It's quiet in my house this morning. I intentionally rose before everyone so I could have this time by myself, so I could write this annual post and have time to process what the significance of this day means to me today, this 12th anniversary of the day my life was forever changed. I'm sitting here in what has just become our office and that significance isn't lost on me either. If Cole was here this would very well be his bedroom. And oh how I wish my house was as completely full as my heart is.
As with everything in this crazy year of 2020, how I'm processing this season of memories has been very different. Last year I talked about it as a grief maturity of sorts as it just seemed easier somehow. And this year has been the easiest by far. I have shed so fear tears...until last night and today. Last night it was memories of 12 years ago yesterday that brought tears as I watched this episode of a new docuseries that reminded me of not only the surgery that was done and the pain of the loss but also the fear that came with almost losing Cam too. Today it's a flood of memories from that painful day that's brought them but it's also the realization that mending a broken heart, making a broken heart feel as full as I wish my house was, is awful and wonderful all at the same time.
My heart shattered into a million pieces in that fetal echo room at Sick Kids hospital 12 year ago today and I'm totally struggling to even see through my tears as I remember that feeling. I couldn't imagine my life without this little boy I had been preparing for, this excitement and joy that I know having twin boys would bring. I remember those painful moments, those memories of the doctor doing the scan, the colour of the walls of the room, the view of Geoff crumbling against that wall. I clearly remember wondering how I'd ever get through this, how I'd ever be whole again. The shattered pieces of my heart lay on floor at my feet and I couldn't imagine even trying to put them back together.
Over 12 years, day by day, I've experienced moments that bring each piece back into my heart. It's not perfect and it feels extremely vulnerable, at times, but my heart is full with memories and moments that I truly feel are Cole's legacy here on earth, moments he may not have had physically but definitely was part of spiritually. I've spent many hours since he left us wondering why this is my reality but I've spent far more hours knowing that Cole is with me each step of the way as I work to help others, to change the face of TTTS support and, most recently, help change the face of fetal care standards.
My sweet son, you have changed me, changed my heart and mind, more than I ever thought possible. Twelve years ago today I could not have imagined that I would be meeting over video conference with world renown fetal surgeons and other medical professionals to help set standards of care in fetal medicine but this week this happened. The timing was not lost on me. It moved the usual darkness and dread that comes over me as this day approaches to the side and gave me light, joy and hope. Hope for the future for other babies struggling in the womb and hope for other families who may walk this path we've taken but in a way that feels more supported, less lonely. A week ago today I also began the process of taking over the management of a very significant TTTS support network and again the timing wasn't lost on me. And again I felt your presence and knew you were guiding my hands and my heart as I took on this responsibility and challenge. It feels like the way I can be your mommy in my heart even if my hands are empty of that task.
And so today on this 12th anniversary of the day we learned your heart was no longer beating and you'd left us far too soon I am definitely feeling a sense of peace. I feel like I have a full heart and I can see that those pieces of my heart that lay at my feet in Toronto 12 years ago have found a way to fit back together again. And for that I am so very comforted today.
My heart is full and the pieces are put back in place...but the cracks of that shattering will always be there. This day will always have sadness to it. I will always be sad that I don't have you here with me and that we all lost out on the joy of knowing you here. No day will go by that I don't miss you and wonder who you'd be today. And no day will go by where I don't wonder who I'd be today if none of this had happened. I am who I am because I've been where I've been and that's the biggest part of your legacy sweet son of mine...moving and changing the world through my head, my hands and feet and through my heart.
And so today I will shed tears and I will remember all the heartache of this day. I will remember you and I will wish and wonder. That's what this day will always be. Today I will miss you deeply Cole. Today I will feel aches that consume me at times. And today I will also know that it is ok to live in these moments of missing you and wishing you were here because without them I wouldn't have the other moments where I feel your presence, feel the push from you to be hope in the darkness for someone else, feel your love and light in what I do for others in honour of you.
Forever I will love you. Forever I will miss you. Forever I will be so glad you are mine.
