Showing love in ways that last

It's funny, I still feel like I am learning so much from the week our family had with Gideon.  I spent almost 29 weeks with him, if you count the pregnancy too, but the one week we had where he was on the outside of my body, with the ability to see him and sometimes hold him was different.  Over the last weeks as Valentines Day has come and gone and as there has been so much hype about the movie 50 Shades of Grey that just came out, I have spent a lot of time thinking about love.  I have pondered on the moments when I have felt the most loved, the moments when I have felt like I have shown the most love, and on true ways of expressing love to people.

As the years have gone on, I have become less and less a fan of Valentines Day.  People who don't have a "special someone" tend to feel lonely, girls get their hopes up of a "secret admirer" sending them something that day, parents are expected to buy/bring in little cards and/or treats for all the people in their kid's classes, and there is so much pressure to buy a diamond or flowers or chocolates and to go out to a fancy meal.  Perhaps some of my "dislike" is my very frugal nature, and spending money just isn't a way to show lasting love, in my opinion.  I do not like the idea of going into debt, and spending more money than is wise, and since we have chosen to have a big family, (yes--chosen, we are very aware of the choices we make to have more children) and for me to work only part time from home, we keep things on a tight budget.  We have fun, we love life, but we don't spend a lot of money on "frills".  Especially in the U.S., it seems to me that we have become such a society of consumers, we have wholeheartedly bought into the "buying" traditions, the present or candy or costume or jewelry or (fill in the blank)______ buying traditions, and it's gotten to a level of insanity that leaves a very sour taste in my mouth.  Christmas bothers me for the same reason--yes, it's a time to celebrate the greatest gift, and to spend with family, and to give, but true gifts should come from our hearts.

Valentines Day is a great day to show people you love them, but I don't love the idea that it has to be with expensive gifts, or with gifts that cost any money at all.  For the last few years, I forbid my husband from spending $ on Valentines Day, and didn't buy him any gifts with $ either.  We have saved going out to a nice dinner for another weekend, one when the restaurants are not so jam packed with people.  (I'll admit it, the first year I did this, he was nervous that it might bite him in the butt later on--when months down the road I was having a bad day and threw out the "You didn't even get me anything for Valentines Day" line, especially if I blurted it out in front of his sisters, but I never have said that, and I never will.)  It's not that we treat the day like any other day, we still make it special, just not with spending $ on stuff.  I love that the day is set aside as a special reminder of sharing our love, we still find sweet ways to express our love to each other and to our children.

In my diverse and wandering thoughts about showing love in ways that last, I have thought about Gideon's last day many times.  We knew, ahead of time, that his body was shutting down.  The machines were barely managing to keep him alive, and even then, there had been several very touch and go moments, when we almost lost him.  His kidneys had no function, his body was filling back up with fluid, he was a dying child.  The awesome staff at Primary Children's Hospital had arranged for us to have Gideon moved to a larger room for his last day, so that all of our family could be there together.  (In PCH's normal NICU setting, they have tons of incubators and equipment all together and there is really not a lot of sitting/standing room, so they limit a patient's visitors to 2.)  We wanted to celebrate the miracle that he had lived a week by singing Happy Birthday and doing some special things to show Gideon and our children that we loved them, but we couldn't really give Gideon any stuff he would take with him.  Normally, a birthday involves presents--stuff giving, but we didn't really have that as an option.  So we improvised and it became one of the most special, loving, wonderful and hard days of my life.

We sang together.  Because his oxygen saturation improved every time we sang, we believe that he loved music, we found a common joy and we shared it.  We sang several of our children's favorite songs, all together, so he could hear them before he left this mortal life.  I have those beautiful songs to hold onto, to sing over and over.  Give Said the Little Stream will never be the same again.  The amazing musical therapists came in and talked with us about things we loved about Gideon, things we wished we could help him know, and they wrote a lullaby which we sang to him.  They also recorded it and gave it to us to keep, so we have it to listen to and remember.  That song is a gift I will treasure always, it gave to all of us a way to show him we love him, and a way for us to remember his life, and the things that matter most.

We read a story.  I love books, and have tried to pass that love on to all of my children.  I wanted it to be new, a book that none of us had ever read or heard of before, so that it was as fresh for any of the rest of us as it was for Gideon.  There was a silly book that had a dragon in it, and since all the kids love dragons, we talked to Gideon about dragons and I read ALL 5 of my children the book.  I wanted him to hear the sound of my voice, the giggles of his siblings as we read, the time with all of us.  That gift gives back to me, as I can hold onto the memory of reading it to all of my kids.

We said a family prayer.  My faith has helped me immensely through the journey, and praying as a family has helped all of us to cope, and to trust in whatever God has planned for us.  I wanted Gideon to be a part of that, and on that day, when we were able to be together, he was.

We held him.  Once they moved him safely into the family room, he spent the day in the arms of people who loved him.  I had to take breaks to pump and to go to the bathroom, but my husband, children, and other family visitors took turns to hold him, so that he could spend the day in physical contact with people who loved him, and who would remember him.

That day, more than any other day of his life, he opened his eyes and made eye contact with us several times. Up until his last day, I thought I would not get to see his eyes open, but I did.  It was a gift he gave me, being able to look into his eyes.  More than ever now, I am aware that looking into someone's eyes, making real eye contact and telling them you love them is a huge treasure.  Watching how heavy his eyelids seemed to be, I could tell it took immense amounts of energy for him to open and hold his eyes open for even just 5 seconds, but he did several times that morning.  That is one of my favorite expressions of love from him, and eye contact has moved up the ranks of ways to truly show love in my book.

I talked to him about things I wanted to do with him, about things I knew would have to wait until he was resurrected with a whole, strong body, but I made plans with him and set goals and told him about things I was excited to share with him.  Sharing plans and dreams with someone is a great way to open yourself to them, and to show them that you love them and trust them with your heart.

And I did love him with my heart.  Loving someone does open you up to heartache and heartbreak, but LOVE them anyway.  It might have been easier to cope with the loss if I didn't want and love this child so much, but I did, and so it hurt and it still hurts, and it probably always will.

Since Gideon's passing, I have had many moments where I have needed and have felt very loved through the actions and kindnesses of other people.  People have said kind words, have reached out and squeezed my hand, have given me a hug, have brought me plants to put in our garden in Gideon's memory (I love plants) and they will come back each year.  Sometimes, people have said nothing at all, just brought a meal, asked if there was anything they could do (and meant it), have come and helped clean.  Scott and I have shed tears together, and there is something amazing and powerful about someone who will cry with you, even when there are no words to say to make something better.  I have felt and seen love expressed in ways that involve many hours of time, but very little $, and I have felt more loved than with any expensive gifts.

Loving Gideon has helped me to remember and realize that there are some ways of expressing love that you CAN take with you.    Giving people your time--I still wish I would have spent MORE time at the hospital with him, because time was one of the things I didn't realize how little we would have with him.  The time I did spend, though, he got to take with him in memories and feelings.  Tender and loving physical contact, true and deeply connecting eye contact, telling someone why you love them and things that you treasure about them, opening yourself up and talking about dreams and goals, sharing common interests and joys, and sharing hobbies and activities that one or the other loves, even if it's not mutually enjoyed, sharing expressions of faith, making new memories together, truly living in the moment and feeling that life is a blessing when you are with those you love.  THOSE are the things Gideon got to take with him, and the things that I love the most about the last day of his life.  The things you can take with you--they are real, true, and deep.  THOSE are the things I want for on Christmas, on Valentines Day, on any day really, but especially those days that are meant to be days full of love.