Letters to Olive from Daddy

1/23/2014:


Hey little girl,



There's so much that I can't articulate floating around in the ether.  Those breaths we breathe in and out and so many people mostly just take for granted.  All of the tiny chemical processes occurring between simple expansions and contractions.  Most never think of what a privilege it is to breathe easy. 

In that space we shared together I had to watch you fight.  Every breath a victory, with synthetic tubes plugged in to every limb and orifice.  It was all supposed to simulate what you couldn't get naturally anymore because your mother's placenta abrupted.  There are so many other medical terminologies to spout off like learning a new language.

SAT.  DeSAT.  Intubate.  Echocardiogram.  And so on.  And so forth. 

You breathe through the tubes anyway and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  Outside, the world is steadily inhaling and exhaling and keeping all of us grown-ups on schedule.  My alarm clock buzzes way too early in order to remind me that there's bread on the table.  Yours sounds the alarm when you've finished all the breast milk they dish out to you in small doses every three hours like some organic drug.

But you're growing, and to be honest, it's hard for me to think about you during the day at work because I can't quite keep it together anymore if I do.  I come undone. 

You are more courageous than I've ever been.

Just because you are breathing.



                                                                     Love,
                                                                      
                                                                      Daddy.