Blessed with an Angel

-I wrote this exactly one year ago and wanted to share!

Blessed with an Angel

Hair so dark
Eyes so small
Hands so frail
Beautiful toes.

Ears so cute,
He has my nose!

Sent straight from heaven
To live four sacred days.

From the Savior's arms,
To my arms,
And back to the Savior he goes.

Valiant spirit
Wise eyes
Fighter all the way.

We have an angel
In our little family
Perfect in every way.

He watches over us
He sees us
He loves us.

We love our angel Ryan
We are so proud of him,
We miss him and
Can't wait to kiss his wings.

~November 12, 2008

White Box

I wrote this a year ago, it was so hard to write but I needed to get it all out. I thought I would share this, it's very hard to read even now, but it is an honest look at the grief and shock I endured...

White Box

I sit in my wheelchair awaiting the car that will take me home and strip me of the place where I said hello and goodbye (for now) to my baby son Ryan. The rain is pouring down, odd for an August day. It’s raining because God is sad I begin to think, sad for my heartbreak that is. The rain looks like the tears that flow down my cheeks and unto my lap. I’m wearing an ugly outfit and no shoes or socks. I have on a big grey sweater and red sweat pants. It’s the only thing comfortable to wear over my incision and the pad that protects it from my clothes. Even the touch of clothes to my cut stings bad. In my lap I’m holding a white box. What a horrible picture this is because I’m holding all that I have left of my baby’s short life here in this hospital.

There’s a smaller blue box inside the bigger white one that holds the blanket his body laid on in his incubator, his hand prints and footprints and pieces of his feathery black hair. His medical bracelets are in a zip lock bag, they read, “Baby Boy Tracy” because it took us a couple days to name him the perfect name. There’s also the thermometer we used on him, a tiny diaper of his, a nose suction thing, and a white outfit they put him in after he passed in that zip lock bag. I have some pictures that the nurse took, lots of cards people gave us in the white box, along with the big white blanket my friend made me that I held Ryan in for the first time and where he passed away in, in my arms. This is all we have of his life and these things will be cherished and treated like rubies or gold and all precious things, almost like untouchables.

How pathetic, how sad as I sit in a wheelchair, handicapped by my surgery, my hair is a tangled mess, I couldn’t recognize myself if I had a mirror. My eyes are puffy and dark. My face pasty white, lips cracked. I have a strong grip on this white box, I never want to let it go, it’s all I have! It will give me my memories back when I start to forget, if I ever forget. The smell of my baby is all around the things in this box. I pull the big white blanket to my sore nose and breathe in heavily, Ryan feels so close, just a breath away, literally. More tears flow as each breath of his scent off this blanket tear at my heart. My eyes begin to sting, my body shakes, and I pray that this blanket never looses Ryan’s scent. I know better because it probably will soon and that makes me even sadder. I never want to forget his sweet scent. I wish I could put it in a bottle and wear it as perfume, just like if he were alive and his scent would be all over me because of me holding him constantly.

I see the black car pull up. I’m wheeled towards the pouring rain, towards hard and depressing dark days of heartache to come. Wheeled away from my home and life with Ryan, the hospital that changed my life forever and that helped deliver my son alive, and that still holds my son’s beautiful body now. Every inch away from the hospital, the further I get from my baby, and the deeper my heart aches and rips apart. I get into the car, barely, there’s so much pain. I hold on tight to my box and we drive away. I will never forget. I will always come back to visit this place. I never want to sit in a wheelchair again. My box on my lap is all I have left, it’s all I want, I will look at these heavenly treasures everyday I promise myself through the pounding rain. My son’s life on earth… in a box, his life now in heaven is endless. I breathe in, and breathe out.

~ October 20, 2008

Journal Entry about Ryan

I read this entry I wrote in my journal, about a year ago, the other day and wanted to share it.

