Some, I am able to move without a thought of the aches.
This is our story, and we are writing it.
I have to remind myself of that for many reasons.
When something so helpless happens, that you have no control over... When you watch the ventilator be removed from your son and suddenly remember that his nurse forgot to suction him, like you had planned... and you hear him choke on flem... and you cry out "We forgot to suction him!" and look at the nurse... expecting her to come running... but then you see the look on her face.
She's looking at you with a look you have never seen before.
The end of Gabe's story on earth was happening, and there was no reason to suction. He was suffocating, he couldn't breathe on his own, and it didn't matter how clear his airway was... he was going to die.
I felt so helpless, looking at her, pleading with my eyes for her to come and suction him- thinking that... maybe he would be okay? I don't know precisely what I was thinking.
I wish it would have been longer. I wish he would have breathed on his own for a while, but it would only draw out the final pages of his book to say that I wish it was never. I wish it was never.
Gabe's pages were filled with every feeling I have ever felt, the whole spectrum.
Love, pain, fear, hate, hope, violence, purity, passion, honesty, brutality, lies, fight... Fighting.
If I had written the story of Gabe's life, it would have ended quite differently.
Gabe and I would be outside now, playing together in the dirt, learning about grass and sign language and just smiling at each other. We would be home together, with Judah and Nick, and we wouldn't be starting over from what felt like scratch... because we would have won.
But we lost the battle we were fighting... though we won the ultimate battle- we lost the battle we wagered one year ago in Seattle.
I will tell you one thing, having a baby... Meeting them for the first time, is the most beautiful- undeserved beautiful feeling in the world. The whole world stops for a moment because something incredible has happened. A life has been born that has impacted someone so much that it completely alters the chemicals in their mind.
I suppose that's why we would die for our children. Because their lives have such a profound impact from that first moment... before that first moment, really.
I dreamt of Gabe last night. Well, it wasn't Gabe, really.
It was a strange, sci-fi like dream... Where somehow Gabe had been copied and made to live again out of clay- but it looked like Gabe, played like Gabe, sat like Gabe... but it wasn't him.
At the end of the day, I had to make a choice. To keep the baby who looked like Gabe, or to let him go.
I pushed a button that said 'nevermind', but not before I had spent the whole day trying to decide if I could love this little one like I had loved Gabe.
Strange dream, yet again (common in my world)... but I woke up and wished to hold even the fake Gabe for a moment.
The final pages of Gabe's book look like this to me.
Gabe is laying on a bed at the Devon Nicole House in Boston. Judah is sitting next to him, smiling at his baby and asking to hold him. I put them up together and I tell Nick "take some pictures of them!" while I make sure that Judah is careful.
He does so, and then I take my sweet baby in my arms and lay him on my chest.
It was the last time I would do so- but I didn't know that.
It was the last time I would feel him breathe on his own accord, but I was unaware.
It was the last day I would see his smile.
And I wish so badly I had known then, so I could have sucked those moments in more deeply.
I wish I hadn't ever set him down, at times.
Today is the last day I will post on this blog.
The four of us, our adventures have ended for now.
New adventures will arise in new ways, but the grand adventure has ended for the moment.
I'm sorry I didn't hold you a little longer, Gabe.
See you, someday, my sweetest friend.
And we can have adventures in Heaven.