The Last Time I Held You
Twelve years ago today, I held my son for the last time. My precious boy only was with us for 22 days. I hardly held him throughout his life because he was hooked up to machines most of the time. He had a rare congenital heart defect called TAPVR. He had major heart surgery at seven days old, and never was able to come off of the ECMO machine. It was horrendous. I fell to my knees when I saw him after the surgery.
For the next two weeks, I sat next to his bed and held his tiny hands and rubbed his little feet. I sang him songs and rubbed his fuzzy little head. He was beautiful. The eyes of someone much wiser than me. I stared into those tiny, soulful eyes and cried, begging God to let my son live…. But it was not meant to be.
I was baptized at his bedside by the chaplain at the hospital. He held my finger the entire time. As she was praying over me, he lifted my hand up with all of his might. I truly believe that one of his many purposes was to have me become baptized. I cannot explain how he had the strength to lift my hand, and I feel it was a sign from God. I will always hold that moment close to my heart.
I will never forget having to leave his tiny body laying on that big bed as I left the hospital for the last time. I looked up at the light shining in his window as we pulled out of the parking lot on that cold winter night. My baby was gone. He had never gotten to sleep in his crib at home. Always connected to wires and tubes. And now, my baby was set free. He went from my arms to the arms of the Lord.
My heart breaks every day for you, Alex, but one day we will be together again. I will hold you and never let go.
I will love you always and forever <3
To read more about my son’s story, please read: Baby Alex, Forever In Our Hearts.
Image Courtesy of Serge Bertasius at FreeDigitalPhotos.net