Without Words - Part 1

I am without words today.  At least any that could be eloquent or even moderately close to profound.  Last night I said goodbye to the very boy who stole and captured my heart forever.  He took a piece of it with him too. 

Yesterday I went down to Seattle Children's Hospital to meet baby Ewan and be a support system to his parents and auntie.  Have you never been to a Children's Hospital?  Well, I can give you a little pictorial of what it is like. (Be warned that the last photo is somewhat graphic... lots of tubes... it's not pretty...)


I love how they have made it a Zoo theme at Seattle Children's.  Our wing was the Giraffe.  Hello Mr. Giraffe.  As we walked from the parking garage, down the stairs and over to the Giraffe Entrance, I saw these photos on the walls:


I don't smoke but it still puts things in a new perspective doesn't it?  And look at how beautiful the Giraffe Entrance is!  Can you spot our long necked friends?


Upon entering, I had to check in at the desk.  They scanned my drivers license and then printed out this Inpatient Visitor badge.  Good thing I still resemble my DL photo, huh?


The elevators were called Trains and in each had a big mural of a train.  Cute, right?


The waiting game.  How many families have sat in these chairs waiting to hear how their babies are doing?  How many have hugged with tears of joy knowing that their child was going to survive.  How many have hugged with tears of grief because their little bundle just wasn't meant to be on this earth after all?


Walking up and down these halls I heard conversations on telephones I had never witnessed before.  I saw children in ways I had never seen before.

"They have to amputate her arm tonight.  Yeah she lost her arm.  It's spreading...."

"We have to put him back on the chemo.  I just don't know what to do."

As a little girl walks with her daddy with a bandage on her arm and a tube coming out of her nose, "Daddy... can we go see the whale?"

Watching a 6 to 7 year old little girl being wheeled onto the elevator, sitting upright on her bed, yapping with the doctors.


And then there was this little guy.  The whole reason for the visit.  To meet him.  Touch him. Smell him.  Love him.  Walk with his mama, hug his daddy and sit with his auntie.


A written prayer in the chapel.


Part 2 tomorrow.

hugs,
Melissa