I do not write poetry, but today I decided to put down my thoughts on paper (okay it was a Word document) and it turned into poems. Here is what I wrote:

Aiden

For nine months we waited,
For nine months we prayed,
You’d be here with us
And forever you’d stay.

We had our dreams,
And wishes for you.
Days at the park,
And trips to the zoo.

Then that day came,
Our day to meet you,
And everything changed,
Right out of the blue.

Your heart rate was falling,
Something was wrong.
They raced to help you,
And did all that they could.

We held out hope that you would be strong.
That you would breathe,
And carry on.

For three short days,
You fought so hard,
You tried to stay forever more.

Then they told us the horrible news,
“He won’t improve,”
“He’ll never move.”

“He’ll never walk.”
“He’ll never talk.”
“He’ll never change.”
“He’ll forever stay the same.”

We knew right then, we’d miss you so.
We knew right then, we’d let you go.

For two more days you were with us still.
You met your family,
Your Grams and Gramps.
You met your Uncles,
Although no Aunts.

Then it was time to let you go.
The wires removed.
The tubes disconnected.

Though no longer were you trying to breathe,
Your heart still kept beating,
You did not want to leave.

We held you.
We rocked you.
We gave you our love.
We told you stories.
We gave you advice.

Still you held on,
Not ready to go.
You gave us four hours,
You fought long and hard.

As your life faded,
We told you to go.
You’d finally have peace
And be able to rest.

We’ll love you forever,
We’ll never forget.

A Lifetime Lived in Days

Tiny Hands, Tiny Feet,
so perfect in every way.

You tried so hard,
And fought so strong,
But you had to go.

A lifetime lived in days.

We held you,
And loved you,
And then we let you go.

A lifetime lived in days.

We’ll always remember,
We’ll never forget,
How perfect you were,
Or how much we love you.

A lifetime lived in days.

One month ago today was the most difficult day of my entire life.
After nine months of planning, wishing, dreaming and hoping, my son, Aiden Thomas was born on December 10, 2004. He was delivered by emergency c-section because of a very low heart-rate. At birth he had no heart rate. They were able to restore his heartbeat, and he was taken to the Infant Special Care Unit. Aiden had seisures shortly after birth, and he was on a respirator and tubes for feeding and medication. EEG’s were performed to check for brain function as well as other tests. One month ago today, the doctors told us that Aiden’s brain functions were such that there was little to no hope that he would ever be able to go home. The best case that they could project was that one day he might be able to breathe on his own. That was the best case. He would never walk, he would never talk, he would never be able to feed himself or live without machines.
Long before Nicole and I ever started trying to have a baby we talked about several concerns, not least of which was that her family had a history of pre-mature birth, and that her great-grandmother had been born with only one kidney, and that the genetic trait that caused that, could cause a child to have no kidneys, a condition which is invariably fatal. We knew that with her arthritis, it might not be possible for her to go off her medication long enough to become pregnant and carry a baby to term. We knew we wanted children, and we knew that it may not be possible for us to have children that were our own biologically. We decided that, if for whatever reason, we were unable to have a child biologically, we would adopt, and that if we were to adopt, we would try to adopt a special-needs child. Additionally we had discussed our own desires for ourselves regarding life-support. Neither of us believes that living as part of a machine is living. All of this is to say that we had thought about the risks of pregnancy, the possiblity of life with a brain-damaged child, and our feelings about life support long before we were in the situation where we had to make these decisions.
Could we do less for our own child than for another, or for ourselves. We would happily sacrifice whatever we had to in order to raise a child with special needs and to give them the best life possible, and had there been a chance that Aiden could have lived a real life, we would have given him that chance. But at the same time we knew that what small chance of being medically alive for a longer time he had, was not worth the sacrifice on his part that it would entail. We could not make our baby live as merely a part of a machine.
Aiden passed away on December 15th. As you notice, this was not the day that was the most difficult for me, because I learned more from my 5 day old son, as he left this life, and in the time since than I had in the 27 years of my own life before. In the five days we had, I learned the meaning of love. I love my wife with all my heart, my mind, and my soul. My world revolves around her. I love my parents. They have given me more than I could repay in a hundred lifetimes. I love my brother. He shows me another version of the world than I could see with my own eyes, allowing twice as much beauty into my life as I might have otherwise. I love friends, and I love my cats. But all of these loves combined pale in comparison to the love I have for my son. It is not a love that surpasses these other loves in my life but completes them. It makes them grow and take on dimensions that could not have existed before. Now I don’t just love my wife as my wife, but also as the mother of my son. My parents are now grandparents to my son, and my brother is an uncle. My love is fuller than I could have imagined. (more…)

My brother wrote this.

