remembering Max: saying goodbye.

i don't remember how this day began. i've been trying to remember but i just can't. it might be because the day before never really ended and so the day never really had the kind of "wake-up" that normal days do. and i guess that makes sense because this was in no way a normal day. the way i remember Friday March 15, 2013 is in snapshots. and not in video or photo snap shots -- because all of our cameras and phones were dead by this point. not a single picture was taken on Friday. instead, my memories are much like slide-show snapshots - where in my mind, one conversation jumps to the next. one moment with Max jumps to the next - without any real fluidity or transition.

...

8 am or so - a new nurse came in.  Max's pain and discomfort seemed much more severe.

...

Dr. Eusterbrock came in. recommended morphine for the pain, and very shortly after administered the medicine.

...

Max's alertness was gone.

...

his color faded. and continued to change throughout the day.

...

his breathing became very slow. and labored.

...

the girls were cranky. lots of fighting. Gammy + Pops took them to breakfast.

...

silence. 

yawning. 

exhaustion.

...

Ruth, our social worker came in. "have you talked to the girls about death?"

that last word "death" echoed over and over and over. it was really coming. we had talked to them about Max being sick but never about death. that was going to be hard. she encouraged us to prepare the girls for what was coming soon. 

...

the girls came back. M and i decided to heed Ruth's advice and talk to the girls. they were playing a game. Alice was stealing cards. Ellie was getting upset. it was like watching myself talk to a class of bored high school students about some calculus equation while the students were busy poking each other and passing notes. and yet it wasn't a boring teacher. it was me. talking to my kids. i heard myself tell them, "but that's what's so special about what we believe. and about temples. daddy and mommy were married in a temple, and because of that our family will be together forever. that means that even though Max is going to die very soon, we will also get to see him and be with him someday, as long as we try our best to be good and do good." M and i looked at each other. i had always been grateful for our eternal marriage - but in that moment, it was an invaluable blessing to me and my little family.

and then someone hit someone else and the moment passed. i didn't know if they understood. death is an impossible subject so i couldn't blame them if they had been ignoring me.

...

less silence. 

more yawning. 

more exhaustion.
...
 

it was a cold morning. but it was sunny outside. the girls were restless. there was a playground right around the corner from our room and i was overwhelmed with the desire for Max to feel the fresh air on his face. he'd never felt that before. so we bundled him up like a lil burrito, and trekked out into the cold to let his sisters play and for Max to feel real air.

the play-yard was in the middle of downtown Oakland. around us were loud trains and cars and city sounds. and yet we couldn't see any of that because big, giant magnolia trees surrounded us on every side. the brisk breeze filled the air with that sweet smell of the magnolia blooms. the girls ran up and down the structure, going down the slides and chasing each other. and there Max sat, cuddled in my arms, listening to his sisters' feet run and their little mouths giggle. for a moment, it felt like things were normal. like we were at a park by our house, introducing our new baby to our world. there isn't a single photo of this scene, and i'm strangely happy about that... because i'm afraid they'd taint my memory of that idyllic moment. it was perfect. because of that morning, magnolias will always be Max's flower, and i'll always love them.

...

we were all back inside. i could tell Ellie was having a hard time. i asked her to come with me to the cafeteria. even though i didn't really want to leave Max's side, i sensed she needed some one-on-one time and attention from her mama, and i conveniently needed to eat. i let her pick whatever she wanted (pudding, anyone?), and she picked our seats in the back corner of this huge room. i was taking a bite from my disgrace of a sandwich (why is hospital food so appalling?), and Ellie was playing with her pudding/jello thing (how could you resist? it is too jiggly to be considered food), when her sweet honey-colored eyes peered up at me and she timidly asked, 

"Mama?" 

"Yes, Ellie?"

"Is Max going to die?"

"Yes, Ellie. he is going to die very soon."

[silence. and a few tears trickling down my cheeks.]

"Mama?"

"Yes Ellie?"

"Will every baby I have always die?"

[heart breaks.]

"No Ellie. this is a very unique thing. babies don't usually die. in fact, they almost never die."

"But Max is going to die?"

"Yes, Max is going to die."

and then she stopped playing with her food. and she looked down. and suddenly she broke into uncontrollable sobs. i couldn't console her. it was like the whole thing clicked. she understood that she was saying goodbye to her baby brother. and the only way i got her to gain control was by telling her,

"Ellie, it is ok to be sad. this is so very sad. let's go give Max another hug."

and she put her arms around me, and didn't let go until we saw Max, and then she flung those arms around him...and held him tight for the longest time. 

and that was the start of the goodbyes.

... 

many other doctors and nurses came in and out throughout the day. their words are the biggest blur of the day, almost like the buzzing of bees.

...

and then it came. i was sitting on a chair holding Max. it was about 4:00 in the afternoon. my mom and dad were with the girls while they were watching a movie. M was sitting on the bed next to me. the room was still. i knew it was about to happen. i just knew. i looked down at Max and watched him take a breath. i looked at M and said, "i think this is it, for real." he looked at me, a little confused at first because he had just seen him breathe, too. and then together we watched him. it was almost as if i could feel his giant spirit leaving that tiny, frail body. in that same moment, Dr. Eusterbrock walked in. i could barely utter the words, "i'm ... pretty ... sure ... it's happening ... now ..."

and there he stood with us, standing over M and me and little Max, until his little body finally felt only like a little body. and Dr E. listened to him, and gave us a sympathetic nod. 

hot tears drench my face as i recall this moment and try to communicate what it was like. i don't know what to say. what i felt then is what i feel now -- it is an incredibly sacred experience to be with someone when they die. and while i ache that things happened this way, i am also filled with a new kind of love. i want to love more fiercely and freely - and that's because of Max's life and his death. 

...

everyone had the chance to say goodbye. i'll never forget my mom singing to Max, and bathing him in her tears. i'll never forget my girls kissing his nose and forehead and hands - and telling him he's the best baby in the whole world. i'll never forget my dad holding him and thanking him for coming back on his birthday. i'll never forget Dr. Eusterbrock's entrance into that room, with such impeccable timing, and then his tight embrace, offering his most sincere condolences. i'll never forget M's parents' tight hugs and cuddles -- the last ones i think. i'll never forget M, holding tight to Max - for the longest time - not wanting to let go. i'll never forget my last hug and kiss to that little boy - and touching those sweet little imperfect hands one last time and kissing that perfect nose. i loved those little imperfect hands and that perfect lil nose. and i'll never forget the sweet nurse wrapping sweet Max up in a blanket and taking him away, crying all the while. saying goodbye to a baby is just unnatural, there's no way around it. 

and yet we had to do it. and we did it. and i'll never be the same for it. 

and truthfully, i don't want to be.

Max's life and his death has awakened a part of me that i didn't know existed. he has taught me so very many things - some of which i hope to be able to share throughout my life, as well as here on my blog in the coming months and years. above all else, he has given me a changed perspective. i want to do good. i want to be good. i want my marriage to be good. i want to teach my kids how to do good and be good -- so that someday we can all be good enough to be with Max again ... in a perfect place, where saying goodbye is something we'll never have to do again.

there's nothing i want more.

...

afterword: 

words cannot adequately express my gratitude to each and every one of you for the countless ways that you have reached out to me and my family throughout this whole experience. we have been carried by your prayers, kind acts of service, messages, and incredible expressions of love. thank you for loving my family. thank you for taking the time to let us know you love us. thank you for loving lil ole me. and mostly, thank you for loving our Max. he truly is the greatest, and i'm honored to have shared him (and to be able to continue to share him) with each of you. God is good.

...

xoxo