It’s been 5 years since our last day with our baby boy. I remember in my endless reading of child loss blogs how 5 years seemed to be the turning point for most parents. Not that the pain would go away but that it would shift. I remember both wanting that 5 years to come so that I could finally exhale, but also hating every day that passed without Finn and how time seemed to pull me further from him.
But 5 years later and I can say that Finn is as much a part of our daily lives as ever. Finley knows she has 2 brothers just as any other child would. We carry him into all the happy moments, sometimes with tears and sometimes with smiles, but regardless, he is always there. Signs from him come frequently, so frequently that they aren’t always mentioned, just noticed with a smile and nod to Finn as we move about. Life is good.
As most of you know, we immediately sent letters to Finn’s 3 organ recipients. I am a “fixer” and in my desperation to fix an unfixable loss, I hoped that somehow knowing these people would provide healing. We heard from Finn’s kidney and liver recipient rather quickly, letters that to my embarrassment, have gone unanswered by us. We held out hope for a letter from his heart recipient. I called the transplant organization at one point just to check and make sure she was living. Fearing that the worst had occurred. Days went by before I was finally answered.
“I have good news to share with you about Finn’s heart recipient. She is doing very well and is a happy baby girl with no issues.”
With that I breathed a sigh of relief, and we continued to wait to hear from them.
And then it came, on the day of his 3rd birthday we received the letter from his heart recipient's family. The letter was a letter of immense gratitude. They had not received our first letter and were so apologetic for the time we waited. It wasn't until we read it, that we realized our hearts weren't quite ready for continued correspondence, yet.
It’s really a difficult concept, even having lived through all of it, having participated in the honor walk, having made the decision and signed the paper. The idea that my little boy’s perfect heart, a heart that I saw beat for the first time while he was in my belly, a sound that started an instant love, was beating for someone else. We sat on that beautiful letter filled with gratitude. Praying for the little girl who we now knew a name for, Grace, as she carried on a legacy for a little boy she didn’t know (or maybe, in a way, she did - more on that later).
The years went and Austin and I would talk about it every once in a while, but never followed through. What do you say next? What do you say when someone thanks you for a gift you wish you’d never been made to give? And I say that with nothing but love for the lives he saved, but I think we can all agree we never want to be put in that position of giving.
This last year we finally decided to return that letter. As most of you know having read my blogs, talked to us through the years, or just witnessed how Austin and I have moved through life after losing our baby boy, we have always grieved very differently. But in this instance, we were on the same page and sat and crafted the letter together. In that letter, we expressed a desire on our ends to take the communication beyond the transplant organization, a request that was answered very quickly by Grace’s family. When that was done, we received full names and did what anyone would do (I think), Facebook investigating. Grace’s family has kept a Facebook page of her entire journey starting pre-transplant, and I clicked back to the beginning and began to read. I became invested in Grace because she was Grace, not just a girl with Finn’s heart. But a beautiful little baby of a couple who was fighting so desperately for her. I cried as I read the pre and post heart transplant posts, remembering where we were at that same exact moment in time. Grace’s mother was always careful to acknowledge the donor family even through her own fear and pain, and that acknowledgment continued through all the years of posts. My heart stopped and I began to cry to Austin as I read that her body was rejecting Finn’s heart, and a few more posts later I cried with relief as I saw she was healthy once more. I was overwhelmed and saddened by all that I had never realized went into post-transplant life and all that this tiny little girl had to endure. I was amazed by her family, their strength in the unknown, and all the fear that must come with daily life after a heart transplant. I read about an annual event they hosted called GraceFest where they raised funds to support Grace’s continued care. I text Jessica my desire to attend in which she responded, if y'all ever do, we want to go too.
