My Angel Owen

 This picture means so much to me for so many reasons. It contains Owen's urn and a wiggle worm rattle that we got for him before we knew we were going to lose him. It contains a Willow Tree Angel of Mine memory box that a dear friend that I met through my journey with Owen gave to me. She and I shared a path that was so similar, both of our babies had the same diagnosis, both of our babies were bo...rn still within a day of one another, both of our angels are now playing in Heaven together, and both of our angels now have big brothers. Leo is the final thing this picture contains. He is represented by the lions, for courage.  All of these things sit atop the armoire that my wonderful hubby began building for Owen, and finished building for Leo. I have a couple of friends who share things from the Prayers for Corbin page on Facebook. I have read them each time I see them shared but it wasn't until today that I saw the reason for Corbin's passing. I haven't told anyone this before because it was so personal to me and because I felt responsible in some way for it happening. Even though I knew in my heart that it wasn't my fault and that there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it, I still have held it tight and kept it quiet. It needs to be let out so that I can be free from this weight on my shoulders. Now that I have a page that only has those people that I feel closest to and that I trust, now is the time. Like Corbin, Owen was diagnosed with Trisomy 13. We were told that he wouldn't survive and that if he went to term that he wouldn't be born alive. We were told in such a way that it was like the doctor was slipping us a quote for a car or something, so flippant, so disregarding of our feelings and what this news did to us. Thankfully I had the best OB on the planet and she asked me how I wanted to handle the pregnancy knowing that it would take a miracle for Owen to be ok. I said simply, I want my baby and myself to be treated like any other patient of yours. I don't want the feeling of doom and gloom when I come into the office. I am a realist and I don't try to convince myself of something that I know is nearly impossible. I held onto a glimmer of hope that by some miracle, the ultrasound was wrong, that he was ok. He acted like a normal baby while he was in my tummy. His only indicator on the ultrasound was one club foot. That was it. Amniocentesis confirmed that that one indicator was indeed something more, a fatal, rare genetic disorder that not many people are even aware of. I wasn't. I am now and I am hearing more and more about it now that I am aware. I have spoken with friends who have also lost a baby, but this is the first time that I am going public with exactly why our precious Owen was born still at 35 weeks. When Leo was born, he was the spitting image of Owen. I literally wailed when I held him for the first time. I am certain that Owen and Leo share a connection. Leo hugs and kisses a picture of Owen. It's the only picture he does that with. They have the same nose, the same lil stinker attitude. I know that a part of Owen lives on in Leo, as well in our hearts, and that his diagnosis brought good things to me that I never would have gotten without it, a dear sweet friend, a knowing and compassion that I never would have had for a disorder that I never knew existed, and a greater appreciation for Leo than I ever could have had without knowing how easily he could have been taken away and a greater appreciation for him knowing that he will always carry something so incredibly special with him, his baby brothers nose, and sassy attitude, and his memory.

xoxo

S