I held you today. At his 6 month old check up, the doctor found that Logan has a heart murmur. My first thought? Great … we donated Owen’s heart and now we’re going to be on the list to get a heart. Great timing!
Last week we took him to Children’s to have a consult. While the murmur sounded like it was just extra noise, he couldn’t say it for sure. Given the circumstances, we were given the option to just go ahead and have an EKG done. I knew I wouldn’t sleep at night not knowing if Logan’s heart beat correctly or not, so we opted to just have the test done.
We took your brother today to have an EKG done at Children’s. It was different this time. The consult was done on a different floor and the room looked different. It didn’t feel like when we were there with you. This time … the room felt the same. It was just like your room. The crib we laid Logan in was the same that we laid you in for the last time. When you had no heart. We wrapped him in the same kind of blankets that came back from the funeral home. The same kind that they had to swaddled in after your donation surgery. When you had no heart. I wondered if any other babies had died in the same blanket that now swaddled Logan. I said a little prayer just in case.
Logan had to be sedated for the test. Makes sense as he wouldn’t be able to lay still long enough to get good pictures. I didn’t realize how that would make me feel until it was all happening. I watched as the nurse held Logan down to give him the medicine. She had him swaddled in blankets so he couldn’t squirm about. I had to close my eyes. I had wanted to hear you cry so badly when we were here the last time. But you laid motionless, limp, with tubes and wires everywhere. Maybe Logan was screaming a little extra for the cries you wanted to yell.
Finally he took all of the medicine and the nurse asked who was going to rock him. It never occured to me that I would be holding him as his sedation kicked in. So I held him and rocked with him in the rocking chair. Please tell Logan that I’m sorry. I held him close to me and pictured you. I tried to remember every detail of when I got to hold you for the last time. I actually wished he was you.
I kept kissing his cheeks to make sure they were still warm. Your cheeks were cool … like they had been in the crisp wind.
He was moaning a little bit … just like he does when he’s so tired but doesn’t want to sleep. So I sang to him. I sang him the same songs I sang to you that night. This little like of mine. I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine … I closed my eyes and held Logan and sang to you.
The tests went well. The results were wonderful. Logan’s heart is just fine. The murmur is just extra noise. I jumped up and hugged the doctor. I didn’t realize how truly worried I had been. This whole time I felt like his murmur was going to be this shadow that loomed out in the future. When was it going to hurt Logan? When would it be time to go through the loss of a child all over again? I didn’t want it to bog me down so I figured I would allow myself to feel the bad news when it left the doctor’s lips. I refused to worry about it this past week. It all came flooding out as we got the good news. I felt and let go of the worry all in one motion.
Maybe you were there with us today. Maybe not. But in case you weren’t, please hear my prayer that your brother is ok! I hope you helped him to be brave. He was almost as brave of a warrior as you were. And still are.
I sang to you. No I still sing to you. I rocked you. No I rock you whenever I rock one of your brothers.
I held you. I hold you every time I hold Logan, Weston or Jaden. I hope you heard me today. I love you.