Must See TV Emotionally

Thursday night for me, and for millions of other people, is TV night.  Not only do I watch ABC for 3 straight hours between 8 and 11 pm but I also Tivo NBC between those hours as well so I have a little comedy to watch in my Shonda Rhimes after glow. 

Everything went perfectly this evening; the kids were bathed and in bed, the dogs had eaten and been let out into the backyard to use the puppy friend facilities, and my precious fleece blanket that I use was fresh from the dryer.  (There is nothing like a piping hot fleece blankie!)  The night was going as planned until about three quarters of the way through Grey’s Anatomy when this mom started holding her son and telling him that it was ok to let go.

Niagara Falls. 

Suddenly I’m whisked back to a dimly lit family room at the St. Vincent’s NICU.  I’m sitting next to my husband who is home from Iraq on emergency leave and I’m holding our daughter telling her the exact words that were coming out of television mommy’s mouth.

“It’s ok, Maddie.  Mommy loves you so much and you have fought so hard.  It’s ok if you can’t fight anymore.  It’s ok.”

It’s been almost six years and, while I think of her often, I hardly ever cry.  I cried all I could in the days leading up to my husband and I having to make the decision no parent should; to pull the plug or not to pull the plug?  I have since reserved my tears for when I visit my tiny angel at her gravesite or for occasions like this; when I am caught off guard by something so unexpected that it triggers a complete breakdown. 

I paused Grey’s and sat on the couch for nearly two hours and cried.  I cried for her and the life she never got to lead.  I cried for all the things she could have experienced and the person she might have become.  I cried for her brothers who will never fully grasp that they have a big sister because they never got a chance to love her.  I cried for Brad because he wasn’t home to watch her come into this world and I cried upon remembering that he was the one holding her when she left.  I selfishly cried for myself when I realized this evening that I am still so damn angry at having her taken from me.  I cried because I fear never letting that anger go.

And now my babies that are still with me are up and needing their Mama.  I suppose this will once again get pushed aside to rear it’s ugly head another day;  another time when some dramatic scene comes on the television with a mom holding her child, letting him or her know it’s ok to let go when every inch of their being is screaming it’s not.

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