-October 18, 2008

Today is my 23rd birthday. While 23 may seem so young, I feel old. Going through the experiences I did with Ryan; pregnancy complications, pre-term labor, emergency c-section, Ryan's Trisomy 18 diagnosis, his passing and then funeral, all of it makes me feel exhausted and so wrong. We visit his grave sight every Sunday. When I stand there I feel like an old woman, or better yet wish I was one, because then that would mean I'm closer to seeing Ryan again. It shouldn't be me standing there anyway. It should be my children, including Ryan, looking over my grave. That's supposed to be the circle of life, and when that circle is distorted and mothers stand at their babies graves, life becomes altered, the world stops and hushes to a silence, just like their hearts. It's unatural, unfair and so heartbreakingly crue I think.

My birthday isn't as exciting as it usually feels, because I wish I had my baby Ryan to celebrate with us. I miss him so very much! With the holidays coming up, I'm going to miss him even deeper because I will be missing out on all of those wonderful memories and traditions I could enjoy and create with him. Do they have special events or holidays in heaven? Will we be allowed to celebrate and create traditions there? I hope so, that way we can still share those special times with Ryan one day. Will we be able to create new memories in heaven after this life? I hope so, so that we can create many years of memories with him from childhood to adulthood. I hope the process of infancy to adulthood is slow in heaven so that I can enjoy Ryan as a baby, toddler, etc., just like I would have here.

The other night, it was getting late, and I had to make a quick run to the store. I saw that night how dark, hard, lonely, and sick the world really is and suddenly I thought how grateful I am that Ryan was spared from this world of sin and sorrow. Who knows what he would have had to go through or what bad things could have happened to him. As his blessing said, he was too great. As his mother I am glad he is safe with the Savior. He's loved and very protected there! I am glad, actually feel blessed, about that.

- Reading this now a year later, I feel I have come a long way. I still have all of the same feelings, but I have more knowledge of the promises that await me and have found joy in the many wonderful things I have to look forward to. I am glad I feel strong enough and have an open desire to share these personal feelings with you.

Heaven Day

One year ago today Ryan slipped from my arms to the Savior's arms at 11:33 am. I will never forget the peace and the heartbreak I felt all at once at this moment.

I will always remember:
The fear I had in me that morning knowing what would happen
Wondering how long you would live after we took all the tubes away
Feeling so much joy as I held you for the first time in my arms and felt your warms skin next to mine
So happy to see you pain free
Hoping that you could hear me sing to you and feel my warm touch
Kissing you so much over and over on your nose, little lips, eyes, head, chin... everywhere so I could remember what it felt like later on
Not knowing how to know when you passed because you were so tiny, but you made a little squeak, your first sound, and my soul filled with so much joy
The moment the nurse came in and found your heart still beating
And then the moment the nurse came in and found no heart beat, and then another nurse coming in to confirm and write down passing time
The room we were in when it all happened, in your wonderful pediatricians office that was so secluded, and comfortable, and private
After your passing the stillness that was in the room, it felt like the world had stopped
The peace that came upon me and your dad that lasted the rest of the day, like you were there with us, watching everything and everyone
All the family and close friends that came in after a couple hours we had alone with you, each taking turn holding you
How beautiful and peaceful you looked, so perfect
The look your big brother had on his face when he first came into the room to see you, the door opened, he ran in yelling baby!
The way Jonathon was so curious, wanting to touch you all over and hug you and ask questions
The feeling I got holding you all day, I never wanted to let go, I had to soak each second up
The moment later that day we decided it was time for the nurse to take you away and how my heart literally broke in two and I felt as if I might die
The crying Jake and I did lying next to each other in my hospital bed the rest of the evening and all night long

We love you sweet angel baby and know you are watching over us, we miss you tremendously and can't wait for the day when we will meet again! I am so lucky to be your mommy forever!! I am so lucky to know that after this life we will still be a family, together forever! Tonight we are releasing white balloons with special messages written on them at the cemetery to send you in heaven, Jonathon loves doing this, we will be enjoying donuts (halos) in your honor too angel Ryan :)

