Oh Your Heart by Jeremy Cole

William’s name was something Alex and I mulled over for almost my entire pregnancy. We had a girl name almost immediately, but the boy name felt a little more difficult to nail down. I remember sitting in the recliner in the nursery as Alex brushed his teeth a few weeks before the baby’s due date and hearing, “What about William?” It was a little muffled because Alex was sitting on the side of the tub in the bathroom, right on the other side of the nursery wall, with a toothbrush in his mouth. By the time I walked into the hallway to clarify what he said, Alex had finished brushing and he continued, “After my dad. What about William?” I smiled and actually had water collecting on the tiny bottom lids of my eyes. “I love that. I think that’s really great- named after two of our favorite guys.”

I’ve always had a soft spot for Alex’s dad, Bill. He is incredibly kind and good at conversation… about anything. He was warm and welcoming to me from the very beginning and I would respond to the family teasing of Bill with, “Leave him alone!” through a giggle. Bill is someone I would go to with any history questions and someone I truly look up to for the giant heart he has. When him and my mother-in-law, Mary walked into the delivery room after William was born, they weren’t quite pleased that we had kept the sex and name from them for as long as we did. We called them right after he was born and asked them to come to the hospital. Mary asked Alex, “Right now?” And although it was 8:30 in the evening, they got in the car to come and meet him. They showed up right as I was trying to nurse him for the first time, so they had to wait a little longer still to know the details. But when they walked further into the room, they saw me holding the little one with a blue and white hat; the name William was stitched on it and the looks on their faces told me the wait was worth it. Mary saw it right away and said, “Bill do you see what his hat says?” Bill looked and said, “Oh. That’s going to make me cry.” They held him and then they left for the night before we got transferred to the postpartum room.

While we waited for them to get to the hospital, I insisted we FaceTimed William’s Uncle Jer and Auntie Claire. His middle name, Christopher was the part of the boy name I insisted on. I wanted his middle name to be the same as my older brother, Jeremy’s. So we introduced William Christopher to the two men his name came from as soon as we possibly could. What a gift it was and is still to have them in our lives and for them to share their names with our son.

Grandpa Bill was at the hospital more times than I can count with us and William. He was usually standing up next to his bed and talking or singing to his third grandchild. He had a sunny demeanor every time he walked through the door and he would ask questions to the nurses and start conversation with everyone in the room while playing with William’s long toes (he got those from me) and I would frequently hear him saying, “he looks just like his mother.” If you’re a mom, you know how much that means to hear and coming from Bill, it meant the world to me.

William’s Uncle Jer lives about four hours from the Twin Cities in a small town in Iowa. Not only did Jeremy drive up to the hospital several times to visit William, but Alex and/or I would get text messages from him daily. Jeremy was inquisitive. He wanted to know what the numbers on each screen connected to William meant and what the goals were for them. Him and Alex spent a big chunk of time asking one of our favorite doctors questions “rapid fire style” one night I was gone from the hospital for a bit and she “didn’t get stumped once” as Alex and Jeremy explained when I got back. That doctor looked young and was very, very kind along with being very intelligent. She always left William’s room after asking if we needed anything and would say, “let us know, okay?”

Anyway… Jeremy was present even when he physically couldn’t be. He has a wife, who was pregnant at the time, and a two-year-old son he needed to be present for. Somehow though, even when he was in Iowa, he made us feel seen and accompanied on this journey with William. I could feel the love he had for his nephew every time I would FaceTime him when William was awake or when he was pressed up against his bedside. And then, on June 8, right before 6 am, Jeremy sent a text about a song he had written. It was called, “Oh your heart.”

Before I jump into the details of that, some context for where William was is necessary. On June 7, in the evening, one of the doctors in his fellowship program walked into the room, and I had gotten the opportunity to hold William, so there we were- cuddling. Alex had gone home after his work day to take a shower and have some time to breathe alone, and I could tell by the look on this doctor’s face that something had come up. We had gotten to know him fairly well, and the furrowing of his brow gave away a secret. I tightened my arms around William’s body in a gentle way before saying, “What’s wrong? Is there something new?”

