A young facebook friend asked an honest question about Nathaniel last week, “Could he possibly die, Kim?”
I had posted information about a doctor’s appointment and diagnosis, a newly found hole between the Nathaniel’s upper heart chambers. The question was genuine and filled with concern. I crafted an answer that tried to delicately balance between the truth of mortality rates for children with a tracheotomy and trusting in God.
The question has stayed on my mind. It has taken me back twenty-five years to a hot June night in 1990. I shifted between nestling against Rich’s chest with his arm wrapped around me and rolling onto my right side away from him. He would have slept soundly through my tossing until I deliberately woke him up.
“Will she die?” I asked.