A New Life

My bag is packed for the hospital. Slippers – check. Reading material – check. iPod charger – check. Loose fitting pajamas – check. I’m keeping my coworkers in the loop on what I’m doing at work in the event that I’m not there on Monday. My family and friends are on high alert for when the moment arrives. People are lined up to visit after I get home from the hospital. E-mail lists have been created. I’m moody. I’m watching what I eat, especially lots of protein and no caffeine. I’m exhausted.

If you didn’t know better, wouldn’t you think I was pregnant? Waiting for a heart is actually not that dissimilar from being in one’s final trimester of pregnancy. [In fact, I wonder how horrified my coworkers would be if I suggested we hold an office pool for when my “big day” will be. Just in case, put me down for June 16.] But more to the point, in both situations, a person is waiting for a new life to be born. In the case of a pregnant woman, of course the new life is an entirely separate person (and is a whole lot cuter than a human heart). But I too am awaiting new life. And in both cases, we will treat our new life with great care.

In the way a new mother nurtures her newborn, I will care for my new heart. I will treat it with the utmost respect. I will listen to it and raise my hand if I sense something is wrong. I will feed it the right stuff (fortunately not by breastfeeding!). I will make sure it gets enough rest and plenty of playtime. I will show it off with pride. In all of these ways I will thank and honor my donor, whoever he or she may be. For all of the levity with which I try to treat my situation, I recognize the sadness and loss that will be experienced by my donor’s family and friends, since only once his or her life is taken can my new life be born.