Life takes a tumble...
In 1988, I moved from Oregon to Arizona and married my daughter's dad. He had a gorgeous four year old daughter, "Nif" who had long, golden hair and bright blue eyes. She was my "first child" and I became a mom! The mini-goddess was born in 1993 and Nif was a fabulous big sis. Sadly, the marraige part of our family started crumbling even before it began and tramatically and painfully fell apart over the course of 12 years.
When the mini-goddess and I moved to Oregon in 2001, Nif stayed behind to finish high school and stay with her dad's family. Nif and I were somewhat estranged due to conflicts between the adults involved. I think we both knew that we were just taking a break until the waters settled.
This last Thanksgiving, Nif and I reconnected through long phone calls. She had moved to Phoenix, got married and was pregnant with her first child. What a wonderful time to reconnect! The mini goddess, now "Auntie" and I, "Grammy" went into baby clothes mode and prepared gifts and love for this new baby boy. All went well during the pregnancy and our sweet boy was born into this world on April 18 around midnight, through a long, long labor, ending in a ceasarian section. Oh, the joy!
Born not breathing, he was treated and air-vacced to Phoenix Children's Hospital with many complications. Over the weeks, my sweet Nif has waited in agony, first to hold her son for the first time and then to see what the prognosis would be. This Monday, the doctors were ready to tell her that our sweet boy has only brain stem capacity, meaning that he only has basic feeding and movement and will probably not have any further brain development! Oh, the pain!
Now, our sweet Nif will make decisions that no mother should have to make, such as taking him home (not to, was never an option in her mind), how to care for him, what to hope and pray for and ultimately, how to move on, should that day come.
What to tell her? Well, I tell her that even though the doctors say that clinically, he will not recognize her, that her touch is vital to his soul and that he will know on some level that his mother is near. I tell her that he is our bright, shining boy for the time that he is with us. I tell her to "stand in the light"! Some days, that is all we can hope for as our lives take a tumble from which we cannot imagine recovering!