Somehow reading that the exact chain of events that happened to us has played out in other families, with other babies, in other people's bedrooms, over and over, thousands and thousands of times, has been comforting. Not that I would wish this horror on any other human (oh, how I would not!), but it is reassuring to know that it is not just us who have experienced this. It seems bizarre to find solace in articles that would have previously been unsettling, or even haunting, to me, but in a way it makes the whole thing seem more real. Less like I'm trapped in some bizarre nightmare. (Although what I wouldn't give to wake up from this...)
There is a strange comfort in having his death and unsuccessful attempts at resuscitation fit a pattern, however horrible... To make a tragic sort of sense... To have followed a disastrous, but logical progression. It is settling and grounding in the saddest way to know that others have been exactly where we are now. However awful it may be, we are not alone.
It doesn't take away the pain, but it makes me feel a little less disoriented and unmoored. At least at this moment. Like the sick surges of adrenaline have stopped pumping through my veins, however briefly.
I guess I'll just be glad for the break, even if I'm not convinced it will last until bedtime. I'll take what I can get.
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