How do we say goodbye when we never get to say hello? But that is our task today: to say goodbye.
This past week we have been in the practice of capturing a lifetime of memories. We have had seven days to pack 25,000. The 179 hours since the arrival of Nathanael, lifeless, have changed our lives forever; probably in some way that many of you will never know. We stand in solidarity with many of you who have endured what we are currently experiencing: the death of your own child.
Creating memories on a schedule is hard work. We had to be creative. I just wish I could somehow register how he smells, the texture of his skin, his weight while holding him, his cute little features.
On Monday I lay down on the floor of the hospital room and slept with Nathanael snuggled in my arms. I have kissed his face hundreds of times, but that will be far less than how much I have kissed the faces of my other children. Even though there were endless interruptions from the midwives doing obs., Administering medications, changing the droppers, etc., between the doctors and thousands of health professionals who visited us, we still had many opportunities to bond with our son. the best we could. But then, as death reminds us, there is never enough time. There is never enough time.
A week is too fast, but it is much longer than my mother and father got when my little sister, Debra Leanne, was stillborn on September 21, 1973. Sarah and I honor you for the circumstances of your loss 41 years ago. And the pain that you’ve carried with you all these years Is sacred. Things have come a long way since then, but we have learned this week that there is still a long way to go to get parents the respect their babies deserve, especially in the case of a baby known to have special needs and an extremely poor prognosis. bad. for life.
Time has slipped away and we have what we have: the knowledge that we are not wasting our time. As I looked at her face, her cleft lip, her button nose, her closed eyes, and her peaceful face, my eyes filled with tears. She would pray. She watched Sarah melt into tears and moan as only a mother could understand and comprehend. Sarah’s strength through all of this has been something I have marveled at. I don’t think I know a stronger person than her.
Nathanael’s spirit has gone to dwell in Jesus and now we say goodbye to his tent.
All we will have to show you are some photos, some souvenirs, and some clothing. It seems that we have known him for more than 30 weeks that we have known him. Most of that time, eighteen of those weeks, we’ve been sitting on a time bomb. And many of you have faithfully followed us on our journey. We appreciate.
Nathanael Marcus is our brilliant gift from God. He shines in the sky as we speak. He sits at the feet of Jesus. It is in the hands of the Father. His protection is Divine. Its purpose is the glory of God.
However, we miss him so much!
© 2014 SJ Wickham.