I remember that it was on David's birthday, and I remember being concerned that we balance the need to focus on the new baby along with his birthday. (I also remember that the birthday party, a superhero themed party, no less, took place two days before Sam was born in my need to get things done "before the baby comes.")
I remember that I stayed up nearly all night holding him, wrapped in a hot, uncomfortable, ever-so-slightly humming bili-blanket to make sure that his bilirubin level would be appropriate for the brit milah. I remember ripping open the velcro at about 5am, exhausted and frustrated and figuring that he'd probably gotten enough...
But I really don't remember much about the bris.
It is a blur in my memory, a day that seems so long ago.
I know that we said things like "you are the embodiment of your parents' hopes and dreams, you are the future realized." I know that we said something like that because that's what we say at all of these events. I know that we meant it. I know that we were so grateful for a healthy baby, that we knew damn well how things can go wrong.
What would we have done differently if we had known....? It is impossible to answer.
At that moment, I know that I never imagined what was to come.
If you had told me, I would not have believed you.
And if you had given me the chance to give it all up, to have never known Sam in order to spare us all this heartbreak....I would not take it.
The twisting inside me when I think about how much hope and love were present at the moment of his birth, the moment of his covenant...is unbearable. To know that his life just ended eight years after it began....is unfathomable.
But I would not take it back.
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