we awoke with the news:
you better get over here soon.
it was only the fourth day we had been in alexandria, louisiana. i went to bed the night before actually feeling quite hopeful. we had visited our cajun cutie that evening and were given miraculous news - his white blood cells were increasing at a rapid rate. for the first time since we arrived i actually felt like maybe he would get better. maybe we would be able to take him home.
no. we would not. and we knew it the moment we got that phone call.
we got ready to go in silence. there was nothing to say.
down the hotel elevator. silence.
the five minute drive to the hospital. silence.
we knew.
down the hotel elevator. silence.
the five minute drive to the hospital. silence.
we knew.
in the wee morning of january 6th, 2014 we entered baby boy isaac's room to a host of people gathered around his bed. his tiny, tiny five pound body laying lifeless. the nurses were doing chest compressions and providing oxygen. but he was clearly gone.
no human is supposed to witness what we were witnessing. it was, by far, the most traumatic thing i ever had to watch, and endure.
the reason they were keeping him alive was for us and for his birth mother - to say good-bye.
i wanted to scream, "JUST STOP!!!! LET HIM GO!!!!"
but we waited. it was not my call to make.
it felt like forever when ms. isaac finally arrived. i recognized the look on her face immediately. complete and utter shock. insurmountable fear.
in that moment, my mother instincts took over. for her.
i held her. i held her while she held him. i cried because she cried.
i held her. i held her while she held him. i cried because she cried.
i knew the realm of pain she was feeling. a child she carried and bore. flesh of her flesh. i knew.
she had no one there with her. no shoulder to lean on. no support. we were her support. we helped her make the awful, after death decisions that no one should even remotely have to think about.
we sat with her.
and then we drove away and never returned. only keeping in touch with her via text a few times a year.
it's almost impossible for me to reconcile in my mind - why?
why us? why did she pick us? of all the couples?
why did he die? of all the babies to adopt? why him?
was it worth it?
i don't know. it's too painful to think about.
(*and you can leave your "God's plans" theories to yourself. please and thank you.)
this last month has really been the first time i've allowed myself to process what happened. when baby boy isaac died, i was pregnant with miles. and, in order to survive, in order for me not to go completely insane that TWO babies who were supposed to mine, were not with me - i had to believe miles was going to be okay. he had to be. that was one of the sweetest gifts baby isaac gave me. the gift of believing and hoping miles would be okay. i can't explain why. it's a mystery.
there was a shift in my mind that day.
baby boy isaac's short life brought many gifts, most of which i still don't even know or will ever be aware of until heaven.
what i am most proud of, however, is that hundreds of people know and love our sweet boy because john and i took the unbelievably fearful, nonsensical, yet hopeful, step out and opened our hearts and home to welcome him into our family.
and you opened your hearts up to receive him too. thank you.
because of that, a little, little babe born in a tiny town, alive for only five short days is known.
he's remembered. he's wanted. he's loved. he's part of a family.
he's part of eternal significance.
and i can't wait to see him again. big ears and all.
she had no one there with her. no shoulder to lean on. no support. we were her support. we helped her make the awful, after death decisions that no one should even remotely have to think about.
we sat with her.
and then we drove away and never returned. only keeping in touch with her via text a few times a year.
it's almost impossible for me to reconcile in my mind - why?
why us? why did she pick us? of all the couples?
why did he die? of all the babies to adopt? why him?
was it worth it?
i don't know. it's too painful to think about.
(*and you can leave your "God's plans" theories to yourself. please and thank you.)
this last month has really been the first time i've allowed myself to process what happened. when baby boy isaac died, i was pregnant with miles. and, in order to survive, in order for me not to go completely insane that TWO babies who were supposed to mine, were not with me - i had to believe miles was going to be okay. he had to be. that was one of the sweetest gifts baby isaac gave me. the gift of believing and hoping miles would be okay. i can't explain why. it's a mystery.
there was a shift in my mind that day.
baby boy isaac's short life brought many gifts, most of which i still don't even know or will ever be aware of until heaven.
what i am most proud of, however, is that hundreds of people know and love our sweet boy because john and i took the unbelievably fearful, nonsensical, yet hopeful, step out and opened our hearts and home to welcome him into our family.
and you opened your hearts up to receive him too. thank you.
because of that, a little, little babe born in a tiny town, alive for only five short days is known.
he's remembered. he's wanted. he's loved. he's part of a family.
he's part of eternal significance.
and i can't wait to see him again. big ears and all.
"a single thread in a tapestry, though its color brightly shines
can never see its purpose, in the pattern of the grand design"
Joh'Wayne Kameron Kahlil Isaac
1/2/2014 - 1/6/2014
Baby Isaac was greatly loved during his short sojourn here. Bless him and bless you and John.
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