My Worst Day

It's been forever since I posted anything - especially remotely related to running, so please bare with me on this post as well. I don't even know if anyone will read this, but it is more for me at this point anyway.
As you may know, I announced back in March that we were expecting. As the date came closer, I became consumed with projects that needed to be finished up around the house before the birth. It became increasingly more difficult in the last 4-5 weeks as my wife was in and out of the hospital because "things" didn't look great - they weren't awful, but not where doctors wanted things to be. In late July, my wife was hospitalized for 3 days for monitoring, only to be released, no delivery - this was at 33 1/2 weeks. Doctors didn't want to deliver too soon unless it was too dangerous for baby in womb. More tests and ultrasounds every other day, though sometimes twice in the same day, and similar results. Lots of concern on our end, because doctors were concerned, but not really acting on those concerns.
Two weeks ago, I thought we were actually going to deliver, but once again we got sent home. A consulting doctor didn't want to deliver at 35 weeks because of concern of lung development - even though my wife was given steroids a week and a half prior for just that. So another doctor appointment on Monday, once again similar results, then an amniocenteses was done on Tuesday morning to actually check lung development. Results came back towards end of day -- surprise! the lungs were 100% developed. So She was scheduled to come in that night to be induced. We arrived at the hospital at 5:30, where my wife felt a big movement while waiting to be taken up to room. Fifteen minutes later, nurses were putting the doppler monitor on her, but could not find a heart beat. After 3 different ultrasound machines were used, it was determined that our little boy had died in utero.
Instant shock and devastation set in. We were horrified. How?! Why?!
In trying to cope with all of this I have lost my way. I am working so hard to keep things together. A huge outpouring of love and support from family and friends is helping. My wife and I talk about our feelings to one another, and we still have our beautiful little girl who needs us and is also helping us get through this.
But yet my grief and sorrow and stress is still here. I feel helpless at times. I need to feel "normal" again, yet it feels selfish. I want to run. I NEED to run. But I can't seem to find the desire to get out the door and I think if I could run, it would help with a lot of things, though not solve them.
They say time will heal all things. I don't know how long it will be, but I do know that I will eventually get back to running and I will be running a race in my son's name... Everett Eric.