John and I finally were able to watch this movie tonight.
I admit. I thought it was an amazing movie.
I guess I just wasn't up for it.
And so, while I think it was amazing (and highly recommend it, and at another time, maybe when less hormonal, I will probably watch it again), and I think John did too, I am not in a great mood.
Mainly because after we watched it, I asked John, "So, what did you think?"
He said, "Well, since Matthew died so soon, I guess I don't have any regrets."
"You mean, you don't regret what kind of father you were to him because he wasn't with us long enough for you to really have any?"
That doesn't really apply to me.
I only have one.
That he died because I didn't have a c-section. Well, a scheduled c-section.
So, I guess that would qualify as a big one.
He of course said I had no reason to want a c-section and was going through labor the way I did based on sound medical advice.
Sound medical advice that killed my son, of course.
John then threw out that I had no way of knowing.
Knowing that a c-section would have kept a perfectly healthy and amazing and much-loved baby from dying for NO.GOOD.REASON.
And though I had no idea it would have saved him, I still went against my gut...my inner intuition...whatever you want to call it...I went against it. How many times while pregnant (and even before?) did I say that I wanted a c-section? Needed a c-section? Wished for the days where you were just wheeled into the hospital, put to sleep, woke up and there the baby was?
Who cares why I felt I needed one?
In the last weeks, I caved to peer pressure. I didn't follow my gut. I walked into that hospital shaking more than a drug addict on major withdrawal because I was so terrified.
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN. Something was not right. How much more plainly could it have been?
Even after Matthew died, Dr. Polko told me, "You know...we always thought you wanted a c-section because you just didn't want to tear stuff up down there...maybe you knew something cosmically that we just didn't know."
Too late to put any merit into that thought now. He's dead. I buried him.
John said, "You had no control over Matthew living or dying."
To him, I replied, "Would he have died if I scheduled a c-section?"
Folks, there we have our answer.
I've been accused of being stubborn once or twice in my life. (Ahem.)
Look what caving in and NOT being stubborn about something got me?
A grave. A dead baby. Trying to teach my son about his big brother simply by walking by his picture every day and saying, "Matthew."
I should mention again that I don't blame the movie for this mood. It just was the catalyst for conversation after that I am now trying to reconcile before I go to bed.
People talk about our strength and inspiration and bravery and blah-blah-blah.
I appreciate it. The human in me can't lie and say I am not pleased to hear that we endure and we try to give honor to God in doing so.
But courageous? Don't think so. Because if I was courageous, I'd have kept my foot down. Regardless of what ANYONE else thought...my GUT told me I needed to schedule a c-section.
If I was courageous, he'd have lived.