Memory Triggers

I am still amazed today at the little things that I run across in life that trigger vivid memories and feelings of Graham. This last week I finally ordered his birth and death certificates and tried to figure out if he had a SS number designated to him (all for tax purposes) and I kept asking myself why I didn't take care of this sooner, but to be quite honest, I really didn't want to mess with all the paper work after the fact. So yesterday I spent all afternoon bouncing from the Social Security office to the IRS trying to figure out if he needed a SS number or a TIN for taxes, rehashing my story, people trying to get their facts straight, and honestly, I'm surprised that this was an uncommon occurrence and no one knew what to do. I was surprised last week as we met with our accountant and Mike asked him about what we needed to do with Graham on taxes and how hard it was to talk about. I hate when my eyes fill up with water and my chest gets tight, especially in front of people that don't know me. I did the same thing yesterday as I met with different people and it drove me crazy. I don't want a pity party. I just need to get some facts, and I'll be finished.

But the memory that shocked me the most just came from looking over his death certificate. I looked at causes of death, and I swear and was swept back to that hospital room. I remember having Graham in my arms and the neonatologist coming into the room after we had decided to keep Graham with us. He told us what it was going to be like to watch Graham die. What organ systems would go first, what he would look like, and how we would know for certain that he was gone. I remember being a bit panicked at that information. I had never watched anyone die before. And honestly, I just didn't know what to expect of myself. Would I really be strong enough to let him struggle with his breathing and not ask for help? I remember later on, being in the room with my parents and couple of hours after he was born, Graham's breathing was really sporadic. He would take a breath and then not take another breath for another 30 seconds and finally we thought that he was gone. We had said our goodbyes and felt an overwhelming sadness like it was over, but then he took this huge gasp and he had a second wind. For the next hour or so he looked the best he ever had. We thought he had made this miraculous rebound. But that was short lived and he slowly started slipping again. He took his last breath around 5 pm that night. I remember it being so peaceful. He didn't struggle, he wasn't in pain, his spirit just left his body. I remember this time, not feeling so sad, but some relief that he was okay. He completed his mission.

Having these memories have such mixed emotions. They always bring tears, but sometimes tears of grief, and other times tear of happiness. I read somewhere on a blog earlier this week from a mother that lost her child that even in the darkest times of our life that God is good. And I know that for a fact. That He knows the Plan. That He knows of our sorrow and grief, but that he always blesses us with a rainbow after the storm. I still miss Graham everyday, and there's not a day that I don't wish that he was here, but having said that, I know that without this trial my family wouldn't have received many of the blessings that we have. God is good.