We have many nick names for Harry. One of my nick names for him was, “Angel Baby”. How prophetic.
I recall so clearly the last time I called him that. It was on February 24th, 2008. We were still in the room on CK4, not yet moved up to the oncology ward CK5, but it was after we had been given the devastating news of his cancer. A nurse had come into the room to do something, I can’t recall what, take some blood, check a temperature, take a blood pressure reading?
I put the side of the crib down, I was on Harry’s left side, and I held his hand and stroked his head and comforted him as she poked and prodded. I can so clearly hear myself saying, “It’s okay Angel Baby, don’t cry, you’ll be okay Angel Baby”.
And then, my Awareness, observed myself hunched over Harry’s hospital crib; heard myself say those words, prompted me to say to myself “Stop. What kind of idiot calls her child, who has just been given a grave diagnosis of metastatic liver cancer, “Angel Baby”.
“Oh God," I thought. "What AM I doing. NO, I don’t want him to be my Angel Baby. Don’t call him that, I can’t call him that. What AM I thinking?”
I never called him Angel Baby again. Well, until he was my Angel Baby. Now I’ll always call him my Angel Baby.
Love,
Cynthia
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3 comments:
Dear, dear Cyn,
You know we're in this with you. I know I called Harry "Angel baby" all the time. I remember clearly that exactly one year ago today (one day after we'd heard Harry's diagnosis), our mutual friend Bill dropped over to see how we were doing. As I remember it, my first question to him was, "Oh Bill, did we call Harry 'Angel baby' too many times?"
Folding you all up in love,
Kathleen
Dearest Cynthia,
Your post really touched me, since I call my kids my Angels all the time. Don't ever think that you calling him your Angel Baby had anything to do with him getting ill. All kids are their parents' Angels, some are on the couch next to them, while others, like Harry, are all around them all the time.
Love,
Dragana
Dear Cynthia-
Thanks for writing and sharing your feelings so openly on this blog.
When I read your posts, I think of myself as in solidarity with you, even though you may not know it at the time. When you write, I imagine you spinning or weaving a web in which we are all a part, along with your dear baby boy.
I just got back from a holiday in Maui with my family, and one day we got up at 4:15 to drive up the Haleakala Crater (10,000 feet above sea level) to see the sun rise over the crater. Haleakala means "House of the Sun" in Hawai'ian. Mom and Dad were at a slightly different spot, so they heard a woman singing to welcome the sun. I was on the White Hill with Theresa, (a pile of lava rocks) where the dry dusty ground somehow manages to support a few green shrubs, and a rare plant (it only grown in this one spot in the world) called the Silverthorn. There's very little rainfall up there, but a few creatures somehow survive in the barren aeolian (airborne) environment- they get what they need from the wind.
We saw the sun come up through the bars of clouds, turning them golden as it rose, and then the whole space was full of light.
It was beautiful place to think of Harry.
lots of love,
Miriam
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