Montie's Birthday

Today is Montie's 12th birthday. We're celebrating his birth & life without him, because he went to Heaven March 19th, 2009. He'd just had his 13th operation, the 7th he'd had on his back to lengthen rods he'd had implanted to correct severe scoliosis. He'd been so happy to come home the night before that as I got him changed into his favorite red snowman pjs, he gave me a quick kiss on my left cheek. Montie was definitely a hugger but not so much a kisser, so it was something special to be remembered!

I'd been up with him over night. He & I camped out in the family room: he on the couch & I on the floor, a roaring fire stoked throughout the night... we were cozy together, but he was in a lot of pain off and on. The last time I'd been up with him would've been around 5am. He had his pain pill, a drink, changed positions, and we'd talked a little. And while I waited for him to fall asleep, I lay there listening to the fire, thinking about what I had to remember to do in the next few hours when the house awakened, and I thought I heard Montie say something. I even asked, "What'd you say, Bud?" No response... and I thought I heard him utter something again, and again, no response. Initially this made me smile to myself because I thought he was dozing off & that the pain pill had kicked in -he'd been dozing off mid-sentence a lot while in the hospital... But all of a sudden the realization & utter horror kicked in that I couldn't hear his heart. And I digress.... he'd had two mechanical valves put in several years prior, so his valves sounded like a loud wristwatch that said, "tick-tick-tick...", but I heard absolute silence. The moments it took me to crawl over to him are still ingrained in my head in slow motion.. and I felt his chest & there was nothing....

Someone at the grocery store recently told me losing her dog was like losing a child... sigh.. I could just look at her in dumb silence. Because I've lost several beloved pets that I cried over, and I can vouch for the fact that it is nothing like losing Montie... Montie & I shared Star Wars, Indiana Jones, sushi, snuggling in bed to read aloud to one another, pj days, making smores on the stovetop, "walks" on which he actually  rode his red scooter & I'd have to run to catch up to his laughing smile, collecting autumn leaves, breakfast in bed on his birthday, holding hands, and I could go on & on.

My children aren't just my kids, they're my best friends & companions. In my heart I know Montie is soaring with God with no more pain, no more limited mobility, no more surgeries, headaches or health issues & restored to perfect health, but I'm just a selfish human being. I still want Montie here with me sitting in my lap, asking for the umpteenth time, "How many subjects are we doing today?", calling to me in the middle of the night to massage his headache away, talking away with his online PS3 friends, begging for more time with them....

Montie had Marfan Syndrome... it's a connective tissue disorder & he was born on the severe end of the spectrum. The majority of Marfan patients live a normal life span with proper medical care, however because Montie's symptoms were so severe to begin with, his Dad & I always feared we were living on borrowed time with him. And so for those 10 years we had, we're forever grateful... all of my children have changed me as a person & a parent in their own way, and Montie continues to leave a very special imprint on my heart....