I left the morning of the 21st to take the girls on a birthday trip to New York and have some meetings with Children’s Rights. When I left Auggie was smiling. Happy. Squirmy.
And I kissed his fat cheeks and told him I loved him as we hurried out the door.
That night Auggie became lethargic and unresponsive. He was taken to the hospital where he seemed to rebound a bit. He was then set to be transferred to the large children’s hospital. While in the ambulance, en route, Auggie’s heart stopped. They did CPR and diverted to a closer hospital to get immediate care for him.
Auggie never regained consciousness.
We are awaiting results to determine cause of death. But right now, it seems that Auggie
had a virus attack his heart. And he just wasn’t strong enough to fight it off.
I was on the phone in a New York City hotel room listening to doctors and nurses administer epi-shots and use a defibrillator on my precious boy. I was on the phone when the doctor came over to Nigel, who was with Auggie, to let us know that they had done everything they could. And that he was so sorry.
The girls and I packed up and left for the airport within an hour or so. And found ourselves back home by 10AM on the 22nd.
Today is still the 22nd.
Auggie died today.
I didn’t want to be this person.
The person whose child died before them.
But I am.
I was so angry at first. And then sad. And then angry again.
From what I understand, this will continue for awhile.
I want to get stuck in this question. And I really can. But the true answer is that I am not excused from pain. Neither was Auggie. Or you. None of us are.
Now we try to heal. We cry. We laugh.
We tell Auggie stories.
Because there are no new Auggie stories to be made.
And that crushes me.
We plan a funeral.
And I hope everyone will come and celebrate this miraculous life.
Right now, I want to know Auggie’s life had meaning. That there is purpose.
For me, Auggie changed my world.
He is singularly responsible for challenging my faith daily.
He tested my patience. He tested my ability to function on two hours of sleep.
Auggie made me smile. And cry. A lot.
He made me brave.
I am grateful for this brief little life that blessed our family.
I will miss him. His smile. His squawk. His beautiful face.