New Years eve and twas time to change tubes

We made plans for a quiet new year's eve meal this Sunday night, returning home before midnight to usher in the new year with a special babysitter. Hopefully Mia gives Bubby a quiet evening of knitting and remains oblivious to a new year's dawn.

A new year. Last night Mike wished me "a better new year" and then stopped and thought about Sasha and how it could be a better year in an absolute sense; Sasha is not with us. I wish you a good new year. That didnt sound right either. We tried a few others, I wish you a new new year, I wish you a different new year. And we laughed, in sadness and appreciation. Mike challenged me to appreciate the two years we had together, as compared to the loss of a child at birth or in the womb which he knows from experience and I appreciated the straight talk.

Sasha's death is a huge void and working to help those who helped us dont fill that void but they do keep us busy, though we hope we help and are not a distraction.

This new years it will be hard to not remember exactly where we were 365 days earlier, wondering if we would ever hear our child laugh again in 2006. Beside Sasha's bed, talking to her nurse, seeing fireworks through the CCU windows on Elm St looking south over the city, exchanging well wishes with other tired parents hanging on the bed rails over their sedated and possibly muscle relaxed child full of wires and tubes and hissing machiness. And then her oxygen saturations dropped and a resident told he was concerned and wanted to change her tubes. It was over a week since the last extubation attempt failed. We exited and the curtains were drawn. We would wait, hold hands, hope for the best and push off bad thoughts, then scrutinize the doctor's face as they approached and wait for the magic words. His face was serious, tired, as he told us Sasha's o2 levels had stabilized and showed us the cut end of the tubes half filled with clotted tendrils of blood. He then he walked on down the hall of CCU to help another kid and I remember weeping at his quiet mastery and modesty. All over this world doctors reach into bodies and give back breath. We are grateful Sasha did laugh again.


  1. Anonymous7:49 PM

    happy new year-sounds strange to me.i have never thought of it as a new year but, just, i don't know, another year.a continuation of this year-and last year,and the year before that...of my last 35 years.somebody asked me in september if i had a good summer and i answered "yes,thank you." i then thought to myself why i said yes.some people would look at all that has happened in our lives and think it wasn't a good year.alot has happened in 2006-ofer and i discuss and are amazed as to how many people passed away.between us 3 grandmothers,brother-in-law's brother,sister-in-law's father,a friend's mother,and our beautiful's been 16 years since bruce died.feels like yesterday.3 years since our friend denis passed away.and ofer's other grandmother.we count the years-why?
    i think we count because we can then see that time moves forward.hours,days,months and moves forward-and we move with it.and in that time between all the sadness-we experience happiness.we need to remember all the all the days and years to come.

    xox jess

  2. Anonymous12:48 PM

    Dear Jonathan and Pam
    I just finished reading your blog (as a result of Rabbi Landsberg's article) and the tears are streaming down my cheeks. Thank you for your openness, your honesty and your willingness to share both your pain and your love. I cannot begin to imagine how devastating it has been to lose Sasha. I can only marvel at your ability to honor and sustain her memory through your blog and through your fundraising efforts.
    May you go from strength to strength
    Marlene Myerson