It was two months ago today my husband and I cuddled and kissed Jack's teeny, tiny body for the last time. We wheeled our first born, adored, sweet little angel down to the Operating Room at SickKids to make the best out of a horrific situation. Jack was going to be an organ donor, his final gift.
I've mentioned before that Jack's liver went to a terminally ill little boy in the United States. Another few months and we can write to them. But what would we write? Take care of that liver, it belonged to a little boy loved more than life itself? Be careful with that liver- it comes from a long line of beer lovers (my husband works for one of the largest in sales and marketing... We joke his grandpa single handedly keeps one of the brands alive...) and is extremely potent? Be grateful for your sweet boy, love the shit out of him, and please be so proud of him no matter what he choses to do in life- we would give anything to have ours back? Your little boy carries a pieces of our hearts in his body?
I'm sure they know all that though. Because until January 9th or 10th, they were looking at a very sick little boy, with little hope in the world he might be saved. What are the chances the right liver, with the right blood type, sizing... the right everything will come in time? I can't even begin to imagine the joy they must have felt when they received the page on the beepers all donors are provided once they are on the list... To be sitting there while the final tests are being conducted, praying so much this is the organ for them, but crying for the family (ours) who had to say goodbye in order for their miracle to take place... To kiss their baby one final time as he was wheeled into the OR for the surgery which will ultimately save his life, but knowing they could lose him in surgery too. Luckily they didn't and the surgery was a success.
To think that family has had 2 months with an increasingly healthy little boy. I've read that the skin colouring of the skin changes very quickly from the jaundiced yellow to the clear, pink skin... How incredible. The idea that parent might gently trace the scar lines with their finger as they change his diapers, and that they likely squeeze their baby tightly every night, thankful for that second chance.. THAT makes my heart swell.
The other little boy, based on my subpar math skills, will be turning 1 soon. Strange how the world works... Two babies born, one baby born sick but lives, one baby born healthy but died. Weird.