Baby Ryan

Ryan Christopher Tracy

My beautiful son Ryan was born on August 21, 2008 at 6:13 am, two months early at only 30 weeks gestation. It was a very hard and shocking day. Jake, Jonathon, and I went in for a quick 15 minute heart and fluid monitoring session, and what ended up happening was the last thing we ever thought could happen. During this check up the nurse said I was having contractions! This shocked me because what I thought was Ryan moving all around, which he always did, were actually little contractions. I was quickly checked afterwards by my OB Dr. Waller, and my worst nightmare was at my door, yet again with this pregnancy, I was in labor and dilated over a one. So I was then quickly sent up stairs, meanwhile Jake is wrestling with poor tired Jonathon and shocked in disbelief as well. We checked into labor and delivery at the University of Washington Medical Center in Seattle around 3 pm. Changing into my gown, getting an IV put into my arm, all the procedures seemed like a nightmare, like I would wake up because it was too unreal, too unfair. I had no idea what would happen to me, to Ryan for being so early.

Jonathon was picked up by Jake’s mom, thank goodness around 5:30 pm. Many nurses were comforting saying that the medicine I was given through my IV and the pills taken would stop my contractions, and I could keep Ryan in me for weeks! This made me happy and hopeful. Until about 2 in the morning I noticed a lot of extra fluid running down my leg, and after an examination, another nightmare at my door, my water was broken. But there was still hope, yes, the nurses said babies can live weeks without amniotic fluid too; hope once again restored a little. My contractions had stopped and I was still leaking a lot of amniotic fluid, soaking towel after towel in seconds. My nurse wanted Jake and I to get some rest so she gave me two strong sleeping pills at about 4 am. At about 5 am about 15 nurses suddenly ran through our hospital room door checking the baby’s heart rate, pulling tubes, taking data and suddenly I was being wheeled out on my bed into another room, I asked what was wrong! And a nurse replied that the baby’s heart rate was dropping very fast! They told Jake to stay put in the room and the next thing I knew, half drowsy from my sleeping pills; I was being prepared for an emergency C-Section. I was shaking uncontrollably, scared out of my mind. The anesthesiologist talked to me for a second and prepared me for a spinal in my back, after that my body from my stomach down to my toes went numb. Then I saw my huge belly being rubbed with brown stuff. Finally, Jake arrived at my side and the surgery had begun.

I don’t remember very much what happened after, but Jake said they sewed and stapled my tummy up like a shirt, the baby made it out alive and was being transported to the NICU, and I felt Jake stroking my hair and kissing my forehead. A couple hours after delivery they transported me, on a hospital bed, to the NICU to see Ryan for the first time. I guess the first thing I asked Jake was if his hands were clinched. Then I saw him and he was so tiny and had tubes everywhere. I cried and reached out to him and put my finger in his clinched right hand. After this my mom shortly arrived, and Jonathon with Jake’s parents to see the baby. Jonathon had to put on a gown, hair net, and a mask to see the baby; he didn’t like it too much. The next day our Bishop came with another couple in our ward Sean and Amanda MacDonald to give me, Jake, and Ryan a blessing. I was blessed to be able to hold Ryan and that he would be alive to feel my warmth.

We knew something was wrong with Ryan by the obvious signs, clinched hands, webbed toes on right foot, and how little he was. He weighed 2 pounds and 11 ounces at birth, 14 ½ inches long. We were waiting, however on his test results to get more information. The following day after visiting, singing, holding Ryan’s hands we met with his Pediatrician, who was excellent, Dr. Batra and a couple other Dr’s. This moment was the most excruciating and heart breaking moment of my life! They confirmed the nightmare I had been pushing back all these weeks, Ryan had Trisomy 18 the very rare chromosomal disorder, the words “fatal” flushed through my mind and I cried and cried. I couldn’t believe it! My son, my little baby! Ryan had many heart abnormalities, his lungs were underdeveloped, but better then they would have been if I hadn’t taken the steroid shot the night before his birth in my bottom to boost his lung development. His brain had certain problems and his trachea was abnormal. He was suffering, and the only thing keeping him alive was his breathing tube, which was very uncomfortable for him. When I saw his pain and anguish I felt sick and so did Jake. Dr. Batra said many parents put their babies through a lot of pain for their own selfish desires, and he urged us to think otherwise, to think of Ryan’s comfort.