Laura, Grace’s mom, and I exchanged a few emails. We tried to arrange plans to meet but our schedules never quite aligned. Then one day I read that this year would be the final GraceFest, and I knew I wanted to go. It was on a holiday weekend, and one that I hadn’t scheduled any photo sessions on. I mentioned it to Austin a few times, but I could tell he didn’t want to discuss it further, until finally, I told him again of my desire and I’d like his input. He agreed to go. It was the most I could get out of him at the time. The event was located in Afton, OK, so I google mapped it to see the surrounding towns and plan our trip. It was at that time that I saw "Bentonville"and knew it was an urge from our Finn Benton to attend. I made sure Grace’s family was ok with our attendance, and of course asked our biggest supporters and Finn’s favorite people, Bob and Jess, if they would join us. Plans were made, and we attended Grace Fest on July 6th and met the girl our little boy was born to save.
We checked into our hotel and were given the room number 220. 22 has always been the number we have related to Finn as his birthday was August 22nd, yet another sign from him that we were right where we needed to be.
It’s really hard for me to summarize the meeting. The most overwhelming yet healing day of my life. When I attended counseling post losing Finn, I remember how often I’d say “it just shouldn’t be” and my counselor would correct me and say, “but it should.” Because she knew that my hope and values rested in God and that if I believed in Him, then what happened to Finn, was what should be. Not what I wanted, but what should be. But so often those feelings creep up of what should be…but being there, at GraceFest, a huge fundraiser full of people who love little Grace, I felt this overwhelming sense of…THIS…this is what should be. Grace shared so much of her time with us, in an event full of family and friends, she spent time playing with Finley; blowing bubbles with me, Finley and Foster; and chatting with Finn’s Auntie Jess. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life to be in the presence of my 2 children on earth and Grace who shares a large piece of my boy in heaven. Grace’s family expressed overwhelming gratitude and thanked us profusely for our choice, a choice I still believe to be Finn's. A thank you I was unable to answer, a nod and smile was all I was able to muster. Glad to hear their thanks but unable to meet it with a response.
Austin stood and observed from afar. He takes a bit longer to process, but I could see it healing a piece of him too. I was amazed by his ability to hold a conversation in the midst of the emotion I knew he was battling internally. A sweet friend gifted me a green Stethoscope the week before we left, complete with a wired inscription that read “Finn the Hero” for us to listen to Finn’s heart. I wasn’t sure if this was something I felt comfortable asking, but in a moment alone with Laura, I mentioned it, wanting to be sure more than anything that it wouldn’t make Grace uncomfortable. And she smiled and said she had brought one too. At the end of the night, I was able to hear my sweet boy’s heart that now beats for beautiful Grace. A moment that will live with me forever. It took no searching. As soon as I placed the stethoscope on little Grace, I heard their heart instantly, as strong as I remember it to be.
During a conversation with Grace’s parents, Laura mentioned a concept I had never looked into, but Austin nodded in familiarity. When a donor gives an organ, their cells intertwine with the recipient, and there is research to suggest that they can take on some of their characteristics. Laura, unknowingly, gave us one of the greatest gifts when she attributed Grace’s tomboy characteristics, admiration of dinosaurs, and love for cars to Finn's characteristics. A thought that puts instant tears in my eyes. A neighbor of the family had also told me earlier in the evening that Grace ran and played with her boys often and she also saw that as a piece of Finn. To be able to imagine Finn as anything other than our 11-month-old Turkey Butt is difficult, but to potentially see characteristics of him in her, is the greatest, most unexpected gift, and one I will be forever grateful for. We are looking forward to a continued relationship with Grace and her family. Laura and I both expressed a regret in not getting a picture of all of us together, but sweet Jess did manage to capture my favorite moment from the day, playing with Finley, Foster and Grace.
To the me 5 years ago, yes, there is an absolute shift at 5 years after the loss of a child. You can now laugh without feeling guilty, remember him with smiles and not just tears, breathe easier, and most days, life feels too good to be true. You love Finn the same, remember him with the same vividity, and have found a happiness I'm not sure you would have arrived at if it weren't for him.
I love you Finn. Always.
Love Always,
Finn’s Mama
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