I took Aaron on Friday for his follow up appointment with the cardiologist. I remember booking that appointment after he was diagnosed with PDA thinking, 'Five months is a LIFETIME from now.' But, like so many things, it came in a blink.
'Turn on the news,' L texted me on the way, so I turned on NPR and heard all the horrors of Connecticut unfold. I couldn't stop the tears from falling as I lugged Aaron his his car seat through the hospital. On any other day, I would have joked about how heavy it was to anyone within earshot. I would have said something like, 'This is why Moms don't really need the gym!' And people would have smiled politely and wished me Happy Holidays.
After a good, long listen and a follow up echocardiogram, the news was good. Better than good. Aaron's heart is perfect; no procedure needed. On any other day, I would have been dancing in the halls. I would have Instagrammed a picture of his echo screen and said something like, 'Thump thump perfect!'
But instead, I just looked my baby's sweet face and thought, 'What is this world I've brought you into?'
I wouldn't pretend to know the answers about going out fixing what is broken in our world, but what I do believe is that it is a combination of lots of things. Like the vessels in our hearts, all dependent upon each other to function properly. When one piece is broken, the whole thing is in danger. We all suffer.
And so a woman in her thirties writes this humbled by her good fortune in life, by the precariousness of all of it, by the darkness and light of the human heart. How it can be fixed and broken at the same time.