Giving back....

My experience of loosing my son has truly changed me; not just the loss of his life, but the entire experience from his conception to his final heartbeats. Each moment was a blessing, part of God's journey for my life and my family. My journey with Leo was marked heavily with spectacular people, who've left huge imprints on my heart and soul. Despite the tragedy of loosing my precious son, I have been touched by so many. From doctors who cared, to friends who "showed up", to strangers who prayed, to nurses who cried with us; they all have walked part of this journey with us.


A group who really touched my life was the team in NICU at Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital. This group of "angels" created an environment in the midst of chaos, fear, and pain so profound, so enveloping, so peaceful. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people. Nurses who cared, who knew our names, remembered things that normally would be forgotten. Nurses who watched our son's fleeting, final heart beats, and were there to wipe away our tears. Neonatologists who gave us Leo's grim news through tear stricken eyes. These people care. They walk the journey with parents as they endure some of the most difficult events in their lives. These amazing people in NICU are truly His hands and feet. 


When I first entered my son's private NICU room (Legacy Salmon Creek is one of the only hospital that provides private rooms in NICU) I was greeted with personal touches that struck me to my core. Within mere hours of his birth, there were already scrapbook pages gracing the walls of his NICU room. Leo's image was already captured and placed on these pages with love. The volunteer harp player who came to serenade us in Leo's final hours brought so much peace to our aching hearts. Each strum of her strings melted away the fears, and ushered in God's loving arms. Prayers said by both the Chaplain and our own pastors and grief counselors were those that will always be remembered. And after Leo had passed, the tender loving care these NICU nurses gave him was almost unfathomable. We were provided with a special blanket for him, a gown that fit his tiny form, and even the preciousness of having his hands and feet cast. We walked away from his NICU room, knowing that he was in "good" hands, with a box of memories to last us a lifetime. Even the day after his passing, when we said our goodbyes one last time, we were given the care, hope, and comfort we needed to get through those fleeting moments of "goodbye".


I didn't get to leave the hospital that day with a baby in my arms. I didn't leave the hospital with celebration balloons or burp cloths strewn over my shoulder. I left with a box of memories. Memories that wouldn't be created without the help of this amazing group from NICU. 


Recently, I have wanted to give back to these "angels". My grandmother made special blankets to donate to the NICU. I wasn't ready to make a trip back to the NICU, so she asked me if there was anything special I would like her to bring as well. I thought about it, and was struck with the idea to give the NICU my 4x6 photo printer. I had only used it once, and it had sat in a drawer for over a year. I also added to the bag some scrap-booking supplies as well. I typed up a short note stating these were donations in memory of my son, and then was done. 


Later that week she brought these donations to the NICU. Two nurses came out with happy smiles, in awe of the gifts that were brought. As they looked into the bag, they gasped. One looked up and said "we literally just printed our last picture on our photo printer and then it died." Talk about an "Only God" moment. I assumed my miniscule attempt at donating would be an ordinary thing... and yet it was more momentous that I anticipated. When my grandma shared the news of what happened, my heart was touched and changed once again. 


Last week I went out and bought a whole bag full of scrap-booking supplies. This time I delivered them myself. As Nevaeh and I made our way down the skybridge to the main floor of the hospital she asked, "Are we going to see my baby Leo?" My heart broke as I tried to explain to her that he was only at the hospital for a little while, and that he lives in Heaven. She looked up at me with wide eye's and said, " Oh yea, with Jesus." Than in the next breath she said, "Are we going to pick up my sister?" Silence.... crickets.... Nevaeh knows something that I don't about the future... about my journey. 


As I made my way to the 4th floor, a peace came over me that was unexpected. I assumed I would have feelings of anxiousness, and yet, I felt peace. Fancy that would you? As I handed another smiling NICU nurse my donation, she asked me if the donation was in honor of anything special... and I got to say, "yes, these are being donated in memory of my son, who spent some time here before he passed. I want others to have the same special experience that we did." As Nevaeh and I left, I realized what a huge step I had just made. Such HOPE. Hope for the future, and hope for others who might be in a similar situation. 


I am so thankful for these people who have stamped their love on my heart. Thank you!