William had gotten an ultrasound on his head earlier and we hadn’t heard anything about it yet. The doctor with the concern splashed on his face said, “I’m getting ready to head out for the night, but I wanted to come in and tell you myself… we found a brain bleed.” The world stopped for what felt like the millionth time, I looked at William and immediate sadness in the form of water fell from my eyes onto the innocent baby sleeping with too many tubes attached to him. I nodded my head in understanding and then ironically asked, “What does that mean?” The doctor answered my questions with everything he and the rest of the team knew (which was very little) and I could tell he knew this was a big deal for us. Alex and I had made it clear to William’s team that until it seemed like his brain was affected, we were open to moving forward with the care they recommended. This was a game changer, and his doctor knew it. His compassion showed up the first time we met him and never wavered, especially that night. When he left, I texted Alex to see when he was going to be back…. I had to tell him.

Both of us cried that night while we sat out on the curb in front of the hospital; we knew this was getting to the point of not being fair to William. Alex and I decided to tell the people closest to us what had been found and that we didn’t know what it meant aside from they were going to keep an eye on it with daily ultrasounds and we would make decisions with that information.

So, that next morning, before 6 am, I was awake when my phone buzzed with Jeremy’s message asking if I was okay to listen to the song he had written. He explained that he didn’t want it to feel like anyone was giving up hope, but also had talked to me the night before as I cried and told him the news. He said he had written it from my perspective, and what a gift that was and is- to have someone see my perspective as much as anyone else possibly could. In the video he sent me, he takes a deep breath after pushing the “record” button on the other side of the screen. He says, “This is called ‘Oh Your Heart.’ William Christopher,” he pauses and looks back up to the camera, “we love you, buddy.” The strumming of his guitar starts and then the singing, “Oh your heart, it’s not fair- why sweet baby, we had plans that you would’ve loved.”

I encourage you to listen to the song as many times as you need, but when you do, I’d love for you to know about a couple lines:

“Daddy’s face, kissing your head so gently, that’s how I’ll always picture him.” Jeremy had heard me talk about how much I loved seeing Alex with our son and Jeremy had even commented on seeing Alex kiss William’s head and how that was something he would always remember. When things get covered in grief for me, I close my eyes and remember seeing that, and it brings me peace knowing that William knew his dad’s love and I cherish getting to see it.

“William, son, you know I’d trade hearts with you, but you already have my heart.” This line embodies the amount of love I have for William as him mom. I would’ve given my heart to that baby in a second without thought, because William deserved it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give my heart physically to him to fix his body, but I did give him my heart the moment I met him. While that sounds cliche’, I couldn’t mean it more.

“You’ve given hope to hopeless souls.” William’s story has changed more people than I will ever know. I’ve heard stories from people who I’ve never met (and probably never will) about how they have thought of him in challenging moments and they all center around hope. And as time goes on, Alex and I are committed to making sure his legacy keeps making a difference for other people.

This song holds all of that along with the last moments of William’s funeral. I stood up with Jeremy at that memorial service and attempted to sing this song along with him, but I stayed distant from the mic for a couple reasons. First, half of the words couldn’t come out through the tightness in my throat. And because William’s Uncle Jer sounded so perfect singing it to and for him. I wanted to be as close as possible to, while also just witnessing, Jeremy’s love that came with the melodies. After he sang all the words of the song he wrote, he made his guitar go slowly into a bit of “It Is Well” and we invited the entire chapel to join in on singing with us. I could feel William in all the hope and love that came with that crowd of people singing together. I knew then, that the lyrics “I’ll get through this, you have my word” weren’t just words, they were truth. William was once again and will always, through the people who love him, give hope to my sometimes hopeless soul.