Reclaiming My Life

Seventeen years ago today my first son, Benjamin, was born. I was ready for his arrival, yet I was not ready. I wanted him to come, yet I did not want him to come. I was scared about his arrival, yet I was terrified by his arrival.

“What’s so unusual about that?” you might say. “Everyone feels like that.”

Not exactly. You see, when Benjamin was born, he was only at 22 weeks gestation. While they’ve now got the ability to save some babies at that age and size, in 1992 there was no hope, especially since the hospital that our chosen doctor was affiliated with had no Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU), nor any other way to attempt to save him. They couldn’t even stop (or slow) my wife’s labor. Benjamin was born at less than a pound. He lived for less than five minutes.

Responses from family ranged from “We’re on our way” to “We’re so sorry” to “You shouldn’t have named him.” (Gotta love family, huh?)

We were devastated. My wife pretty much checked out of the world for the next couple of years. I kept on going because I needed to keep the world turning, thinking that I was handling the issues as I went. As it turns out, I never really came to terms with it.

I’ve finally begun that journey recently, after much soul-searching and much assistance from my friendly neighborhood mental health professional. I’ve been running from my feelings surrounding Benjamin’s birth and death, and if I’m going to have any kind of inner peace, I need to finally deal with it.

I may end up making some changes to my life as a result of this, but I really have no idea. It is incredibly difficult, as there are many things that have become integral to my life that may be placed into play as I sort out what I’m feeling, but I know that it is the right path. My wife and my second son, born six years later, must be part of the path. I know that much. After 17 years, I’m finally close to the answer. I only hope that I have the strength to follow this path through to the end.

Wish me luck.

I miss you, Benjamin, and even 17 years later, I would give anything if I could change what happened. I love you, son.