Courage

Almost 4 years ago Greyson was born. When he came into this world far too early and we set up house in the Northside NICU, the great people at PPP (Parents Partnered for Preemies) gave us a little gift basket. Included were some hand-made preemie clothes, a small doll, and a camera. The camera was suppose to be for the nurses to take pictures of cute things that Greyson did when we weren't there and as he changed isolettes and nurses the camera followed.

One August afternoon I went to the hospital alone and sat by his isolette. I don't know what it was, perhaps mother's intuition or just the feelings that I couldn't keep back anymore but when Sunny, our nurse, asked me if I was OK I said no and began to weep. She asked again what was wrong and I told her that I was afraid that Greyson was going to die. She sat with me for a long time and just let me cry. When I had let it all out she got Greyson out of the isolette and told me to hold him and to love him. She got the camera out and took our picture and then let us be. I held him for the longest time and I can still remember the way he smelled and felt in my arms. I tried so hard to burn his image/that moment into my mind.

That night at 3AM the phone rang. It was the hospital calling to tell us the Greyson had NEC and was more than likely not going to make it. The images of that night and the next few days still haunt me. I wake up nights with memories of seeing him in that hospital with more nurses and doctors and tubes in him than you can imagine.

We were then transferred to Scottish Rite and Greyson's little basket followed him there. We finished off that roll of film with happier pictures - the first time we got to hold him after surgery, the first time we got to play with him on the floor. But when it came time to actually develop the film I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to relive that day and that night again. So the camera sat. When we moved to Nashville it rode in the car with me along with our most prized possessions. I put it in our desk upstairs and have looked at it every day for the past 4 years. I have tried so many times to take it in and I have found excuse after excuse not to. People say that time heals all wounds - well to me, that night and the outcome that for all intents should have happened is still as fresh to me as if it happened yesterday.

But today something changed - I can't tell you what or why. I took it in and got it developed. I stared at the envelope of pictures a long time in my car before opening up and cried for a good while after I did. How a picture can scare you so much I don't quite understand.

Maybe this is my first step in letting go a little. After all, I have a happy, healthy almost 4 year old who no one can tell is any different than any other kid around, except for his scar across his abdomen.

There is another old addage - you never know what you have til its gone. While we didn't lose Greyson we came closer than anyone ever should. I now know what I have and perhaps when I get frustrated because he doesn't listen or spills the milk this picture will remind me of what really is important.