Over the years I have watched you in awe, or maybe in fasciation.
From your first tiny movements, the smiles, your ability to except your fate.
All traits that have moulded you, into you.
Some of these characteristics I have seen before within your genetic gene pool, but others are unique to you.
Your ability to think before you act,
Your ability to understand emotions and subtly comfort,
Your ability to understand your mind,
Your ability to err on the side of caution.
So mature and refined considering your age.
Sometimes it makes me feel like you’ve been here before.
Sometimes I wonder if you would have been this way anyway or is it related to the gift of life.
An old soul within a child’s body.
As the midnight bell chimed, we walk quietly through the low lite corridor.
The procession, being led by a night nurse who was pulling Billy’s bed, followed by the rest of us marching behind knowing what the next 24 hours meant.
All geared up, with adrenaline pumping and mind busy.
All watching the prize and knowing he’s blissfully unaware of the magnitude of this event.
As he sat in his huge bed, he’s just smiling over the top of his oversized hospital gown amused that he couldn’t see his hands.
Just Laughing contently to himself, without a care in the world.
As the by standers are wondering if this would be the blessing or the last hurrah.
As we descended the levels and the doors opened, to an unfamiliar part of the hospital, with no sense of time.
Until we stopped at a set of doors, some of the team started to filter in as a couple hung back to calmly reassure us that Billy was in safe hand.
We nodded, with a hand on my back and a hand pointed at Billy was the que to say good bye.
The anaesthetist took Billy from our arms and carried him through the double doors chatting to him.
As the doors shut, the sound faded and only the sound of the transplant co-ordinator remained.
Listening, but not listening.
Still watching the doors,
savouring the image,
remember his touch,
his smell,
his personality,
his smile.
So, finial, so uncertain, so new.
After a while of savouring the moment, it was time to move, put one foot in front of the other.
Which was more difficult than you think, especially as the walk in was a blur and directions escaped us.
After we made it back to Ronald McDonalds house, we both feel asleep quickly.
The lead up to this point, the last 6 months to be exact, had been very stressful and adrenaline fuelled.
So, the crash was inevitable.
Throughout the night we received updates on the surgical team’s progress.
Mostly positive, but there were a few difficulties around the retained fluid within Billy’s abdominal.
The 2 and half litres of fluid had turned into a jellylike substance, that made the area hard to work with.
After around 9 hours of surgery, we got the finial call to say we could visit Billy in the ICU.
The update was positive, but it was early days.
Alec and I put our best foot forward and made our way over to visit just before ward round at 10.00am.
We managed to have a couple of minutes with Billy before being ushered out for ward round.
Over the next 2 weeks, Billy blossomed Infront of our eyes.
It was like his birth clock had been re-started, but this time in the right direction.
Instead of wilting, he was growing.
All powered by Organ Donation.
For Billy, his hero inside was gifted by a 36-year-old women.
At times, I do wonder what she was like, her traits, her characteristics and more distressingly, what occurred for her to gain her wings so prematurely.
All vital information that cannot be obtained without permission.
But what I do know, she did believe in second chances and selfless acts.
On the night of this selfless act, I wonder if some magic was transferred within this intermate exchange.
Does a little bit of her live on in Billy.
Maybe his old soul.
Or does she stay close to him, protecting him.
His guardian angel.
As always, there are more questions than answers.
For me this guardian angel has become an old friend.
We often watch Billy together, silently chatting.
Taking it all in and archiving the memories.
Often beaming with proudness and sometimes briming with frustration.
Hoping we are doing you proud.
Hoping you’re listen.
Forever grateful.
Remember you may not feel strong but you are
Love
The Rose-Tinted Mum
The Rose Tinted mum 