June 26, 1984 was the day my son, Matthew, was born.
I was happy, so happy. I had successfully delivered him V-BAC which at that point in my life mattered to me. He was a boy, at that point in my life gender of a baby seemed significant. I made triumphant phone calls and even ordered breakfast.
Then my pediatrician came to see me. All she said was, "Matthew has a heart murmur." But I knew. We communicated at a molecular level.
June 30, 1984 was the day my son, Matthew, died.
In between time he was switched to U of Chicago and then Children's Memorial where he didn't survive the heart surgery. I still have the hand written laundry list of all that was wrong with his tiny heart.
Who am I?
I am a person who values every single human life and every baby.
I am a person who knows what is important in life.
I am a person who hopes for the best but still fears the worst.
I am a woman who knows you can never predict who will die nor when.
I am a woman who loves other women and the families they have built.
I am a woman who knows that genetic bonds are nothing, they are not what constitutes family.
I am a wife whose only fear about her husband is that he won't let her die first.
I am a Mom whose love for all my children is organic, fierce and the essence of who I am.
I am a Grandma whose joy and pleasure in my granddaughter is overboard. Way beyond overboard.
I am a human being that knows that our connection to other human beings is what make us happy and fulfilled.
Why am I all of this?
Because I was and am a Mom to all of my children but today, I am mainly Matthew's Mom.
Happy birthday dear son of mine. I love you still and always.
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I have written about the experience of losing a child before.