Perspective

Perspective-  True understanding of the relative importance of things; a sense of proportion- from the Oxford English Dictionary

Yesterday, I found myself being extra thankful for where we are right now. You may find that statement odd, given that we are in one of the hardest places a parent can imagine, yet I stand by my thankfulness anyway.

I attribute this to perspective. Some of you might identify- if you’ve been reading this blog or following our story on Facebook, you may have found yourselves holding your children just a little closer, kissing your sweet newborn’s cheeks just a little more thoughtfully. If nothing else comes out of our experiences other than our friends and family appreciating their lives and families more, it will have been worthwhile. Watching someone else go through a difficult time can impart an appreciation and awareness of how much there is to celebrate and be thankful for in our own lives in ways that we would never otherwise experience- if we allow it, of course. 

Likewise, I sat in our PCICU room with my sleeping son nestled in the crook of my arm and kissed his little forehead, grateful for all the positive things that have happened to him, because I was viscerally confronted with how many things could go sideways and what the stakes are. 

PCICU for the last 3 weeks or so has been virtually indistinguishable from any other floor of sick patients. Nurses and doctors come in and out, machines scream-beep at you intermittently, and only occasionally is there an emergent situation. The string of relatively calm days came to an abrupt end when one of the babies, after being in PCICU for over 5 months, died after what seemed to be hours of continuous efforts on the part of surgeons, nurses, and doctors to sustain him. 

Just the whirlwind of medical personnel briskly moving around in OR scrubs and the tell-tale white light illuminating the room is enough to take your breath, but getting a glimpse through the curtain of parents rocking a child unattached to wires in a quiet room will rip a hole in your heart. It will send a shiver down your spine and it will have you appreciating whatever situation you are in that is better than the one those parents were in yesterday. 

It’s a little surprising, living in such tight quarters with 15 other families, how little we interact with one another. In this instance, we had been neighbors with this little one for over 2 weeks before being moved further down the hall- I’d met his grandmother once and only seen his parents in passing or through the window which connected our rooms and yet, yesterday, I was privy to their immense grief, albeit just for a handful of seconds.

Just around the corner, there were 3 sets of PCICU parents chatting amiably as if nothing awful was happening less than 15 paces from where they stood. I wondered if they knew what had happened and just didn’t want to confront how easily it could be them or perhaps they were just oblivious to the outcome of all that bustle a few doors down. After all, we are each in the middle of our own crisis in that ward.

That tends to be the way of it outside wards like PCICU, too. This world is both passively and actively shitty and sometimes so much so that we choose to either ignore the ugliness or are so wrapped up in our own suffering that we are blind to it in the lives of others. 

I am guilty of this along with everyone else. I have turned off the radio when NPR begins talking, yet again, about how many children were killed in a chemical weapon attack. I feel helpless when I hear about kids being ripped from the arms of their parents, whose only fault was to believe they could find shelter in a country that only until a little while ago welcomed the “tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Perspective is a bracing cold shower. We have to choose to step in to that space and find our place in its context. 

So today, please say a prayer for the family that lost their little boy and hug your kids and your loved ones a bit extra- take them out for ice cream. Go fly a kite or toss a ball in the park. Breathe in the sweet, summer air and be thankful for all the goodness in your life. I know I will.