Passing over my baby boy to the nurse ready to take him to his life saving, open-heart surgery. Not knowing if I would ever have him look at me again. Hoping we had made the right choice. Praying we had - as this was his only chance. Taking comfort in the words of the Anesthesiologist “I will hold and sing to him as he goes to sleep”. Knowing that in these possible last moments he will feel loved.
And now Valentine’s Day 2008.
He lives by his heart. Not merely by the fact that it beats strong and true. But that it dictates how he approaches everyone and everything. If only I could love anybody the way he loves everybody. He’s able to look into your eyes and glimpse your soul. He struggles to talk and yet is a great communicator. He’s able to earn a smirk out of even the sternest of faces. I often stand back and watch this little fella, who might not have been, affect more lives than I, or any one else I know, ever has. Effortlessly. Uniquely. I thank God for the gift he has given me and I know that somehow this little boy born with a broken heart has fixed mine.
