7 months

I think of Oscar often, and the 5th is a day that really brings him to mind. This morning I was reflecting on something someone said to me, shortly after Oscar's diagnosis when we had decided we would let him write his story, whatever that might be. What they said was, "This will be the hardest thing you ever do". In that moment, I thought they might be right. I had no idea what was to come, or how we would handle it, or what the end result would be. All I knew was that my baby was very likely to die, probably before I even met him.

As it turns out, I don't think that statement, "this is the hardest thing you'll ever do", was true. When I was in the middle of it, things were challenging, and sad, but they were also joyous, and amazing, and wonderful. Carrying Oscar for nine months, seeing his face, hearing him cry, watching us look around and recognize us, and witnessing his peaceful passing, was one of the most miraculous things I've ever been a part of. Saying goodbye to him, experiencing depths of grief interspersed with moments of bittersweet remembrance, was hard but a part of his story. I remember planning his memorial, sitting upstairs looking through pictures while the fall sunshine poured through the windows thinking, "he's telling us that everything is ok".

So in the end, I don't think of it as the hardest thing I've ever done. I think of how lucky I was to be a part of his life, how much he taught me, and the incredible, overwhelming amount of love he brought into my life, and I think, "This is the most incredible thing I've ever been a part of. Thank you little man".