It's been almost 2 years since Joshua was born. It's been over 2 years since we found out about his heart.
It's been a year and a half since Joshua died.
I still have not been able to go back through the blog posts from my pregnancy, his birth, his life, and his death. I just cannot do it. I'm not sure if I ever will be able to.
Lately, I have been wanting to look through the pictures of Joshua from the first few days just after his surgery at 3 days old. I don't know why, but I wanted to see him how I remembered him. I think part of me wanted to see that maybe, just maybe, what he went through wasn't as bad as I remember.
So, I looked. Not on my blog, but through the albums that I have saved on my computer.
It was dangerous territory for me, threatening to emotionally disable me, but I felt like I needed to. I needed to see him, swollen, chest open, hooked up to tubes and wires.
These pictures are so painful, but I needed to see them. I needed to share them again.
This is what my baby, my 3 day old baby, had to go through to have ANY chance at life.
I grieve at what we put him through. Looking back, I'm not sure if we would do it again. But then, when I think about it, if we didn't try, I would never forgive myself for not trying. He would have died without any intervention at all. There was no chance at life. So, maybe we would have done it all over again. I go 'round and 'round in circles thinking about what we would do over again and what we wouldn't.
So we did this to him.
We did it because we believed for him. We trusted for him. Above all else, we HOPED for him. We held onto hope that he would have life.
I don't like remembering him like this. I don't like to see the glazed look in his eyes. I don't like to see his body swollen, bruised, and open. I don't like to remember the look in his eyes when he would hiccup while his chest was open. I can only imagine how painful his life was.
I don't like remembering him blue. Seconds away from coding. Telling the doctors and nurses that something was wrong, but not finding anything wrong.
But this was part of his life. This is part of who he was. This is part of how he lived, and this is how I have to remember him. No matter how painful.