An Emotional Day

Some days kick me in the ass. Today was one of those days.

I can’t get into details about patients on my blog, but as a palliative care doc, I often encounter emotionally challenging cases. I am deeply involved in one of them right now; walking the road with this particularly young, vibrant family is hitting closer to home than usual. As always, it is riddled with challenges but also with a sense of privilege and an offering of clairvoyancey. I have extra energy for “play” with my own kids these days and a little less patience for the day-to-day annoyances that hold us back from what truly matters.

Add to this the fact that it is Remembrance Day; a day that rightly enough reminds me of my Grandfather, a proud WWII vet who always played the Last Post on his bugle at the annual Remembrance Day Ceremony. We lost him when I was in Grade 9, but he is ever a part of all that I do.

So what a day for my baby cousin to have a stat C-section. The news was met with concern for her, followed by excitement about the pending arrival, followed by a somber reflection as to the significance of our newest family member joining us on 11/11. As we do in our family, we threw the complexity of our sentiments into making jokes about having to name the baby “Irvin” in honour of my Grandfather as we waited impatiently for the news. I am happy to report that all went well – and (THANK GOODNESS) it was a baby girl so we DON’T have to name her Irvin after all…

Now- - you think I’m done with mixed emotions? Think again.

Mia is JUST about to turn 10 months old. A fantastic age, but one that brings with it my own emotionally charged sentiments. I’ve never enjoyed the “Tenth Month” before. My memories of Toby’s developmental milestones end abruptly with his intubation and his week long stint on life support. It all started just days after his 10-month birthday. As Mia approaches this stage I notice her doing similar thing to what Toby did- she is cruising with determination and babbling constantly in an attempt to communicate with us. This weekend she climbed the stairs for the first time; last night she walked around the coffee table using only one finger for support.

I VIVIDLY remember myself telling the Sick Kids ICU nurses how Toby had been doing just that the night before he was admitted to hospital. We were gearing up for his first steps one day and longing to see him breathe on his own one week later.

Tonight, on the way home from daycare, as I was struggling to keep all that I had dealt with already that day in check, Toby launched into his usual RANT about Gochar that ended in an offhanded remark that Gochar’s brother had died.

(Some days I really can’t stand Gochar.)

I turned to Toby and said to him, “Toby, you know, that’s SAD. Gochar’s brother dying is something that is SAD, not something just to say when you’re making silly statements. How would you feel if your sister Mia died?”

Toby stopped his babbling INSTANTLY and for ONCE IN HIS LIFE was at a loss for words.

(I immediately felt guilty. In hindsight this was WAY too heavy of a statement to make but I really didn’t think he was listening…)

“Mommy.” He said seriously, “That’s NOT…well…Mommy -- Mia CAN’T die.”

He struggled to find the words to what he was finding a frustrating conversation,

“Don’t you KNOW, Mommy? Babies DON’T die!!!” he finally yelled at me in exasperation.

I left it at that.

Toby will never understand why I burst into tears just then. It was perhaps a mixture of relief that my cousin’s baby had arrived safely and my own sense vulnerability. Or maybe the nostalgia for that level of innocence; I wish with all of my heart that he could be right. Babies should never die. And neither should the Mommies of young babies.

But the predominant feeling is that of gratitude; how lucky I am that I can just leave it at that and let him believe…