Today is the one year anniversary of the day that everything changed. It was the day that Owen’s course became “complicated” (that is the technical term, but it feels all too simple of word, if you ask me). It was the day I learned the difference between a parent fearing for your child and the doctors fearing for your child. It was the day I took a ½ hour break from Owen’s bedside to go to our room and plead with God to not take my son. I have never felt so vulnerable.
I think this picture of Owen and I on May 24, 2011 says enough; for I have yet to find words to explain the myriad of emotions I have about that day and those that followed. I had forgotten that there were pictures taken. I had deleted them from my cell phone because I hated the reminders. But recently, I found that I had put them on Snapfish and I was really proud of the woman I saw in this picture. I started a ritual on that sickest day of Owen’s, and I’m guessing that I’m doing it when this photo was taken. I put one hand on his tiny head and one on his tiny feet and as I swaddled him I’d silently say to him, “Owen, take my strength, I will find more”. And he did. And I did too.