Reading back through the blog posts I made on his birthday and the 12 days after, I relive each moment, and while it brings up emotions so strong, I am reminded of just how mighty his life was. In those 12 days, Jarrett and I, our children, including Noah we believe, felt all the love and the prayers that were being said for us, especially for him.
I remember looking through the covering in his isolette and seeing just how hard he fought. Moving his tiny arms, and kicking his tiny, but long skinny feet.
I remember feeling such joy in getting to change his diaper, so scary and yet a simple task any mother should get to do for her child. I remember the first time I got to touch him, how having my finger next to him, truly put into perspective just how little he was.
I remember giving him a kiss, my first one, on father's day, oh what a wonderful day that was.
I remember the instant love I felt when I watched as he exited my body and cried a tiny but beautiful cry. I believed, more than anything in that moment, as he was whisked away to the NICU, that he was going to defy the odds. I believed in my heart he was going to live. He had to. He was the miracle that we were told we would never conceive. The miracle that wasn't suppose to survive labor. The miracle that definitely wouldn't cry when he was born. My baby Noah James had arrived a fighter and would prove the naysayers wrong. I felt it in my heart.
And that is what he did. For 12 days we spent as many minutes as we could in the NICU, while believing we had a long journey ahead of us, I returned to work to save time for I knew I was going to be bringing my baby home. I would need time later, when he was bigger, stronger, with lungs ready to run marathons. I believed it.
I also remember the final morning I went to the hospital before things turned. I remember it was almost 5 a.m. and the sun was rising barely over the horizon. The rays of the sunlight shinned directly up, into the clouds and I remember thinking it looked like the gates of Heaven opening. If I had only known.
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| The picture I took on the last morning before Noah' began his journey to Heaven. |
I remember how scary, overwhelming and sad those final hours in the NICU were. How we were told he was leaving us and yet our hearts believed God would intervene and show us again that he was a miracle. He couldn't be leaving us, it just couldn't go this way. I remember going with Jarrett to a family room they reserved for us, while the grandparents kept watch praying at his bedside. We only left for a short time and I believe it was because we felt he was going to stay, and he would want us to get a bit of rest, so we could be there for the long haul. We returned to his side, I whispered continuously to him Mommy loves you Noah. I prayed the The Lord's Prayer and sang How Great Thou Art over and over and over. I felt that God was there with us and I begged him, pleaded with him, promised to do anything, if only he'd let my baby boy stay.
But as only God will understand, there was a different plan. And on the twelfth day it was time for our precious baby to return home to the Lord. We were forced to have to say goodbye, when we felt like we had only just had the chance to say hello. In those final moment's of Noah's life, I told him it was okay to go. That he didn't have to fight anymore. I told him over and over just how much we loved him, how much we would miss him and to send us signs through the rainbow that he was okay. I held him close right up to my chest, no more wires, no more monitors beeping. I wrapped the blanket around him to keep him warm, as I prayed he had no pain. Jarrett stroked his arm and we held our baby in his final moments. And as we said goodbye, we felt peace. I believe I felt my baby leave the comfort of my arms as he was lifted gently into the arms of an angel that carried him home.
I never got to experience what life would have been like to bring my baby boy home from the hospital. I never get to see him take his first steps, or pose for a picture on his first day of kindergarten. Or watch him graduate from high school, get married and become a father. All of those big moments in life, parents dream of experiencing through the eyes of their child. And if I'm being honest, I'll probably grieve the loss of those experiences for the rest of my life.
And as heart breaking as it is that I don't get to tuck my baby into bed each night, I remind myself to be grateful for what I did have and that his life, his legacy; his being brought so much good into this world. While Noah's time here was brief, he was loved by many, prayed for by thousands and honored through kindness.
Yes Noah is the reason why we pour so much of ourselves into Noah's Kindness Project. He is the reason why we strive so hard to give of ourselves, to be the rainbow in someone else's cloud. Noah is the reason why our shirts say... "there is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on the world." Yes, my precious baby is the reason why on October 1, we pray people all across this world feel the kindness we are adding to it. Yes, Noah is the reason why we do it all.
I will never get to watch my precious son grow, but I do get to look around and see all the ways the world becomes a little bit kinder because he lived. And I feel pride, overwhelming love, and happiness again, that it was because of a tiny little boy, born too early, but sent from above with a very important lesson. Yes, the reason why we do it all is because of one little boy... my baby Noah.
Until next time,
Angie
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