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I am meeting Noah’s kidney recipient on Saturday and have so much hope and fear around this. Part of my son, the life that formed inside me, the life I nurtured for 7 years, is in this woman. Literally. Stop and think about that for just a minute. Part of Noah is literally living and working inside someone else. I am excited to meet her because I hate that she is a stranger. I need to know who she is – her family, her story. Perhaps I am looking for a reason somewhere: a reason why Noah had to leave this earth. And I know I will not find it in just one place, but I look for the big pieces to give me strength. I know that the moment his consciousness left his body, the focus of energy that made up his potential in this life was dispersed into the far-flung corners of all reality. I wonder if the legacy, the ripples he has created by touching the lives of so many others, is bigger now because his body is gone. Had he lived, would he just be another kid in his class? Another citizen of the world and the universe of billions of beings? Another schmo just trying to make his way in this life?
Of course, I would have rather had him grow up, struggle like the rest of us, be just another face you might see on the street. But that’s just my selfishness asserting itself, because I’m thinking of my own pain. If Noah had the choice, which I believe that on some level he did, he would have wanted to be bigger; to create the biggest possible positive change at whatever the cost. Even if it made Mommy sad, the payoff would be so much bigger. And Mommy would eventually see that.
So, the rest of my life, or at least a part of it, is a kind of treasure hunt. It’s a bunny that sits in the backyard staring at me as I watch him from across the lawn for an hour. It’s a mother, daughter, sister and friend who is now healthy because a part of my son has replenished her very existence. It is all the nurses who so lovingly cared for Noah, then went home to hug and spoil their own children. It is all the tears, the sadness of everyone: Noah’s family, teachers, friends, parents of friends, doctors, nurses, specialists, surgeons, fellow officers, readers / listeners of the story of his life and the transformation that that continually manifests in those people.
It is every time I say his name: Noah Michael Davis. I honor him.
The knowledge that my little boy has created so much positive change in the world in such a small amount of time is so powerful that it’s overwhelming sometimes. I don’t know where to put all of it. The emotions and reactions surrounding this knowledge ebb and flow and fight each other inside of me at all times. I’m proud that he found a way to be such a positive force in so many lives, but I’m angry and miserable that I had to say goodbye to “my baby.” I’m jealous that he has done all of this when, after 36 years on this earth, I am still just trying to begin to understand how I might create what he has so easily accomplished. My humanity and motherhood just wants to hold him again. Watch him grow. But my soul, my heart, knows that he is working and fulfilling his purpose. He’s not gone. Just gone from my sight and my arms. This is another battle that is constantly underway within me. I know the sides that I WANT to win in these little constant wars within but when the guilt starts to bubble up, I hold fast to my Mothers’ Heart and I cannot let him go.
These little battles are what make it so hard to get out of bed some days. To care about paying bills, making dinner, going to work or even just going on with any kind of life can be so difficult. So I try to remember that his soul is still doing it’s work and mine needs to continue in my work, whatever that is or means. And maybe he’s given me the gift of a purpose within all of this. Maybe not. But I cannot ignore the possibility, so I continue searching for Noah’s treasures in the world and within me.
I read about Noah on CaringBridge. Left you messages then and still look for updates on your blog. The week it happened, my 6-old boy and I registered with the National Health Insurance after having moved to the UK and received a little card where you would tick YES or NO for organ donations for him and I.
Selfish as mummys are, I would have always ticked the NO button before, as it is unimaginable that anything like this could happen. But because of Noah, I said yes, convinced my hubby that it was the right thing to do and sent it away. My adult kids did the same.
Because of Noah.
That is just wonderful. Thank you so much for telling me this – and for ticking that “Yes” box! My little man would be thrilled to know that he has been such an inspiration. Thank you. Thank you so much for remembering and for honoring Noah.
Sara, I’m not sure if you remember me; we went to school together. I even remember spending the night at your house once (by Laurel&350). Anyway, I came across this from fb surfing this morning and I wanted to extend my condolences. As I have 3 children, one being a 6 year old boy, I can’t imagine the path you’ve had to go down. Some of us face something so tragic in life that we think we can never get past it or recover from it after. Seeing your fb page and your blog, the way you are speaking to people all over the world (seeing it too); is something only select few can achieve in life. Thru your tragedy, it seems you’ve also blossomed into something greater. I can’t be for sure, because I don’t know you in real life anymore, just what I can see in the virtual world. My best wishes for you and your family for for all the greatness you have yet to encounter. I’ve always been an organ donor on my license and encouraged my daughter to do the same when she got hers. Its absolutely the best we can do for others once we’re gone in the physical world. And thanks for taking me to Italy this morning, as it’s the first place I would go, if I could. 🙂