Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Happy Birthday My Sweet Noah

Bookmark and Share

My Sweet Dear Noah,

Happy Birthday Noah, you are one year old today.

Your beginning started out as a terrifying struggle for survival. I still remember so very vividly when I first laid my eyes upon you. Your sweet body was covered in tubes and wires and you rested in a little plastic container destined to take you away from me. I was not in that moment frightened for you. I cried tears of joy as I said out loud, “he’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen”. In that moment I felt no pain, could hear no one else around me, it was just you, me and God. You laid quite still. I watched your stomach move to breathe, looked at all the dark hair with a single curl at the very top. I loved you with every inch of my being. More than I’ve ever loved anything in this world.

Our journey began a year ago today - a life-altering event that we didn’t expect. I didn’t initially realize how serious your condition was. Thankfully, as I look back on it now I was grateful to have had been medicated as heavily as I was, so I didn’t fully comprehend how much you were fighting to be here. Christmas morning came, and we were still apart. Before the sun came up your doctors called us to ask if we would allow a blood transfusion, and told us you had been having seizures all night and they couldn’t get you stable. Your daddy spent the day with you, by your side. I remember trying to watch a parade on the hospital television, but I went in and out of sleep, missing blocks of time. I tried talking to people but could hear myself slurring words, and not making sense. A lady came to me, although I couldn’t tell you today what she looked like, but she kneeled down by my bedside opened my weak and unsteady hand to give me a pink rosary and told me we would be okay. Your daddy came back filled with tears that day, I was worried he didn’t know how to tell me you had gone to heaven.

When I was finally strong enough to be reunited with you I rushed to your side only to find that you were hooked up to so many machines and wires I could barely get to you. Your entire body shook with breathing machines, your head wrapped in what looked like a gob of tin foil, you looked lifeless and swollen. They said I could touch you, I didn’t know how, didn’t know where to even begin to find a way to comfort you. All I could safely get to was your little foot. I picked it up and held it so gently not to disturb the saturation monitor they had on you. I couldn’t talk to you, I just cried inconsolably, with my painful cry echoing every hallway. You moved your foot that I was holding and I told your daddy, “see he’ll be fine he moved his foot.” I felt you come alive, I knew you felt me.

My confidence in your survival was strong until they told us that your test results showed global brain damage and that you would not be able to survive on your own without breathing assistance. Our world crumbled, we didn’t know what to do, we had faith you’d be okay, but all the doctors told us there was no hope. We thought we had gotten the courage to say goodbye if you had wanted to go to heaven. We chose a day to take special pictures of you and take you off all the machines. I knew I wasn’t going to say goodbye that day even if it meant putting you back on machines to stay. I wasn’t ready. But God knew that. He sent for you two very special people, Bill and Ernie who held your foot, prayed for you and helped give you what you needed to stay. Even after they had left I wasn’t sure you would stay with us through the night. I looked at you and you looked at me with the same seriousness that you still do to this day. Do you remember what I asked you? I asked that you not look at the angels, not to listen to them, as I knew they must be pretty, and I felt many of them, but that I wanted you to stay with me, not to go with them.

You came home with us two days after, still not knowing if you would leave us at any time. But as the minutes turned into days and days into weeks and then into months, all the while you continued to get stronger and stronger. You had declared you were here to stay.

You have since made such a difference in this world in such a short amount of time. People who haven’t yet had the wonderful opportunity to meet you have fallen in love with you. We had asked that those you’ve touched send you special letters this year and this is my letter to you:

You have taught me a multitude of things in this short year. I planned my life out for as long as I could remember, calculating every step I made along the way, counting each goal as if it made me a superstar. The first thing you taught me is you can’t plan life. Someone once told me “If you want to make God laugh tell him your plans for your life.” That is so true. Life is unpredictable, we have some control over things, but most is God’s plan for us. Houses, cars, fancy diplomas, big careers, and possessions – none of them matter. Life matters, love matters.

You were meant to be here, meant to have the difficult birth you had, meant to face the challenges that you are. One day I pray that it will all be revealed to me, the purpose behind all of our hardships, our tears, that you will rise above every challenge before you to conquer all the dreams you desire.

When I look into your sweet baby blues, I think you understand that best of all. I feel you chose this, you knew that this is how it would be and you still wanted to be here. For that I am so very thankful. I can’t imagine what this world would be like without you in it. And I’m so glad you had the courage to stay knowing that your road would be harder than most.

You’ve shown me patience to give you the time to accomplish all these milestones that are moving slower for you. The sweetest rewards in life are the ones that you have to work the hardest for. You’ve shown me what things in life are truly worth fighting for, what things are trivial, and taught me to focus every part of positive energy I have in all the best directions.

You’ve taught me so much about people. Before you were born, I was hesitant to be that “social butterfly” that you’ll find your grandmother to be. I cautiously went about choosing friends, always wondering what intentions lay behind each person before including them in my life. You have opened doors to show me the beauty that people have, the love that they have for even those they have never met, you’ve restored my faith in my fellow man. God has brought countless people into our lives, none of them I would have had the pleasure to know had it not been you that had connected us. You have gathered people in love, restored faith, and given us hope.

When I see your smile and hear your laughter it reminds me of everything beautiful that God has created, the miracle that he has given to us, and presented to all. You are living proof that all things are possible, Noah. As time goes on, I see such determination and you’re strong will to succeed. Although there are a lot of things that do not come naturally for you, I see you trying so very hard everyday to find a way around it all to accomplish all that you set your mind to.

I couldn’t be more proud of you, more happy to be your mother. You are amazing in every sense of the word. And we are never alone. There are days when the house smells like fresh cut roses, those are the days I know God comes to check in on you. I wish you could tell me about all of your experiences, all that you know, all that you’ve come to do in this lifetime. There are secrets I see in your tender face, that I hope you’ll be able to share with me someday. You offer me comfort beneath my worries, and always find an unspoken way of reminding me of all the sunshine that surrounds us if I only look hard enough for it.

You will always be the most important part of our lives, we are so blessed to have you, to be able to share this journey with you. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for his December Rainbow and his sweet promise to you. Happy First Birthday my little boy. We love you so very much.

Our Beginning: