I found out the news while going through my Facebook feed. My friends, Adam and Laura had just given birth to a baby boy. They knew that he had Trisomy 18 and the prognosis was not good. They were hoping for some time to hold him and love him before it was time to say goodbye.
The good news is that Adam and Laura and their children got to meet baby Sam and they had two glorious hours with him. The sad news is that they had to say goodbye quickly after meeting him.
I looked at the pictures. There was this gorgeous family with their new addition, pride filling their smiles. There was Laura, looking gorgeous and rested, although I am quite positive she has not had much sleep. There was Adam, whom I’ve been friends with since the seventh grade, holding this tiny baby in his hands, falling in love, sharing his dreams with his new little man.
Then the tears came. Harrison looked up at me and asked, “Momma, are you sad?” I told him I was, and so he climbed up on the couch, away from his bulldozer and his tractor and wrapped his little arms around my neck. He looked me in the eyes, which I later noticed were smeared with mascara, and kissed me. Shortly after, he climbed down and tried to resume play. But, he kept glancing at me, and to be honest, I just couldn’t stop crying. He climbed up again and curled himself in my lap and said, “Are you still sad, Mom?” I told him I was. He then announced that he needed his blanket. I wasn’t surprised, because he uses his blanket to cover any booboos that he has, and there seems to come an instant healing afterward. I knew he knew I was hurting, and he thought I might need some comfort. Once he retrieved it, he wrapped me in it, and said, “This will make you feel better.” To be honest, it did. But then, he caught sight of my phone, where I was still scrolling through pictures of baby Sam and his family. He wanted to see. So I showed him.
I showed him Sam with his sisters. And Sam with his mom and dad. And Sam with his big brother. After that picture, he noted, “Mom, MY baby is bigger than that.” And I giggled because, of course she is. She’s 15 months old. But I looked in his eyes and noticed that he understood something I hadn’t mentioned. He didn’t know that Sam wasn’t here anymore. But he knew. He knew something. He knew there was something different between this baby and his baby. He searched my eyes for an answer, but didn’t ask any questions. I decided it wasn’t quite time to explain. But when it is time, I’ll tell him that Sam is in heaven with our kitty. And I’ll hope to God that that’s enough of an explanation for now, because in all truth, there’s no answer.