If you follow the blog, you know that I am tres excited to greet Sir Elton in about two months time. I'm excited for every niece and nephew and Godkid that comes into my life. But for some reason, I feel super connected to Sir Elton. My mom thinks it's because he's going to be a carbon copy of me when I was a kid and thus we have that whole miniature hellraiser connection going on. I've been blessed (and I don't use that word often, but it applies here) to be an uncle since I was 19. I was already in love at the time, but it was a completely different kind of falling in love when my niece was born. It was a glimpse of what would happen when Miss N came into my life. Like an unconditional, head over heels, knocked on your ass kind of love. It's intoxicating. Which is probably why so many people go right at it and have a second kid without realizing having more than one knocks you on your ass in a different way. My best friend has only one sibling, a sister, that she's had a long and winding road of a relationship with. I've written before that they couldn't be more different personality-wise. The only thing they have in common is that they're both fiery, something they no doubt inherited from their late mother. Her death brought them closer together and also sent A (the BF's sister) on a bit of a self-discovery kick. Last year, out of the blue, she announced she'd married a guy she hadn't known that long and everyone was a little concerned. But they seemed to settle in okay and they really did seem to be in love. A few months later, she found out she was pregnant (they didn't get married because of that, the pregnancy came after the marriage). Both she and the BF were thrilled. The BF has Miss L, but has never been an
official, official aunt. She counts my siblings kids as her own and she's Miss N's Godmother, but since she only has the one sibling, she hasn't had the chance to watch her sister go through a pregnancy and have a baby. And sadly, she still hasn't. Not the way it should be, anyway. Her sister went into very premature labor and they couldn't stop it. The baby was not developed enough to survive outside the womb, and the doctors advised everyone that it (the sex still unknown at that time because they'd chosen to be surprised) would not likely survive the night. The BF dropped everything and went to be at her sister's side. At 2:08 PM, little Henrik Raymond was born. They pulled his first name from their shared Scandinavian ancestry, the middle from her dad's name. They called him Henry, for short. He was tiny and he was in bad shape. Mom, dad, aunts, grandpas, grandma and cousins all got to visit Henry while he laid in the NICU attached to several machines that could only make him more comfortable as everyone waited for the inevitable. Doctors didn't think he would make it through the night, but he almost did. Henry passed away at 4:17 AM this morning, having spent only 14 hours in this life. Hopefully, his next life is much kinder and he gets to spend it with the grandma he never would have gotten to meet had he stayed with the rest of us down here. His 14 hours were spent with family, each of whom would have given anything to trade fates with the little guy. Time well spent.
Sadly, this isn't the first time our family has taken this kind of blow. One of my cousins lost her first child, also a son, when he was just four months old. The reason for his passing is still quite murky. At first, it appeared he'd had a bad reaction to a medication given for a cold. But then, there was evidence to suggest the pharmacist had given him either the wrong medication, or the wrong dosage and that resulted in his death. The official cause has never been determined, unfortunately. It's sad when anyone passes but when it's a baby, it really causes you to stop and think about a lot of things. And it makes you extremely thankful that you made it this far and that your child (or other children in your life) are healthy. I would not be able to cope if anything ever happened to Miss N or Miss L or any of the kids I adore. It seems so senseless and just plain wrong when a tiny little person who hasn't even seen the outside of a hospital dies. Having a kid makes you much more cognizant of your own mortality, so I can't fathom what having and losing a kid all in the space of a day does to you. There's not even a descriptive word for people who lose a child. If your spouse dies, you're a widow or widower. If your parent dies, you're an orphan. But what are you if you lose your child? There's no word strong enough. R.I.P. Mr. H. You are already missed.
