Springtime
Spring is a tough season for me. I've always thought of cherry blossoms as symbolic of Isla, these beautiful buds that burst into life and thrive for a short time, then are gone almost as quickly as they appear. They remind us that life is beautiful, and brief.
Today marks five years from the very first time Isla got a taste of the outdoors. Although she had technically been outside before, it was in an incubator box on the afternoon of her birth, being transported from Baylor to Children's on an ambulance loading dock in mid January. Daniel and I were several floors above. Not likely to be a memorable experience for her.
Almost four months later, we got to dress her in real clothes and emerge from the 8th floor step-down cardiac unit of Children's into the courtyard. It was. cloudless, windy, blindingly bright spring day, and the courtyard was filled with beautful flowers and windchimes. Dan carried her in a sling and woke her up by lifting her up into the sun. She felt the breeze on her face for the very first time, and as she woke up, she promptly went wide-eyed at the blaze of colors and scents around her. We stayed outside for an hour or so, just walking in circles and showing her everything and taking turns holding her in the sun. It was amazing.
Today is a happy memory, but it reminds me of how the anniversary of the most miserable day of our lives looms in the near future. At the beginning of May that year we were filled with hope, seeing the light and promise of leaving the hospital and letting Isla grow at home until she was big enough to have her next surgery. I was preparing to return to work. We were working on getting her off a feeding tube and on all oral medications. Things were looking up. I never once let myself consider that things wouldn't work out, and the possibility of losing her a few short weeks after this day just never entered my mind.
Today, everything reminds me of her. We recently planted a tree at our home in Charlottesville and worked some of Isla's ashes into the root structre - and a few weeks ago, the buds burst into life. It's the most beautiful thing you see once you turn onto our street, and every single time I pass it, my heart catches in my throat and I miss her.