And so we knew what we had to do, the worst thing that could ever happen to me was at my doorstep, at age 22. We would take him out of the incubator and hold him and kiss him and comfort him as he went back into the Savior’s arms. We waited until Sunday, August 24 to do this so family and friends flying and driving in from out of state could meet our beautiful son Ryan and feel of his mighty spirit. Saturday the 23^rd, all of our family and some friends arrived and Jake gave Ryan Christopher Tracy a name and a blessing. In this blessing every comfort I needed and every answer to my pain was delivered. Ryan was a valiant spirit sent down to earth to gain his perfect tabernacle, and that’s all he needed to do. He was too perfect to live in this world full of sin and sorrow. Heavenly Father needed Ryan back for his own wise purpose and I trusted this and knew it to be true. Ryan was part of the hosts of heavenly angels who helped deliver Satan out of Heaven. What a proud mother I am when I heard these words. My handsome son only needed a body for a few short days, more perfect than any of us, and I knew and still know that I need to live every day as perfect and like the Savior, so that I can be worthy to still be called, “mother,” by Ryan in the eternities to come. In his blessing it said that he would be doing missionary work, and that he completed all of his duties the Lord asked of him before this life. Ryan would have an eternal companion one day and he would feel the warmth of his mother’s arms.

Everyone who met him and held him felt of his strong and perfect spirit. Sunday at 11:33 am on August 24, 2008 Ryan passed away, very still and peacefully in my arms. It was so amazing to hold him for 10 minutes alive without any tubes and wires and the look of anguish on his face. He was at peace, he was warm to my touch, and I kissed him and hugged him and sang to him in those 10 minutes a long with Jake. When he passed the world was suddenly so still, so quiet, like it had stopped turning and I felt at peace. I saw my little baby, not alive, and it was like a nightmare in my head, like it wasn’t happening to me, but it was and yet I still felt his spirit dwelling there in that room with us and our family all day while we held him and took pictures. When Jonathon came into the room and saw his baby brother he yelled “Baby!” and ran towards him. He touched him all over, gave hugs and kisses, and was very curious and excited. He will be such a great big brother. He will, along with other future children, know of Ryan and love him and work hard to return back to him and Heavenly Father.

I never thought I could ever be strong enough to make it sanely or alive even going through losing a baby, but here I am alive, able to still smile and breathe, and my testimony has grown tremendously. I have never loved, and relied so heavily upon the Atonement and the Resurrection. Ryan, my beautiful baby boy, is with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ now; they are taking such great care of him. Ryan is doing the work of God; he is in a total state of happiness. He feels no pain, or sorrow and I know he wants Jake and me to feel happy for him and remain hopeful and steadfast in the Gospel and do our part here on earth in the temple. Together on both sides of the veil we will work.

I miss him every second, I miss kissing his cute nose, feeling the black hair on his head, holding his little fingers, just holding him, my baby, in my arms and rocking him and singing to him. I know he felt my love and warmth before he passed and I am so grateful we had that opportunity. What seemed like a chain of nightmares I see now was God’s plan. We are so humbled by submitting ourselves to God’s will. Ryan was meant to come now, and the way he came into the world enabled him to live to feel our touch.

I love you Ryan, more than my own life, with every inch of my being, you’re my beautiful and sweet son. Watch over us and your big brother Jonathon. Visit us with your spirit often. I cannot wait to see you again, to hold you, kiss you, see your sweet face, and raise you! What a joyful day that will be!! I feel so lucky to have you, to have been chosen to be the one to create your tabernacle with your dad and keep you safe inside me for seven wonderful months. I loved every kick and movement you made while in my tummy, so full of life. I ask myself what I did to be so lucky to deserve a perfect and valiant child. I know you feel lucky to have a mom and dad like us too. Until we meet again I will think of you so much every day, I will be the best wife and mom I can be here, I will help work along side you with missionary work, and I will hold you in my heart always. Love forever,

Ashley, Ryan’s lucky mommy