October 22, 2007
I was a little anxious to see Gavin this morning as I just didn't know how I would handle it if he seemed to be in pain from his surgery or still struggling to breathe. I went in on my own to see him while Lindsay went in to pump. As I approached the bed he opened his eyes and for the next 15 minutes our faces were 10 inches apart and totally focused on each other. I talked with him and told him how distressing it was to all of us to hear that he'd been in pain and struggling to breathe. And once again his eyes said it all. Is it so easy to forget the peace that we feel when we are able to connect with his eyes. He was as alert and bright eyed as last week when he was feeling good. And I think if his eyes could have spoken they would have told me to try harder to remember how we feel when we are able to connect with his eyes. I know it was a gift for me to have those few minutes with him. His nurse asked me a question and I turned my head to answer her. When I turned back to Gavin he was fast asleep and stayed that way for the rest of the day. So I will try harder to remember how it feels when he looks at me. And I will try harder to have the trust and the faith to know that even on a bad day, things will still work out for him.
I loved reading this excerpt today. It reminded me of the beautiful blessings and tender mercies we were given at this time last year. This week begins a painful walk down memory lane for us. However, experiences like the one my mother wrote about were so abundant during the last few days we had with Gavin here on earth. His eyes brought us comfort. The moments that Gavin was alert and focused were few and far in between, but it was during those moments that we all saw a glimpse of heaven. I am convinced that Gavin communicated, when he could, through his eyes. Looking into his alert, bright, blue eyes gave a peace that I have yet to find again - no matter where I search for it. How blessed and fortunate we were to have these moments with Gavin where he let us know that he would be okay. I remember the recurring thought I had during those trying three months "It won't be as bad as you think it will." While what we have had to do and what we will continue to do for the rest of our lives isn't easy - I do know that this is better than watching my beautiful son struggle like he was at this time last year. I hurt because I miss him but, I know he doesn't have to hurt any more. I am so grateful my mother wrote about this experience so we can go back and remember the peace and comfort we found through a three month old little boy who had more wisdom than we did.
Eyes truly are the window to one's soul . . . this picture is proof.
Aren't my two boys so handsome together?!