2nd Birthday Eve
It is the eve of what should be Max's second birthday, and words cannot begin to describe how much we miss him. We should be helping him unwrap his birthday presents, not struggling to pack up his room.
The events of Max's birth are still so very clear in my mind. People had been commenting on how big I was. A stranger at the store had said a few days earlier that I must be due soon. I guess she was right. The night before his arrival Mike and I were watching a movie when my water broke. I was only 31 weeks pregnant at the time, and we thought we knew how serious the situation was. I calmly called the doctor, got dressed, and we drove to the hospital.We stayed calm throughout, and I remember feeling like my life was taken out of my control. There was really no point to panicking, it would do no good or change what was about to happen. Moments before his birth we decided on his name. It was between Matthew and Max, and we chose Max because it sounded tougher and we knew he had a fight ahead of him.
Max was born at 4:48 PM. They took him from me immediately, and all I could see was the back of his head and that beautiful, thick, dark hair. We heard a very tiny cry, and that reassured us. We were so surprised to hear he weighed 4 pounds, 15 ounces. The doctor had predicted he would only be 3-4 pounds. As the doctors continued to work with me I could see the team of doctors and nurses working on Max in the back of the room. One nurse snapped a polaroid picture and brought it to Mike and me so we could see what Max looked like. Before they whisked him off to the NICU they stopped his incubator by me so I could see him in person, and touch his tiny little fingers. He was intubated, and his chest was covered in electrodes. He was beautiful.
It was a few hours before they would let us up to the NICU to see him, and it was over a week before I had the privilege of holding my son. Many of the nurses referred to him as a "big boy." Though he was tiny to us he far out weighed many of his NICU neighbors. His hair also endeared him to many on the staff. We'd come in to see him, and the nurse would say "I couldn't help myself, I gave him a bath and just had to spike that hair up." His hair fell out a few months later, and thinner, lighter hair grew in, only to fall out once again during chemo.
Last year we planned Max's first birthday party knowing that it could be his last. We were to leave for transplant soon after his birthday. For the party we made a poster with a picture of Max from his NICU days and a picture of him at 1 year clapping his hands. The poster stated, "what a difference a year makes." I think about that poster all of the time now. So much can change in a year.
Max entered this world much like he left it - too early and hooked up to too many machines. But unlike his birth, at his death I had the honor of holding him in my arms. Sometimes I think he was taken because I wasn't good enough to have had someone as special as he. Other days I wonder how I got so lucky to have had him for only just a short while. It was a privilege to be his mother.
I have so may birthday wishes for you, sweet Max. I hope you are having the most wonderful party in heaven, joined by your friends who also left this world too soon. I hope they have apple-strawberry-banana baby food, piles and piles of Cheerios, vegetable crackers, breakfast bars, Carnation formula and apple juice. I hope they have a Baby Einstein movie marathon, and your most favorite toys for you to chew. I hope there is a little electronic piano for you to bang on. Grace tells me there is a mom in heaven who takes care of all the babies, and I hope she is letting you hold her fingers as you do lots of laps around the dining room table. I hope she plays clap-clap and sings your favorite songs in your ear (No, No, No, You Are My Sunshine, and the prepositions song). I hope you have someone like your sister to make you laugh. I hope you like the balloons Grace is going to send up to heaven, and the pin wheel she just had to have for your grave. I hope you know how much you are loved by so many people, especially me, Dad and Grace. Happy Birthday beautiful boy.
The events of Max's birth are still so very clear in my mind. People had been commenting on how big I was. A stranger at the store had said a few days earlier that I must be due soon. I guess she was right. The night before his arrival Mike and I were watching a movie when my water broke. I was only 31 weeks pregnant at the time, and we thought we knew how serious the situation was. I calmly called the doctor, got dressed, and we drove to the hospital.We stayed calm throughout, and I remember feeling like my life was taken out of my control. There was really no point to panicking, it would do no good or change what was about to happen. Moments before his birth we decided on his name. It was between Matthew and Max, and we chose Max because it sounded tougher and we knew he had a fight ahead of him.
Max was born at 4:48 PM. They took him from me immediately, and all I could see was the back of his head and that beautiful, thick, dark hair. We heard a very tiny cry, and that reassured us. We were so surprised to hear he weighed 4 pounds, 15 ounces. The doctor had predicted he would only be 3-4 pounds. As the doctors continued to work with me I could see the team of doctors and nurses working on Max in the back of the room. One nurse snapped a polaroid picture and brought it to Mike and me so we could see what Max looked like. Before they whisked him off to the NICU they stopped his incubator by me so I could see him in person, and touch his tiny little fingers. He was intubated, and his chest was covered in electrodes. He was beautiful.
It was a few hours before they would let us up to the NICU to see him, and it was over a week before I had the privilege of holding my son. Many of the nurses referred to him as a "big boy." Though he was tiny to us he far out weighed many of his NICU neighbors. His hair also endeared him to many on the staff. We'd come in to see him, and the nurse would say "I couldn't help myself, I gave him a bath and just had to spike that hair up." His hair fell out a few months later, and thinner, lighter hair grew in, only to fall out once again during chemo.
Last year we planned Max's first birthday party knowing that it could be his last. We were to leave for transplant soon after his birthday. For the party we made a poster with a picture of Max from his NICU days and a picture of him at 1 year clapping his hands. The poster stated, "what a difference a year makes." I think about that poster all of the time now. So much can change in a year.
Max entered this world much like he left it - too early and hooked up to too many machines. But unlike his birth, at his death I had the honor of holding him in my arms. Sometimes I think he was taken because I wasn't good enough to have had someone as special as he. Other days I wonder how I got so lucky to have had him for only just a short while. It was a privilege to be his mother.
I have so may birthday wishes for you, sweet Max. I hope you are having the most wonderful party in heaven, joined by your friends who also left this world too soon. I hope they have apple-strawberry-banana baby food, piles and piles of Cheerios, vegetable crackers, breakfast bars, Carnation formula and apple juice. I hope they have a Baby Einstein movie marathon, and your most favorite toys for you to chew. I hope there is a little electronic piano for you to bang on. Grace tells me there is a mom in heaven who takes care of all the babies, and I hope she is letting you hold her fingers as you do lots of laps around the dining room table. I hope she plays clap-clap and sings your favorite songs in your ear (No, No, No, You Are My Sunshine, and the prepositions song). I hope you have someone like your sister to make you laugh. I hope you like the balloons Grace is going to send up to heaven, and the pin wheel she just had to have for your grave. I hope you know how much you are loved by so many people, especially me, Dad and Grace. Happy Birthday beautiful boy.
posted by Mike Ciacciarelli
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