The world abounds with phrases, sayings, and quasi-philosophical remarks as to how to deal with the loss of a loved one. Ever since Cain and Abel, humanity has tried to grasp our own mortality and cope with its reality. Most of have lost somebody- everybody before us has lost somebody. “The sweet wouldn’t be as sweet without the sour.” “Only after you’ve seen darkness can you appreciate the light.” “He’s in a better place now.” None of it means anything when you’re holding him in his arms and saying “It isn’t fair.” It doesn’t help to know that other people have lost loved ones or that things will get better. Better parents couldn’t exist. A more beautiful boy couldn’t be born. Everything was done right- carefully. Nothing could be changed. Nothing could have been more carefully watched but he’s gone. It’s not fair to know that drug addicts, uncaring parents, and others can have a child but a loving, caring, perfect family cannot. All of this, and I’m not complaining. None of this is a complaint. I got to hold him. I got to talk with him. Sean and Nicole got to tell him stories, give him advice, and be the best parents a little boy could ever have. He was only with us for a few days but in those few days, he had more love, more affection, more care and devotion than many people experience in an exponentially longer lifespan. Aiden’s life was short but beautiful. 4 1/2 days wasn’t enough. But it was something. Loss hurts and that’s part of life. Don’t deny the fact that it tears you up inside. If you never touch it, it will never make you stronger. He had a good life and we helped make sure of that. He is still loved and he is still in our hearts. There are scads of photos and memories. The only trite phrase that pertains to this situation of which I actually approve is “Life goes on.” And it does. Longer for some than for others but it goes on. What matters is if you look at this loss as a source of anger, bitterness, strife, joy, knowledge, or power. It can be all of them. But pick what you like and keep it. Use it. Just because he isn’t laying in his crib doesn’t mean he’s not with us. He’s with his parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles and he’s with you. He will be missed. He will be loved. And most importantly- he will be remembered.
Always.

There will be a Memorial Service for Aiden Thomas on Wednesday, December 22nd at 6:15pm. The service will be held at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Downtown Chicago. If you feel that you would like to do something in Aiden’s honor, we are asking that any donations be made to the Greater Chicago Chapter of the Arthritis Foundation.
We have also posted some more pictures on the photos page.

We have posted photos of Aiden on the Photos page.

Aiden Thomas passed away on December 15th, 2004. He was 5 days old. They were the 5 hardest, most beautiful days of our lives.
We would like to thank everyone who has expressed their love for all of us, and who made his short life so full. The support, love and prayers that we have recieved have been more than we could ask for.
If you would like to do something in honor of Aiden, we are asking that any donations be made to The Arthritis Foundation.
We will post pictures, and more information soon.

On Friday morning Nicole woke with back pain and cramps, we called the midwife, and suspected it was early labor, although there was no coming and going of the pain, like you would expect from contractions. After giving it some time, and a few calls back and forth whith the midwife with updates, she decided that we should come in and see how things were progressing. We met the midwife at her office at 10:00am, at that time she did some fetal monitoring and got a very low heartrate, at which time she said we needed to go to the hospital right away (the hospital is attached to the office) When we got to Labor and Delivery, they confirmed the low heartrate and decided to do an emergency C-Section. At 10:46am Aiden was born. Due to placental seperation, his blood gasses were very low and he had no heartbeat, they were able to revive him very quickly, and he is now in the Infant Special Care Unit. They are still monitoring him and he is on a respirator. They have performed an MRI and will have the full results from that and other tests tomorrow morning. At this time there is not a lot that they are able to determine. Nicole is doing well. She is up and about and eating well.
We would like to express our apprecition to the entire staff of Labor and Delivery, as well as the Infant Special Care Unit and all of the Nursing staff at the women’s hospital.
I will probably not update again, at least untill Nicole comes home (most likely tuesday.) Please keep Aiden in your thoughts and prayers in the upcoming weeks as he recovers from an exciting entry to the world and we see what the future holds for him. Thank you.

Aiden Thomas Evans was delivered by emergency C-section at 10:46am December 10th 2004. He weighed 7lb 14oz, was 21 inches long and is in Intensive Care right now. Mama is doing just fine. Geoff posted this one and Sean will be posting more information when he comes home in the next day or two.