Every mothers nightmare

Every mother pushes the thought from her mind. The thought that something could happen to her child. It wakes us from our sleep, we think we would fail to survive it.

Some of us have for whatever reason have to live it. Somehow we do survive it but how much of our soul is still intact isn't always certain.

It started with the vasectomy, kind of strange isn't it? Then the reversal. Then by the grace of God the positive pregnancy test. An uneventful pregnancy, perfect in every aspect until at 36 weeks my water broke.


He was born January 28th 2006 at 2:32am. A petite 4 lbs 14 oz. The next 16 hours were pure exhausted bliss. Until he stopped breathing...

That night we heard the dreaded words that would change our lives. Heart defect. We traveled to one hospital to stabalize him, then another to fix him.

We lived in a Ronald Mcdonald house for over 6 weeks.
Our lives turned on it's nose. Normal became a thing of the past. Our lives were dictated by every breath of a ventilator, every blood test, every ultrasound, CT scan. They say it's a roller coaster. It is. Imagine that feeling as you are going up the track.... the anticipation. Then imagine going over the hill to the first big drop. The track could well derail and hit the ground.... or it could be fine and climb another hill only to drop again. There is no certainty. So many days and nights I would sit in his room, 3 or 4 chairs aligned in a row with doctors and me just sitting there with baited breath waiting for Alex to show us all what to do next.


Alex showed us strength far beyond anyone's comprehention. So many times he pulled through from deaths door. He taught us to live in the moment, because you never know what the next may bring.

Alex showed us patience. He endured so much to stay with us until the moment we were strong enough to live without him.

The day he died changed my already changed world. My children now knew that children die. My husband and I now completely understood the uncertainty and precariousness of life. We learned to take each day as the gift that it is and never let one day go by where you are not happy with the way you lived it. It might be your last.

The day we put his tiny body in the ground made me realize that in an instant, life is over. It's that quick. You live, you die, you are put in the ground, and people walk away. All that really matters is what you do between the day you are born and the day you die. How many lives you touch, how many lives you make better in some tiny way.


So, from that day, March 16, 2006 forward, I have tried and will continue to try to make each day count. I will try to live without regret. I will try to teach others the lessons that my son taught me. I learned more in 6 weeks than I will teach in a lifetime.


Again I invite you to read his caringbridge journal. Few things are more precious to me than that journal. When I need to go back in time all I have to do is read and I am back there, kissing his little head and stroking his taped cheek. Some days the memories are so cloudy that the words in that journal are all I have left of him. That and the basket that sits on my headboard full of his toys.