Harrison, my perfect son, was born On November 11, 2017. For the most part, he looked like his father, but he did have my crooked pinky toes, which informed me that my toes are not from years of wearing absurd high heels, but just me. See his adorable toes. They were perfect for kissing. He also had a beautiful head of blond hair. Unfortunately, right at birth it was clear that there was something very wrong with Harrison, and we lost him on November 16, 2017. I won't get into details because those details are both private and sad, and believe it or not, this post is not meant to be sad.For the purpose of this posting, it is important to note that I had a perfectly healthy pregnancy. After extensive testing and treatment done at DC Childrens', the best the doctors could figure is that something happened between week 36 and 37. This is no disparagement of the doctors' knowledge. The team was amazing. Every doctor, nurse, social worker and employee there is an angel on earth. There just simply is no answer. There is no way we will ever no what happened, and there is nothing that I could have done to prevent whatever happened. I learned this happens in about 2 out of every 1,000 pregnancies. I head phrases like "lightning striking" and "one in a million." I can never describe how horrific cliches like that are when you are hearing them referencing your child in this type of situation.
All of that background is to emphatically drive home that life is fleeting. Everyone says that, and deep down we all know it, but I think we forget how unexpected things that can happen. Maybe that is for the best. I don't know. I am not a psychologist. I am also not an expert on loss, but from what I have gathered encountering it more times than I believe one should have to by my age, loss is so painful because life is so wonderful.
When you lose someone, you mourn their absence; however, I think for me (and for many), I also mourn that they no longer get to enjoy all the amazing things the world has to offer. Everyone has experienced something where they wish someone they cared about could also be there to enjoy the moment (whether that person you want there is living or not). That is because when you love someone, or even like them, you want them to enjoy all of the joys that life has to offer.
You are mourning not only the loss of someone in your life, but all the experiences that they will miss going forward. In the case of a newborn child what they will never experience is vast and tremendous. And at times, soul crushing. You spend months leading up to your child's birth imagining what your child will experience, especially when it appears that all is healthy and good to go. You envision everything from Halloween costumes and the first time eating cake, to what they will be when they grow up. Again, it is crushing. But it would not be so crushing, but for all of those wonderful things that life offers the living.
Contrary to what news would lead you to believe, this world is a fantastic place filled with fantastic people. I can think of numerous things that put a smile on my face that don't make the news: 1. Thin mints in the freezer; 2. Happy couples snuggling on the couch; 3. S'mores; 4. Friends spending all day at a winery catching up; 5. The beach; 6. Traveling new places; 7. Traveling home; 8. Sunsets; 9. Sunrises (though I see far less of those); 10. Fun workout pants; 11. The smell of fresh cut grass; 12. The smell of newborn babies; 13. Hearing someone with an infectious laugh. The list of the little and big things that make me and everyone else happy on a daily basis is endless. That is because the world is full of so many good things. The world is undeniably a beautiful, enjoyable, kind and hopeful place.
I remember sitting in hospice with my father when he only had a few hours left. My mom had to step out to go do something and the nurse came in and spoke to me. She asked if my dad had any unfinished business, or any regrets. I confidently said no. She asked me how old I was, and I told her that I was 29, although anyone who has had a sick parent knows that your age doesn't matter. You are always a child when it comes to them. The nurse told me that I was too young to understand how fortunate my dad was to be in that position. And that is true. Four years later, and I am still probably far too young. But what I do think I know is my dad was in that position because he savored everyday. He did not hesitate to experience new things. He saw, ate, or did whatever he wanted to do. Not in a gluttonous way, but in a way where he profoundly understood that life was not permanent. One of his friends approached me after shortly after my dad received his cancer diagnoses, and the friend told me my father had said that no matter what happened, he had lived an amazing life. And he did live an amazing life, but it wasn't a passive coincidence, it was an active choice. He always had a smile on his face by choice.
I think about this and I think about the loss of my son, and I ponder how these experiences have and continue to shape me. I have concluded that each day we are surviving, and I don't mean that in the sad way. I mean that in the most beautiful way. Every day that we are here, we have managed to escape the perils that make life so painfully short. I think the most important thing that I have learned in my life is that you should make an active choice to celebrate surviving every day. And I don't mean throwing yourself a personal party everyday and going into credit card debt buying yachts. I'm not insane.
I mean truly appreciating that you made it because everyday is such a gift that not everyone gets. Everyday is an opportunity to watch a sunset, look at the stars, hug someone you love, eat thin mints out of the freezer, or do countless other things that make you happy. For me, it is savoring time with my amazing friends, family and husband. I also will continue to make a point to travel to see as much as I can of this wonderful world in however many more trips I get around the sun. I will also continue to blog about exercise, eat too many baked goods, enjoy fresh air and try to take in every new experience that I can.
I have no recommendation on how you decide to celebrate surviving everyday, but please do so. If not for yourself because that just isn't you, then please do it for someone else who is no longer here. You are free to do it for my son. For all those memories he will not make and experiences he will not have, I intend on doubling down on the memories I make and the experiences that I have in order to honor him. That is how I can continue to take care of him as his mom and celebrate surviving another day.
