One year ago I let go. I let go of everything that I thought I knew about life and death. I let go.
When the surgeon came to talk with us he was honest and direct, but he was also excited to offer a glimmer of hope during what were Matilda's last days of life.
There were concerns about the donor's liver - the two-week-old baby was brought to the hospital with a low-grade fever of unknown cause. Saying that the surgery would be difficult to perform is a huge understatement. He told us that there was a very high chance that something would go wrong and there would be nothing they could do. No second chance. But Matilda was hanging on by her last thread. She was on four different medications to counter her extremely low blood pressure, she was on loads of antibiotics, and her nose had been bleeding for 24 hours. He told us that, in his opinion, her only chance was to take the risk and go ahead with the transplant.
This was it. And we knew it.
The nursing staff had slowly been saying their goodbyes to Matilda. Lingering a few extra minutes between shifts, telling Matilda how beautiful she was and to keep holding on. We knew. They brought a social worker up to make molds of Matilda's hands and feet. We knew. We were losing our girl. And it was time to let go.
I look back often and I cry even more. I cry tears that don't represent sadness or happiness. They are tears of relief and comfort. This year was beautiful and I am thankful for every moment of it. I have never been surrounded by such love. I have never endured such trials. I have never danced so intimately with my faith. And I am thankful for every bit of it.
And Matilda. She is perfect. I have never known a baby so sweet and lovable. I don't try and predict the future, but I do know that it will be filled with smiles, laughter, and one mighty little fighter.
