I cannot quite articulate the emotion this picture conjures up in me except that it is a visual representation of my worst fear. my worst nightmare.
This baby boy in the picture is 5 months old. Not 4. Not 6. FIVE. Jackson is 5 months old. I cannot look at this and not somehow super-impose my baby’s soft blonde hair. I cannot not put myself along that freeway doing asphalt CPR. All I see is human fragility, namely my son’s mortality. It sends shivers down my spine.
None of us understand God’s plan. No one can explain to me why God might want to take this little boy. And, blessingly, give him back. I remember the first time I saw someone “brought back” in my nursing career… and I remember the humbling experience it is to realize that sometimes God lets the people keep their person. I also remember the first code I watched that did not end in life. That day, God took the person. God gets to choose.
All I know is last night I hugged my baby tighter. I took a Jackson-momma bath with him. I nursed him well beyond a milk coma and just smelled his hair, appreciated his beautiful face, and felt his weight in my arms. He is my world. He is worth everything to me and my husband. I cannot imagine life without him.
I frankly hate that there is a visual representation of that baby’s near-death experience. I hate that the family can see their baby in any way but full of life… and yet, the whole situation ended well, and this picture is a moving and wonderful representation of love… and a miracle. Had it not ended well, my hope is these photos would not have surfaced.
Anyway… hug your babies tight. We never know. And be vigilant, because sometime God does let us keep our people, our babies.