This morning I felt compelled to read back over some of my earlier postings and realized how grateful I am that I began to write. This blog wasn't started for anyone in particular, but it grew into a daily account of the journey we have traveled with Will.
Someday soon, I will print off each posting and put it in his memory box, because I know with time, many of my memories will grow hazy.
Details may be forgotten.
And due to the emotional trauma of this event, some details have already been pushed aside...
I pray that as time passes some may come back to me.
So, I want to write about him while it is still fresh...as painful as that can be, maybe it will help if I write down and record all the details about him. Before these days slowly fade into the past, and eventually become years. I want to remember as much about Will as I possibly can.
Every little detail...actually there are many...
Even in a life that only lasted 52 hours outside the womb.
I'll start with my most favorite thing: his left foot.
During my stay in the hospital, I got to have an ultrasound nearly every week. Without water Will never moved around. He was breach and his position was really strange.
He was looking to my left side, his back to my right...
Hands in a praying position near his face...
One leg down...and then his left leg up by his head.
My baby was doing the splits.
As the weeks wore on, I asked the doctors if this would hurt him. They had warned me that without fluid some babies came out kind of crunched or certain body parts appeared to be deformed...for lack of a better word. This was due to the uterus enclosed around them.
The day of his birth, I was scared out of my mind. Ready to finally meet him, but not ready for all the uncertainty that lay ahead.
All I remember: Tim says, "He's out..." and he has tears in his eyes. A flurry of doctors begin working on him and I can't see a thing.
Then I catch my first glimpse and catch my breath. His whole left side is crunched up...his hand is bent back and his left leg looks like it is dangling. His foot is in some weird position.
My stomach sank...
But oh, his face...he looked like a little, angry old man. His little hat looked like it was something from a Dr. Seuss book. And we both fell in love with this baby, crunched body and all.
As the hours after his birth passed, we were able to finally go see him. That is when we noticed it...the toes on his left foot had a large gap between them. It looked so goofy and I couldn't help but laugh.
The time passed, and each time we went down to the NICU his body had slowly begun relaxing into its normal shape. His hand was no longer bent, his left leg stretched out and looked no different that his right. But that foot, while the foot itself began to look better, his toes still had that gap.
It became his trademark.
I scoffed when the doctors asked if this was a family thing. No one in either of our families had toes that looked like Dr. Spock's famous hand gesture. Seriously.
To me, it made perfect sense...that little foot had been the pain I felt pressed up by my ribs. Obviously, he had positioned the foot perfectly so that something allowed his toes to be moved and separated just so.
The one thing that had totally freaked me out, soon became his most famous characteristic...all of his footprints will forever have this pattern.
And it became one of our most beloved things about him.
Because it was just him...just Will.
No one else.
I know, with time, they would have straightened out. The rest of him did.
But what a cute blessing to have for such a short time.
Because whether I am having a good or bad day, laughing or crying,
I can look at a picture of his left foot and smile...and not help but giggle.