The Painful and Joyous Moments

The morning of April 3rd, I just knew something wasn't right with Martin.  When I went upstairs to check on him I knocked on the door and asked him if he was ok, it was something I had done since March 23rd when he self-isolated to protect us.  That morning was just so different, I could hear him gasping for air and when he could barely respond to my question I just knew I had to call 911.  As  they brought Martin down the stairs I looked into Martin's eyes and said "I love you," and then I watched the ambulance take him away.  I didn't know that was the last time I would see him in person and that he would never walk through our front door again.  I truly thought he was going to be ok, I thought I got him the help he needed in time, and I thought he would be home with us soon.  A part of me wishes that I hugged him or kissed him on his forehead because that was my last moment with him.  

I am going to be honest, when I think of that day I always feel a bit sick, I didn't think my life was going to change so drastically.  I truly thought with medical care, some rest, and hydration he would be home soon.  He seemed to be doing ok, he wasn't on a vent, he was eating, and he was texting me a bit. That all changed within a matter of days, and life as I knew it would never be the same again.  

There are things that also still haunt me at times.  One being one of his last texts to me "I'm scared, what if I don't make it?" When he wrote that it just didn't seem possible that that would be the outcome...boy was I so wrong.  I sometimes question if I called 911 soon enough, what if I called Thursday instead of Friday would that have made a difference? Did I do enough while he was in the hospital when it came to his care?   Deep down I know I did everything I could for Martin.  I took care of him as much as I could when he was home and the second I knew something wasn't right I got him help.    I also know I tried my best to do the same when he was in the hospital.  I believed in him and encouraged him to keep fighting.  I told him I loved him and missed him a bunch of times during our FaceTime calls. I always made sure he knew how proud of him I was for fighting so hard.   I never gave up on him or my faith that he was going to make it home to us.  Until I got that final call I truly believed he was going to beat COVID.  

Although I still think about April 3rd,  I  think about March 21st even more.  March 21st was Elsie's 2nd birthday...two days before Martin realized he might have COVID instead of a cold. It truly was such a happy and fun day for us.  We spent the day as a family as we celebrated our baby girl's big day at home, just the four of us.  Elsie and Martin baked and decorated a birthday cake together.  He got her a special birthday pin to wear that matched her special birthday outfit I got her.  I decorated the house with balloons and got us special party hats to wear(even Graeme wore one).   That day is such an important and special memory for me and for Elsie(she talks about it all the time).  I love thinking about that day, because of the joy.  I have to give Martin credit because I was bummed we had to cancel her birthday party, but he made sure that day was amazing.  That was just the kind of Papa  he was.  It's memories like Elsie's 2nd birthday that shine through when thoughts of April 3rd creep into my mind.    So yes, I have my moments when I can't help but think about the morning of April 3rd and the what if's.  But, I only allow them to be moments.  Why?  Because the joyous moments I was blessed to have had with Martin overpower that day and my self-doubt.  I think it is important to acknowledge the difficult moments and feelings, but even more important to recognize the joyous ones.