This evening I was putting my youngest down for bed. Since I’ve been home from Toronto, he’s needed me to rock him to sleep again. Being only 2 years old, all he knew is that I was suddenly gone. And now I’m home, so he’s clinging to me like a life preserver.
As I was rocking him, I found out that Killian’s across the hall neighbour at Sick Kids passed tonight. She was also waiting for a heart transplant. She was 8 months old. She had gone in for a surgery to repair something to help her on her path to transplant. Once out of surgery she was doing well, very well. And suddenly she wasn’t. At 5 she was ok. At 6 she was gone.
My heart is shattered. Its exactly like Killian’s story. How do you wrap your head around it. As a parent, how do you keep breathing and living life when your baby takes his or her last breath and there’s nothing you can do to change it.
I know the indescribable pain that her sweet parents are going through right now. All I want to do is hug them tight. To try and give them a little more strength to hold them up, when everything in them wants to fall down.
I feel sorry for myself to, in a selfish way. I don’t want to know how they feel. I don’t want to feel the pain with them. I’m tired of feeling it.
This club is awful. It’s cruel and it’s dark and it’s scary. No one wants in and there’s no way out. But the moms and dads in this club are the strongest of the strong. The support in this group is the strongest you’ll ever find.
Keep this sweet family in your hearts. Tonight their entire world was been turned upside down.
Go into your children’s rooms and kiss them, tell their sweet sleeping ears that you love them more than life itself. I’m still sitting with my baby. I’m thinking about my Killian and I hope he is with his newest warrior.