No one ever could have fully prepared me for the death of my three year old little boy. Even up until the days before his death after his DNR was put into place and we were told that we needed to make arrangements for his body. His body? What the heck, my little boy was still right in front of me in fact just a few short weeks earlier he still had a faint glimmer of life still in him -- an occasional smile. During his last hours I laid by his bed with my one hand vigorously stroking his blond hair and the other hand resting on his chest feeling each and every beat of his heart. Even after I felt his heart stop for a brief moment and my adrenalin surged through my tired body I still was not able to fully grasp that my baby boy who I once had hopes for as far as the sky was about to leave me forever.
It's just something you can never be prepared for.
This week our sweet Gavin would be turning six. Did you catch that? Six years old. It's both hard and painful to swallow and at times the pill feels so big that I'd rather just spit it out and pretend that it doesn't exist.
Out of all the death holidays, if that's even such a thing, this one is by far the worst. What once was a day a celebration and extreme excitement -- that he once again beat the odds, proved medical science wrong and was a celebration of survival, is now a day of what if's. I hate that that I only have three years to reflect on. Hate it. Most of the day's we choose to remember, like the day of his death and his time of diagnosis are days of reflection to simply remember and feel, his day of birth however is very different for me as his mother. I birthed my baby from my very body. I remember the pain. I remember the final push that brought him into this very world. His birth is part of my existence -- it's something I just can't reflect on but something that I feel in the deepest part of my soul.
With all this said I have learned this -- life can be taken away at any time. Don't waste it.
It's within all this pain that God has chosen to do some pretty mind blowing stuff. I'm not so sure God caused all this crap but I do know that He has given Adam and I this ability to overcome -- to walk out of a pit so nasty and ugly and step out still alive -- still breathing and still willing to fight.
With that will to fight came love like no other and with that love came two additional amazing children. So now where does life take us? I'm not sure. What I am sure of is this -- We as a family live as if this is our last -- our last hug, our last smile, our last trip to the park, our last goodnight and the list could go on forever.
God has given us so very much. We as a culture are always looking for more, always looking way to far ahead. Some of the biggest blessings are sitting on the sofa right next to us, maybe even asking the billionth question of the day, wanting us to watch their same dance routine that we've seen a million times and even though they try to convince us they've added a new move -- it looks exactly the same.
Go hug your babies -- live like it's their last.