With Andrew, the first time I got to hold him was also the last. I remember watching doctors and nurses trying so hard to keep him alive and I knew it was no use and all I could think was how badly I wanted to just hold my son. To make sure that he could feel my presence before his spirit left...so that he knew how much I loved him and how badly it was going to hurt when he was gone. The feeling when the nurse handed him to me for the first time...I have never felt more like a mother than in that moment. Holding my son, crying, and telling him over and over again how much I loved him. Somehow I think I needed that to get through the following weeks watching Samuel struggle and to be able to let him go, too. Maybe that's the best memory Andrew could have given me. Strength. I think Andrew gave me strength and a will to fight for his brother.
Holding Samuel for the first time was so different. He was warm, breathing. His heart was beating. And it felt refreshing. To hold a living baby. My baby. It was also why it was so important. To show me that there was hope. That maybe I would be bringing home a living, breathing baby. Unfortunately I was not that lucky, but this picture marked the first FAMILY picture of us with our little boy that we thought would be coming home with us. I am forever grateful to our nurse for taking it because it marks such a happy moment. And she knew how badly I needed to hold him, too. So that I could have hope that he would be okay. That he would make it. I loved ever moment stroking his sensitive, beautiful, soft skin. Feeling his heart beat and hands and feet move against my body as I had when I was pregnant. It was a pure miracle holding him. Knowing I made him and he was so perfect and tiny. If only holding him had been enough.
There are so many memories...but holding my babies are by far the best moments of my life.
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