Friday, December 18, 2009

an excerpt from my letter to dr caldarone, on the day before the 3rd anniversary of asher's hybrid

Believe it or not, i’m actually at a loss for words now. I mean, really, how do you thank the person who has given you your child back, over and over again? This letter is the most difficult thing i’ve ever written. It might be easier if it weren’t so personal. I could just send you a little note that says, “thanks for everything” and leave it at that. But gah! There’s nothing i could give you, nothing i could do or say that would even come close to the gratitude i feel when i think of you. I should only have two children anymore. Instead, i have three. Still. And yes, i recognize that asher has a lot to do with his survival, and since i believe in God, i believe that He plays a big role in it, too. But really, asher could never have lived without the shunts and bands and plastes and reconstruction and diverted bloodflow. And God knows i don’t ever want to know what goes on in the OR (i’ve seen the inside of a cath lab, and i’ve been in Interventional Radiology, and i’ve pinned asher down for countless IVs, but the OR... shudder!). all i need to know is that, in that room, you give a little person a chance to live. To grow. To play. To imagine. To love. To cuddle. To build. To dream. To smile. To laugh. To run. And jump. And sing. And dance. To hold on to his little green dinosaur and Thomas trains and hot wheels and stuffed animals every minute of the day. To hold my hand. To hug me. to wink at me (a work in progress), and give me the best kissies ever. This child of mine is a miracle.

But so are you. You’re the greatest gift our family has ever received (other than asher himself). I have a couple pictures from his first week, and there’s no scar. It’s just so strange to see. Sometimes, when i’m getting him ready for bed, i see his zipper, and hug him a little tighter... because i can. And sometimes i forget about his zipper. And that is even better. Because it means that asher is a normal kid. Happy, playful, energetic, stubborn, a little spoiled, affectionate. he doesn’t always want to share his toys. Yesterday, a little boy he was playing with, whom he had never met before, was crying. Asher went over to him, put his arm around him, told him “it be ok, it be ok” and hugged him. i wish you could see just how beautiful my son really is. I wish i could bottle a little bit of his light and send it to you, so you could experience it and understand. Because without you, none of this would have ever happened. I wouldn’t hear him upstairs right now, yelling at his brother (sigh). I wouldn’t have put mitts on his hands before we walked his sister to the school bus this morning. I wouldn’t have gotten him a drink of water at midnight when he woke up last night. I wouldn’t have made him grilled cheese the other day for lunch. There would be no birthday parties, no curly blond rat’s nest to comb through (and wow! His hair is CRAZY!). i wouldn’t have fallen asleep with him on Monday afternoon.

So, thank-you.

I don’t really know what else to say, but believe me when i say that i mean it, truly, from the bottom of my heart.



Hope's Blog said...

That is a really great letter and I am sure his doctor will appreciate it. I just finished one myself to Hope's surgeon and yours is so much better.

Have a wonderful holiday!

Tanna said...

thanks for making me cry

Heather said...

you're welcome. ;)