality of my dead son lay before me, but my wife was okay, there was hope for us to be okay.

I dug a tiny grave for my son that day. We laid him to rest here on the farm, in a box built by his grandfather, under a butterfly bush. He will see every sunrise and visit with the butterflies.

We were only able to know Big Dawg for 12 weeks, but he will always be my son, my boy.

Spring has finally come to our little farm in the woods. The trees are blooming and the birds are singing. Spring always comes, but this one feels different.