Day 7: Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda

Shiloh could have been perfectly healthy/he could have been severely impaired, I should have never taken that nap the day he died (you have no idea how many times I've night-mared myself with this one)/I should be 36 weeks along this weekend, I would have loved him just as much if he had lived/I would not be the same person if he had survived.

I try really hard not to live in Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda Land. . .that place full of lost possibilities and unmet expectations. It is like the dentist's office of mental monologues--it only spells p-a-i-n. I have to conscientiously remember to book a round trip flight whenever I venture abroad to this dismal destination.

When I met with my (plug in any adjective of your choosing that means perfect and lovely here) doctor today she gave us the test results they ran on Shiloh after he was delivered. The geneticist report said:

NO CHROMOSOMAL ABNORMALITIES

Basically this translates into what we all thought=Shiloh was a healthy little boy.

They are classifying his death as a cord accident (i.e. maybe he laid on the cord wrong, maybe the cord wasn't formed right, on and on). Bottom line is that it is very rare even in cases like mine. Shiloh beat the odds in both directions.

Up, up and away I flew into the Shoulda region of Never-Never Land (most dangerous zone if you ask me). I hovered there a minute or two, then did a rapid descent into reality and gut-checked myself with this thought:

"No amount of shouldas, or wouldas, or couldas are bringing Shiloh back. BE GRATEFUL Hill. It is what it is. Thank your Heavenly Father that Shiloh is a part of your life at all. Be happy you got the time you did unlike the millions of others out there who don't make it to 28 weeks, or who lived in a time when still-born children were considered morbid and these situations were swept under the rug. Live in today--not yesterday and not tomorrow. Today."

Shiloh, my little man--I honor you best by fighting in the cause of truth. I won't let the battle of possibilities distort the truth:

You lived. You died. You live. . .and I love you.