Miracle by definition.

Definition of MIRACLE

1

: an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs

2

: an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment

3

Christian Science : a divinely natural phenomenon experienced humanly as the fulfillment of spiritual law

I've witnessed a miracle.  May 21, 2011 around 5pm.  This day hurts.  Its been two years but as I type this my shoulders are tighter than they should be, my stomach doesn't feel right and my breathing is a little quicker than it probably needs to be.  Seems like decades ago but feels like moments ago.  The images are clear.  It plays as a movie in my mind.  I know what people were wearing, I hear there voices and I know exactly what my husband looked liked slumped over in that blue chair.  I remember the team working on my son giving firm and direct orders to one another.  I remember people with very serious faces moving so quickly and efficiently yet not looking too panicked.  I remember the air in the room- it felt stuffy yet I was kind of cold and a little sweaty.  I remember what Easton looked like even though I could only glance a few times as I was only strong enough to keep my back to him and watch Matt's face to understand what was happening.  He was gray.  He was limp.  And, he didn't look alive. I remember other staff members offering me a chair and water.  I remember the look in their eye, the look that said a million "I'm sorry's" for what was about to happen.  I knew it was happening.   There was a window a few feet away that had a lovely view of a parking garage.  I paced back and forth from Matts chair to the window chanting to God, "Please don't take my baby.  Please don't take my baby.  Please don't take my baby," over and over and over again.   I heard the doctor say that he had 15 minutes to come around or they were air lifting him to another hospital, I also heard that he wouldn't survive that flight.  I wanted to believe he would survive but I could read the monitors and I could see what he looked like and so I asked someone if I should call the family... and they said yes.  This sounds crazy but in that moment I felt relieved.   Relieved that I had a task.  Relieved that I could possibly not be in the room to watch him die.  Or possibly even that by  my leaving, he could go because I had a feeling that little boy was fighting so hard for his Mama.  I don't know what the relief was but I felt something and a huge rush of adrenaline.  A crazy rush, almost like someone injected something directly into me.  I was shaking, my brain was racing, I felt outside my body and I remember it so well.  I left the unit and went into the parent room where my sister was waiting and told her to "Call the family.  Pack up the room.  This is it."  Thats all I said.  I cannot even imagine what was going through her mind.  As she started to call my parents, I made one call to my mother-in-law and just said "You need to come here now," no other questions were asked.  I went back into the unit to watch my baby pass.  As difficult as that is to type or say, its truly what I thought was going to happen.  I braced myself.  I had only been gone about 3 minutes but something happened while I was gone.  The stats had stopped dropping.  They were still bagging him and working fiercely but things looked like they weren't deteriorating further.  I held onto Matt and watched.  All of a sudden, numbers were rising.  He was less gray.  Someone smiled.  Voices lowered.  I don't know who said it, but someone said, "He's ok.  For right now."  I PROMISE YOU, there is absolutely, positively no reason that happened.  Nothing changed in those last 3 minutes.  It was a miracle.  Divine Intervention.  An extraordinary event.  A life changing moment.  

We stayed with our son for another thirty minutes while they got him hooked back up to all of his regular machines and then we walked out to see an entire waiting room of our loved ones waiting to hear the terrible news.  Waiting to try to offer support in a darkest hour.  I couldn't speak.  Matt couldn't speak without crying. I did finally blurt out that he was Ok until we got our bearings and Matt told the story of our little fighters biggest fight.

This upcoming date was hard for me last year.  I was unexpectedly really sad on May 21.  I didn't realize the weight it held still to this day.  Mainly because Easton's fight was far from over after this episode.  He actually had several other close calls but this was the first and the worst.  It was nothing short of life changing.  My beliefs, my faith, my priorities and my soul all changed on the evening of May 21, 2011.  Easton is my hero.  He may only be two years old but he is the strongest, most willful human being I have ever met.  I can only dream of having half his strength one day.  I will forever be grateful for the life lessons my 3 day old son taught me.  He changed my world, my family and my life.  This year, I'm going to try not to be sad on May 21, rather think of it as the day I witnessed a living, breathing miracle.