This is a copy from our other blog:
Little Wyatt Landry was perfect. He had my nose and the rest of him looked like Weston. His skin was traumatized from birth. You could still see through some of it. His eyes were fused shut. He had the most beautiful fingers and toes-complete with the tiniest toenails and fingernails you've ever seen. You could see the peace on his face. We needed to see that. He was the most peaceful angel we've ever seen or imagined to see. He never took a breath in this world. He was born breach and the whole process took about 8 1/2 hours after they started the induction. I did end up having to push quite a bit since he was breach. I was so terrified. Weston was there to hold my hand and we had two wonderful nurses there helping me.
We had some beautiful gowns (they brought one for a boy and a girl since we didn't know until he as born) that were brought to us from the church that were made from donated wedding dresses. It came with a beautifully crocheted blanket as well-I slept with it last night. The girl that brought them is part of a ministry at church-she had to deliver her two babies at 20 weeks and knows loss all too well.
They dressed him for us after they cleaned him and we spent almost three beautiful hours with him. It was absolutely the worst day of our lives...and the most amazing at the same time. We got to hold him. Weston baptized him. It was awesome. They had a camera and we were able to get a few pictures for our memory box. They took little prints of his feet too. He was never weighed or measured. According to my corresponding weeks, he was about 7 ounces and about 5 1/2 inches long. It was the hardest thing imaginable when it was time for him to leave our arms. The funeral home came and he was cremated sometime this morning.
It was even harder leaving the hospital today with empty arms. When you are pregnant and expecting a child, you have so many plans for your life as a family together. You have dreams of your nursery; the toys and joys of those first years of your lives together. I imagined it was a boy; a wonderfully loving playmate for Weston. I imagined the leggos and transformers we could play with; and the computer and video games he and his daddy would play together. We had to leave the hospital today without that dream. There should have been a carseat in the back. There should have been cries from his little lungs. A joyful noise that we will never hear from his lips.
We are having a small, private prayer service on Tuesday to remember his short, beautiful life.
This is the hardest thing we've ever done or dealt with in our lives. All the physical pain in the world could never begin to describe our hurt and sorrow. We know time will heal. We have been through so much in these past three years of marriage. If you ask me, it's a little more than one couple should bear. 2 1/2 years of infertility. Two successful IVF cycles-both ending with loss. I'm not sure why we are being put through such hurt and sorrow. I'm not sure how two people are supposed to keep on keeping on after so much. But, we will. We have, and we will.
For now, we are going in to a safe, dark hole and grieve together. God Bless all of our friends and family and even the strangers out there who have sent their amazing support and love. We cannot do this without you. Please allow us time to cry, to talk about our loving angel, and just help to offer a shoulder for us to cry on. If we don't call or email you back, we still appreciate your calls and for reaching out to us. Please continue to pray for us and for our angel. We need the peace in our hearts to carry on in this world without our son.
4 hours ago