The day we said goodbye was without a doubt the hardest day of my life. From the moment they told me you were gone, I knew that goodbye was a moment that I would have to face. On the day you were born, I pushed the thought of it out of my mind for as long as I could. I wanted every moment I spent with you up until goodbye to be as happy as it could be.
The day we said goodbye, you looked even more peaceful and beautiful than you had the night before. I held you in my arms and drew you close to me as I rocked you. I kissed your forehead. I stroked your cheek and memorized every detail of your face. You looked so much like your daddy, and you would have grown to be handsome just like him. Just a few days after we left the hospital, a moment came that I will never forget. I was sitting in the rocker in your nursery when your daddy came into the doorway and stood there. I have no idea what we were talking about, but at some point in the conversation, a smile crept across his face. In that instant, I knew that you would have had your daddy's smile. It was a moment that completely took my breath away. As long as your daddy can still smile, I will have a little piece of you here with me.
The day we said goodbye, I held you, spoke to you, and sang to you. The words that I said to you and the song that I sang will stay locked inside my heart, a secret shared by only you, your daddy and me. It was an extraordinary moment in my life, one for which my words could never come close to doing justice, and so it will stay just a memory.
I could have sat there with you for a lifetime and been content, but for some reason Morris, we weren't meant to have a lifetime. When the time came, I gave you over to your daddy and told him that I was going to slip into the bathroom. I know how unfair it was to ask him to face that moment alone, but I needed our last memory to be a good one. I couldn't bear the thought of watching the nurse take you down the hall knowing that I would never see you again. I don't know how many final kissses I gave you while you were in your daddy's arms, but a moment came when I knew that I had to let you go. I gave you one more kiss, then turned and walked into the bathroom.
Later, your daddy told me that in the exact moment I turned away, a tear escaped from the corner of your eye and rolled all the way down your check before he wiped it away. I know that doctors would tell us that it wasn't really a tear, and they would have some logical explanation for why it happened, but I don't care. I know that it was real. It was the only tear that you will ever cry, a beautiful gift that God let you give to mommy. In the days following, when the pain of letting you go was unbearable and when my heart and arms ached to hold you again, that tear kept me from driving to the funeral home and begging them to give you to me. That tear kept me from ruining the memory of our perfect goodbye.
As your daddy was about to head out the door and give you to the nurse, our midwife Mary came into the room. She asked if she could hold you, and she sat and rocked you with tears streaming down her face. There are no words that will ever describe how grateful I was in that moment to know that you were loved by the person that helped to deliver you into the world. It was and still is breathtaking to me. Your daddy came into the bathroom to hold me, and as we cried, Mary quietly slipped out of the room with you. She saved your daddy's goodbye, and now his last memory with you is a perfect one too. It is a debt that I will never be able to repay her, but one that I hope that God repays on my behalf one day.
Leaving the hospital without you felt so surreal. They wheeled me down the hall, onto the elevator, and into the lobby with a little satin box filled with your footprints, handprints, and lock of hair on my lap instead of you. For the first time since Monday morning, your daddy left my side to get the car. I sat there overwhelmed with emotion. When we got in the car, I sobbed and wondered how on earth we could ever leave the hospital with you still inside. Your daddy gently reminded me that we weren't leaving you there, we were only leaving your body. You were already in heaven...already my beautiful angel.
That day we said goodbye, but it was only goodbye for a little while. I am dreaming of and waiting for the day we will say hello again forever.
Love,
Mommy
No comments:
Post a Comment