A Celebration of (A Too Brief) Life

This past weekend I was in Willowbrook, IL near Chicago to be present at the dedication of an insect garden created in honor of my granddaughter Beatrix. The Indian Prairie Public Library was one of the few places Bea ever visited during her brief, 13-month life. My son and daughter-in-law worked with the library, which to their family is a home away from home, to fashion an appropriate tribute and memorial for Beatrix, and making an insect garden is their way of demonstrating the cycle of life.

Beatrix Reid Lawrence, along with her identical twin sister, were born on September 5 of 2017 after an emergency C-section. The babies had experienced a relatively rare intra-uterine condition known as twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. Effectively, though there is only a single placenta, one baby acted as a donor of blood to the other baby. Thus, one baby fails to develop properly since it has less blood supply, while the other may experience a variety of problems related to the excess inflow of blood. To be safe with both babies, doctors decided to deliver the babies early. We are talking 3 months early, that is: 26 weeks, 4 days. At birth, Alexis Rose Lawrence weighed 1’6oz while Beatrix Reid Lawrence weighed 1’10oz. Two babies totaling 3 pounds. If you have never seen micro-premature babies, you literally have no idea how tiny they are. Their footprint was the size of a quarter; their diaper smaller in size than a $1 bill.

Beatrix and Alexis spent more than 100 days in the NICU. Gail and I went to visit as often as we could, which was nowhere near often enough. My son has written previously about his first visits to the NICU, and I note that it was overwhelming- tiny babies with warning signals and bells going off left and right, not understanding what any of it meant. That first visit to meet the babies was powerful and frightening- they were so small. And Alexis had heart surgery when she was only 8 days old, to repair a patent ductus arteriosus. Who does surgery on a baby with a heart the size of a walnut? She had another surgery at around 3 months as well. Meanwhile Bea was having problems with her lungs, and remained on bottled oxygen far longer than Alexis.

Alexis went home after about 107 days in NICU and Bea followed her a few days later- on Christmas eve, to be exact. I recall that as being the best present ever. But Bea still had to use bottled oxygen, an experience my son has written elegantly and powerfully about elsewhere. After her release, she did have to visit the ER a couple of times for respiratory problems, but those times were apparently not critically serious. However shortly after her first birthday- where she and her sister tasted solid food for the first time- she came down with a respiratory infection so serious that doctors in the ER and PICU immediately intubated her. Her lungs, never fully developed, could not handle the infections she had.

She never came off the respirator.

The month Beatrix spent on life support was so hard. We did not initially understand how serious her condition was, and we had hope that she would improve. Indeed, she did, at times. But for every rally there was a relapse and her condition kept worsening. We would come and stay and then leave when she seemed stable, and then come in again as she fell back.

She could not fight off the infection and the secondary infections that followed. She died on October 19 of 2018. The entire family was there, though only Noah and Megan were with her during those final moments. We sang her “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and kissed her goodbye. I am tearing right now just remembering this. Her ashes were buried on the grounds of the Episcopal church founded by my daughter-in-law’s grandparents. She is buried near the grandmother she never met, the only 2 people buried on the church grounds.

It hurts. And however much it hurts me, how much more so for mom and dad. I do not want to make this about me.

But I profess to moments of real existential angst. Bea was there and then she was not. Where did she go? How do we not forget her? Times goes on, memories fade. The church is in Illinois and I am in Dallas. I bought a bracelet that I wear every day, and I made myself have “muscle memory” of Bea whenever I put it on every morning. I wake every day thinking of her. This is not an exaggeration.

This is why this insect garden, Bea’s Garden, is so meaningful to me. Bea will never be forgotten. It is close to my kids’ home, we can visit, we can see other children enjoy it, know that the community knows it is there- so many people came to the dedication!