Day 52 and a half

I cried when I woke up this morning. Just a little more intense than yesterday morning when I also cried. I made breakfast and showered, crying non stop. Wessel tried to comfort me and I told him I can't stop crying. The nurse phoned and I knew Tabitha's time had come. I wept all the way to the hospital. Wessel asked me to tell him how I feel. I said I'm fine but I know the end has come. Its like the Lord has prepared me by starting to mourn. We were not anxious or afraid and I thank God that He has answered our prayers. 

The doctor said that Tabitha was not looking good, they suspected that she had a blocked artery in her lower body because her legs were pale and her upper body reddish. I just wanted to see her and kiss her as much as possible. Her oxygen settings were high at 85%. I could see she wanted to leave us for a better place. We had to discuss what to do with the doctors, who gave her a light dose of morphine so that she can go without pain. The doctor suggested that we take her off the Sipap machine to speed up the process, because it could be hours or even days. Wessel made it clear that we don't want to do anything close to euthanasia, so doing something like that we felt would be too drastic. If God wants to take her He can do it while she is still on the machine. 

She started crying uncontrollably so we tried to calm her down by touching her head firmly and tapping her bum. She always liked that. Then I picked her up and she was very calm and seemed content. The sonar lady came with the machine and they took a sonar of her tummy to see if there is a blocked artery. They found none. Wessel took photos of us and the nurse took photos of the three of us. I asked them to take the line out of her mouth where she received her feeds. I also asked them to draw the curtains so that we could have some privacy. It wasn't long when I felt and saw that her chest stopped moving. I told Wessel that she had stopped breathing. It wasn't apnea. Her breath didn't come back. I asked the nurse to take the Sipap contraption off her face so that I could kiss her and appreciate her pretty face for the last time. The monitor still picked up her heart beat for quite some time. It was very slow until it finally came to a stop. I don't know how much time had lapsed since I picked her up or how long it took for her heart to stop. I just tried to soak up the precious last moments with her. I stroked her head and kissed her and felt her feet and hands. Wessel did too. Our tears would fall on her little body, slowly turning colder. But her skin was just as soft as always. She was so peaceful. And although we were crying and heartbroken, we had peace as well. I told Wessel this is what we have asked for. That God would not prolong her suffering. That we would not have to make the decision. That it would not be dragged out. But holding your dying child in your arms is the hardest thing I've ever done. But I'm glad that I had the opportunity. I'm so glad that we could have a limited time with her, and be blessed by her short existence here on earth.

Wessel wanted to hold her little body. I took photos. When we were ready we put her back in her bed so that the nurses could take out the drips and stickers and everything else. They also bathed her and dressed her. She is wearing a beautiful pink babygrow with butterflies. 

We went downstairs and had lunch. Then we could go up and see her again for the last time, on earth that is. She looked beautiful. I picked her up, wrapped in her blanket. For the first time I could hold a 'cordless' baby and sus her, without worrying about some attachment hurting her. I held her head close to my face and stroked her hair with my cheeks, the way I always did when I kangaroo'd her. It felt just as lovely. We packed all her things and took some more time to say goodbye to her. We know she is with Jesus already, with a perfect body and happier than she could ever be here on earth. She has gone before us. And one day we will be reunited with her again. Tabitha. Grace and beauty. Our oldest daughter and greatest blessing. 

Some people will say, and have already asked the question. Why would God give you a child and then take her away again? I don't know all the answers, but the scope of the profound influence her short little life has had on people we will probably never know. She has been a blessing for so many people, especially to us, her parents. We have grown closer together during this time, closer to our friends and family, and also closer to God. Her life was not in vain.

As human beings we always try to find a happy ending to all stories. We try and fairy tale everything. But then this seems like a sad ending.  Its not the end. This life is not the end of the story. Can you also see it? She never set foot outside the hospital, and her adventures comprised of visits to theatre. Operating theatres, that is. Most of the people who loved her dearly, never got to meet her.  Only God could think to use a little girl, not even 2 months old and weighing only two and a half kg's, to teach grown ups about Him, build their characters, show them what is important in life and give them hope. I pray that you will also experience the peace that only God can give in His Son, Jesus. I pray that you will also find strength to handle your challenges in this life. And I pray that your life will also give glory to God the way that Tabitha's life did. 

I will miss you my precious daughter. I'm sure I'll cry many more mornings on waking up. I'm sure I'll spend many days in the room you never got to sleep in, missing you, longing to hold you and kiss you again. You will always be our oldest daughter and mommy and daddy are very proud of you. Enjoy sitting on Jesus' lap and playing fun games with other children in heaven, where you'll know no lack, pain or tears. We love you.

Ps. This might not be the end of this blog quite yet. I will post more thoughts if I feel like sharing them, and I might post more photos. We are planning a memorial service for Tabitha on Saturday here in Joburg somewhere. I will post the time and place tomorrow. Anybody who loved her is welcome.