Unfortunately, our civilization is so quick to judge. We naturally grasp onto a subject and run with it. We talk to our peers to get validated. Commonly, conversation starters aren’t utilizing intent. It tends to be easier to discuss your thoughts on a topic rather than meaningful, open-ended, questions that can create a true conversation. An eloquent conversation. A topic I’ve been struggling with lately hasn’t been spoken to me, but I can imagine the statement has crossed paths for others. The statement I want to clear up is this. “Archer was so sick.” This short statement may not mean a lot to you, but to me, it holds a lot of power. Let’s break it down together. Archer was so sick, does that mean you think we expected him to die? Archer was so sick, are those the last memories you have of him? Archer was so sick, is that the tribute you feel should be used to describe his death?
Archer was not so sick. He had a life-limiting illness. Avery has a life-limiting illness. Many people have life-limiting illnesses. Diabetes, Chrons disease, Muscular dystrophy, are all considered life-limiting illnesses. Archer was not so sick that his passing was anticipated. Upon Archer’s diagnosis, we knew that it was manageable because look at what Avery had already conquered. We glorified the strength and adversity displayed in Avery every day. Avery is a walking and breathing perfect example of that. Archer’s passing was not because he had a life-limiting illness. He passed due to the reaction he experienced with anesthesia induction. Many of you may know the finer details of this, but for those of you who do not, please respect the idea that our son was not so sick. He was a brilliant, strong, and determined young man that didn’t let anything stand in the way. The definition of Archer is clearly defined as a person who shoots an arrow at a target. Bring that to light and analyze it. Archer was named after a powerful meaning. He contained the power to visualize a target and strike it head-on with all his might. That was my son, powerful and gifted.
Archer never got the opportunity to live up to the obvious definition, but he did in so many other ways. That statement above pulls me down, but I will always come back to the meaning of his name. That doesn’t mean I’ve accepted his passing. I am still quite angry. I don’t like to admit it, but I question everything. Why God, did my son need to leave me. He was cherished by so many people, why take him so soon? I can’t help but ask that question and I guarantee I am not the only one who does. I still look at Otto every day and see a glimpse of Archer. My mind wants to see Archer. My heart wants to hold Archer. Why can’t I? The unfairness of it all is becoming the reality. My faith has gone through more turmoil lately than I had ever thought possible.
I am reminded every day that I am awake. I am here. I have eyes that can see and ears that can hear. I do not want to waste my time suffering when I have so much to live for, but how are we supposed to do that? How are we expected to keep on living life when we are grieving life at the same time? Is it even my right to answers those questions knowing the answers are within me? After all, it is human nature to question, to want answers, to want more explanations.
Every time I develop a new question, thoughts pass through me and I remember a time. A specific time, a specific event, and I am brought back to the answer hidden in those times. I’ve come to conclude; I’ve been grieving Archer since October. Again, some of you may know this but to most of you, this is new information. It kind of goes against my feelings in the first paragraph, but that’s how we process. In October, I had a week-long depressive spirit. There was no light in the day, no hopeful things to look forward to. I was sad and I couldn’t pinpoint why. Now I know. I was mourning my son. One thing I have fixated on since Archer was diagnosed was that if he becomes sick, it is my fault. I was the only person to manage his infusions. It was my responsibility to ensure he had a working, uninfected, central line. After all, that was his lifeline. That line was how he received his continuous infusions to keep his pulmonary pressures controlled. No problem, right? No pressure. That week of sadness for me is now evident that I was being called to start grieving my son. He was the center of my emotions, the axis my world spun on. The epiphany continued into November, but the reactions were much more subtle.
In December, Brandt was so busy plowing. We hardly saw him. Together, he and I knew if we wanted to spend time together, it would have to be riding shotgun plowing with him. So, I did. One evening, I was overwhelmed with emotions. I cried, and cried, and cried some more. It took what felt like forever for him to realize I was crying, but eventually, when he noticed, he asked why I was crying. I replied through tears that “I am so worried about Archer.” I felt this coming. Not because he was sick, but because God was tugging at my heart. God didn’t want me to be shocked when he took my son. He was preparing my heart for the immense suffering of my beloved son.
January 2nd, before I took Archer to the emergency room, we took pictures together. My heart was telling me to. I thought it was Satan telling me because I kept thinking, what if these are the last pictures I get to take with Archer and Otto together? It must have been Satan because what type of mother would have those feelings about her son? Awful, grime, and hopeless feelings, but I felt them, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I felt it. Now I know it was God. I shifted my perspective. I opened my heart to hear what he was truly doing in my life. Now it makes sense, but the questions remain. Why my son? Why have I been committed to an identity that I didn’t ask for? I feel the loving hands on me every day, but accepting the loving hands to pull me through, that’s a different kind of feeling. It’s not a feeling of comfort or warmth. It’s a feeling of desire and suffering at the same time.
If you take anything from my blog, please take the gratefulness that I’ve conveyed this entire time. I am so incredibly grateful to be gifted Archer for his 5 years. He taught us so much that we thought we already knew. Like I said in his obituary, “Brandt and I thought we had this parenting thing perfected until Archer came along.” His integrity and pure soul are missed every day. I am conflicted with the preparation the Lord gave me. I cannot say I am thankful for those dark days and sad thoughts, not yet at least. That will come with time.
Please remember, my son was not “so sick” that we anticipated him to pass away. I caught his infection early and it wasn’t even labeled a sepsis infection. For my health care readers, you understand that to be, not quite a blood infection, but some bacteria present. The doctors assured me the entire days leading up to his procedure that his infection was so minimal. The only reason he needed a new line was that his body had pushed his other line up out of his right atrium, into his jugular, and kinked it off. Another medical marvel, as he always was. I cannot tell you how many different physicians and nurses looked at that Xray and cocked their heads to the side in a complete misunderstanding of how his line ended up that way. They were also shocked his line, meant to be a short-term line, lasted as long as it did. Almost 15 months to be exact. Archer was not so sick; he was a medical marvel that called us all to open our eyes and hearts to the greater being. His passing was not anticipated. The anesthesiologists even deemed him so healthy that he didn’t need the ECMO bedside during the procedure. That wasn’t an option for him. Unfortunately, we now know, it should have been.
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