Of course I wanted this to be at the end of the post...

I don't even know what to write anymore. Or do. Or say. I've lost my little sweetheart. And I don't even know how I'm able to function. I'm sure its probably because of the kids and their need to be taken care of. They are probably the only reason I get up in the morning. After talking to the hospital social worker for the first time since Deklan's death I feel better knowing even getting up in the morning is progress. But thank goodness people just know that when someone dies you send food cause cooking is the last thing I want to be doing. For the first week I ran at a flat out pace organising and putting the house together after my four month absence. But now I am starting to crash and burn. It's really starting to get hard. I'm finding going out with all the children the most difficult because I feel like I've lost one. I know I have but I feel it in that literal way. The best way I can describe it is this...While in the second big city we were air lifted to The Lumber Guy and I took Little Peeper out for lunch to a nice restaurant. She was the only child with us for the majority of our stay there and it was a luxury for her to have us together. He and I switched off at being at the hospital so Deklan was rarely alone. This particular day we decided to go out for lunch at a restaurant attached to a mall. When we got up to pay she ran. She ran around a booth and out into the mall. But because she'd run out behind the booth it had looked like she ran into the restaurant. She was missing for three whole minutes. Three minutes of sheer hell. We even called security. All she had done was some window shopping. But that feeling of losing her and not being able to find her is what I feel all the time now. And when I'm out with the kids its worse and I'm constantly counting them. I even have dreams and the baby isn't Deklan but its lost and hungry and crying and I can't find it. It tears me apart because everything I believe tells me he is safe and well and happy where he is, so why can't I feel it? I could feel everything with him. He and I had a bond I didn't have with the other kids as babies. It was a physical type connection and maybe I just had it with him because he was the only one who was unwell. I felt it even before he was born. At one point my chest hurt for two days. I didn't know if I was getting sick or if I was tired or why it was feeling that way. He had a chest x-ray and it showed a collapsed lung. Things like that were not uncommon throughout his illness.

I'm trying to pull the meaning and the lesson out of this. It's hard. I'd like to be able to recount his story in a productive, reflective, meaningful way but I just can't yet. Its all gonna come out in bits and pieces for now I'm afraid. All I know is that I was so blessed to have had him, even if it was for just 4 months and 12 days. He was honestly the sweetest human being I've ever known. Everyone who met him loved him. In a way I was lucky. I had him completely to myself for his whole life. His life was in the hospital and my only job was to be there for him. No dishes to do. No kids to get off to school. It was was just Deklan and Mom. His bath was his favorite thing and sometimes I'd bath him twice a day. When we were moved to a shared room with no tub I took him in the shower with me. That was how little I left him. Even when I spent time with the other kids his dad was with him. And one of us stayed until the other got there before we'd leave. In his sickest days I'd stay up until he was calm and fell asleep cause me holding his hand worked better than Ativan. One day he'd been crying for a couple of hours and when I came in and talked to the nurse he heard me and stopped. That's how strong our bond was. So now I wish I could feel that he was at peace. But I don't feel much.

Even in death we could not leave him alone. We did not want him to spend another minute more than he had to at the hospital. We called the funeral home to come and get him the evening he passed so he did not have to go to the cold place in the basement. His father carried him out to their waiting van. He was wrapped in the new little blue blanket I'd bought for him. It was so nice to have someone to buy blue for again. There's been so much pink in this house for so long. We pushed to have him cremated the very next day because we could not fly home without him. I don't know that we'll be able to bury the ashes. It seems fitting that he is here with us just as he always has been. So the little green velvet bag is upstairs in his crib. Next to his dresser full of all his little clothes I washed and put away. I know he's not coming back to wear them, but I just don't know what else to do with them. He'll always be a part of our family. The little brother. And his stuff won't always be here, but right now its fine that it is.

I guess this is probably enough rambling on for now. I'll post a picture that I feel is so fitting. On the bus to the airport everyone paired up. The seats were in twos and we took up a few rows (the joys of having a big family...we also checked 9 bags). All the kids were sitting together and I looked back and saw my sweet little HannaBanana...