While we were in the hospital with Ryann, I happened to take one picture. I didn't know it would be the last picture we would ever take of her. At the time I had no idea how serious things were, I was simply taking a picture to document our bizarre trip to the emergency room. I thought it would be funny to show our families to freak them out later on. Because, let me tell you, it's scary seeing your kid hooked up to cords and monitors and IVs and such. Scary because of what can happen. What it could mean. But even then, in the midst of it, it just seems like a spook story. These things don't actually happen, do they? We really believed that we would be out of there in the morning.
Even though it's hard to look at this picture now, I'm so glad that I have it. It reminds me of the last few hours we spent together. She was tired, but silly. Her hair was a mess from sleeping on it damp from her bath. She loved baths. She thought the glowing monitor on her finger was funny, we called it her magic finger.
Now we're left with an empty room. A quiet house. Searing pain. But no matter how much it hurts, if we somehow had the choice, we would do it all again in an instant. Because of the memories. Sweeter than any pain that could possibly come.