with hands

Every Thursday I look back at a specific day and time that was spent with my daughter Matilda as she waited for, received, and recovered from a liver transplant. She was in the hospital for 72 days and we remained in NYC until she turned four months old.

October 30th, 2012 - with hands



Matilda was off the transplant list because of an infection. The day was long and full of tears. Our hearts were heavy, not only for us, but for so many who were grieving the loss of relatives, homes, landmarks, and memories. The city was in distress and the feeling in the air was grim.

There was nothing I could do.

I spent a lot of time praying. And that always brought me comfort along with the feeling that I was accomplishing something. But sometimes, I needed to let go and let other people do the praying for me. Sometimes I was too in the thick of things to make any sense of my thoughts, let alone my prayers.

"I need you, they need you, I know you are here, I can feel you, I love Matilda, I miss Parker. I am blessed, please continue to bless my family. Please give me strength. Please save Matilda." My prayers ran in circles and felt heavier by the minute.

I had been making Matilda a Halloween costume. I had asked my sister to send some felt, a pair of scissors, and a hot glue gun. I didn't want Matilda to miss her first Halloween and the thought that it might be her only one haunted me. But when the storm hit, and everything started to spiral downhill, I stopped. I stopped making with my hands because I was afraid. I was afraid that I would finish it and she would be gone. I was afraid.

I was exhausted, I could not stop crying, but slowly I began to cut, plan, and glue. And just like that, the air in the room slowly began to shift from sorrow to hope. People came in with smiles and questions of what I was doing instead of frowns and questions of how we were holding up. There was a shift and, as I began to feel it, it brought me hope. I could do something. I could make Matilda's last days full of happiness and love. I could make.

And so I did.

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