Friday, June 8, 2012


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.


Carolyn Watson-Dubisch said...

This post is so sad. We can only make decisions with the pieces of information we have at the time (I tell myself this always, when I think of choices I've made). You did what you could.

Mellow said...

Not only is it a part of his life and who he was...It remains a part of you and your family, forever changed. Holding onto love and life with a greater desperation than you could not have ever imagined. We live and love deeper because of these things that we cannot change. His life, made an impact, and I have to believe that God held him so close that there was little pain, and he knew he was never alone, closely guarded by the One he was created for. No turning back, we do what we thought and felt was right at the time, believing and holding onto hope that we did the right thing. Lots of love to you as you battle these feelings we all go through at some time or another. Lots and Lots of prayers, always.

McEngland like the McCountry said...

Beautifully written, Mellow. I couldn't agree more. That boy knew how lucky and blessed he was that God let you be his mama. He knew/knows how desperately you love him. Joshua was meant for better things than this world. I just wish that the side effect of aforementioned greatness wasn't so heartbreakingly painful for the loved ones he left behind.

Auntie M said...

Oh! So beautifully said, Mellow!!!
"We live and love deeper because of these things that we cannot change."

Auntie M said...

I am probably totally going to botch what I'm going to try to say here...but I'll try...

I cannot imagine how painful it must have been as a parent to see your little one go through so much in such a short period of time.

But I also can't imagine you trading in any of those precious days with your precious boy...because you had to give him a chance at

You know, Jill, when I saw that first picture of Joshua posted above, I thought, "oh poor lil honey & his poor parents...but..." (pause as I scrolled down to the 3rd picture where it was not the chest opening that stood out)..."...but Oh My Goodness! He has Caleb & Luke's nose! And Hannah's mouth!"

Yes, what he went through I don't want any child to go through. And what you went through, I don't want any parent to go through...but to miss out on knowing him? Unimaginable! Don't second guess yourself...You gave him and yourselves a great gift of time together (sure, maybe not the "quality" time you would have wanted) but time nonetheless.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, in those painful pictures, I can look past the tubes, the blood, the bandages, the Pulse Ox, his grogginess--and I see FAMILY written all over him and it's just precious!

I love this quote by Washington Irving:
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a sign of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love."

Of course you grieve overwhelmingly--when you've carried a love that is indescribable.

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