I wish I could tell you am holding a two week old little boy in my arms. But I am not and I can not.
Instead, I hold a tiny teddy bear with a yellow bow tie, and a green organ donation ribbon pinned to it's chest. The bear was a gift from the NICU staff at Sick Kids, given to Jack to hold into while awaiting the organ donation last Tuesday (January 11th). We've since nicknamed him "JackBear" and he sleeps in our bed. Actually, to be honest, my husband clutches him until he falls asleep and I generally find him nestled between sheets and blankets and rescue him to to sleep in my cleavage, all save and sound until morning.
Today, I am feeling sad. A lovely group of friends of mine from work named a star in Jack's honour and it was delivered to the house this morning. Such a thoughtful gift, and I have to wonder whether they knew that his baby shower theme was "A Star is Born", and how I used to receit the words, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Do you know how loved you are?" while I was pregnant with him- before I knew it was a "he" even. I wonder whether they know I say Twinkle Twinkle to him most nights including our final night with him when I stayed up all night holding him and singing to him and playing songs to him. Or how the song that will forever be "Jack's Song" is "Somewhere Out There".
I'm not sad because of the gift- it was extraordinarily generous. I'm sad because I still can't help but wish things were different, and that we were still receiving congratulatory e-mails/cards/gifts rather than these same things in remembrance.
The outfit he worn the night before I took him to the lactation clinic is starting to lose it's scent. It didn't smell of much to begin with, except he smelt of Burt's Bees Body and Hair Wash, and of sweat in his neckline because I woke up that Thursday morning sticking to him. I still believe it was me that was hot, not him, because he was not fussing. But that's a story for another day.