Taylor's Gift (26 page)

We all hugged again and then sat down. Joe had been hanging out in the corner, unsure of what his role was in all of this, but now he joined us at the table.

“How are
you
feeling?” I asked Patricia.

Joe let us know she was okay and though it had been hard, she was doing well. He was protective of her, telling her to sit down while he brought us water. They offered us chocolate Bundt cake, and we talked about our kids. We called Father Alfonse and
introduced him to Patricia and Joe. We talked with him for a while, and he prayed for us over the phone. When we hung up, Patricia invited us into the living room where we would be more comfortable. Tara and Patricia sat next to each other on the couch, while Joe and I sat across the room from each other in chairs. As the four of us talked, I could see Patricia watching Tara, to make sure she was okay. And Tara was trying to mother Patricia, making sure she wasn't doing too much.

Patricia understood what it had been like for us to lose Taylor. That understanding probably came from her own near-death experiences. She told us how she had basically been in bed for eighteen hours a day and unable to do much more than lie on the couch for the remaining six. She described how hard it had been to breathe and how she had felt like such a bad mother because she couldn't take the boys to the park or to the zoo.

But Taylor's heart had changed all that.

“Do you want to listen again?” Patricia asked Tara.

“May I?” Tara asked.

“Of course!” Patricia said. “I know I would want to if our situations were reversed.”

The two women sat as close as possible to each other. Soon, they were talking privately, lost in their own conversation and oblivious to the fact that Joe and I were still in the room. It was as if they were sisters, with a shared history that neither Joe nor I could relate to.

I was flooded with memories of Taylor. Of seeing Taylor smile.
Can Taylor see this?
I thought about Ryan and Peyton and wished they had come with us. But I also wondered if this was something they should see and do. Would it have been too hard for them? I was glad I didn't have to make that decision right now, and I was unsure if I ever would. What were the chances we would meet again?

Watching the women, I could see they obviously wanted this meeting to last, and Tara and I wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. “Hey, Joe, how about we go out and pick up some dinner and bring
it back?” I suggested. “Maybe we can spend some time together and give them a little mom time together.”

Joe agreed. As we headed out the door, I turned back to get one last glimpse of Tara. The women were so close and so comfortable with each other. They shared a space, shared their stories, and shared a stethoscope.

It took my breath away to see they also shared Taylor's heart.

Tara

When Joe opened the door for us, and I saw Patricia for the first time, my heart began to pound.
There she is, there she is
, I thought. Patricia pulled me toward her, wrapping her arms around me. She held me as tight as she could. I did the same. There was an inexplicable bond between us, and it was created almost instantly. Seeing her, I felt a deep sense of relief. That feeling was intensified a thousand times when, a few moments later, I sat in her kitchen and heard my daughter's heart beating.

At first, all I heard was a diluted whooshing sound as Patricia searched with her stethoscope for the perfect spot on her chest. When she found it, the sounds became crystal clear.

Bump-
bump
. Bump-
bump
. Bump-
bump
. The rhythm was instantly familiar, and I recognized her heart calling out to me. It was the same distinctive sound I'd heard so many times before—lying beside her, with my head on her chest in the hospital, lying with her in her bed at home, even the very first ultrasound when she was still in my womb. A gush of warm emotion rushed over me, and I melted from the inside out. Taylor seemed to speak to me, saying
“I'm here. I'm right here.” It was hard to comprehend that despite all we'd been through in the past few months, Taylor's heart had
never
stopped beating.

An overwhelming sensation of love filled me. I felt a connection with Taylor and with Patricia. I knew it wasn't physical; there was no reason for us to bond so quickly or for me to connect with Taylor's heart in the way I had. The connection was a spiritual one. The Holy Spirit is the great Comforter, and I felt as if He had embraced me and wrapped me in the comfort of knowing my daughter was safe. I finally felt the connection that I had so longed for. It was overwhelming, in such a beautiful way.

After the guys left to get food, Patricia and I sat alone in her living room, and I felt safe asking her a very intimate question.

“I'd like to hear her heartbeat like I used to—without a stethoscope. Can I put my head on your chest?”

“Of course,” Patricia said, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me closer. With my eyes closed, I pressed my ear against her warm skin, marveling at the sound of my daughter's heart pumping in Patricia's chest.

Bump-
bump
. Bump-
bump
. Bump-
bump.
BOOM.

Suddenly there had been a loud kick. I waited a second, then sat up and looked at Patricia.

“Did you feel that?” she asked.

“Yes. I did.”

I put my ear back to her chest—and BOOM! It happened again, like a huge kick. “What was that?” I asked.

“That was Taylor,” Patricia said with a smile on her face.

“Does she do that often?”

“It's never happened before,” she said. “But while you were listening, I was praying to God and asking Him to give you a sign from Taylor.”

I was speechless.

“Just as soon as I finished praying, I felt it,” Patricia said. “I've never felt anything like that before. But until you said something, I didn't know if you could feel it too.”

By now, we were both tearing up again. The same warm feeling that washed over me in the kitchen flooded through me again. It was a precious gift from God, from Taylor, and from Patricia. I would never forget it.

The guys were gone a while, and as Patricia and I continued to talk, she asked me to tell her more about Taylor. I talked about how fun she was, the silly things she did with her friends, and how she always took care of the outsiders. I told her about how I would lie next to Taylor at night and we'd talk about her day. And boys.

“Right before she fell asleep, she always did the same thing,” I said. “She'd tuck her Pooh bear
behind
her.” I had thought that was so odd. I told Patricia how one night I asked her about it. ‘‘Why don't you snuggle with him?”

Taylor had said, “Because when I'm really tired, and I turn over, he's just there. I don't have to find him.”

“I thought it was kind of silly,” I told Patricia, “but once she said it, I totally understood. He was just there for her when she needed him.”

“She liked Pooh?” Patricia asked, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

“She loved Pooh!”

“Did I tell you I have a Pooh tattoo on my right hip?”

“No way!” I said, laughing.

She showed me her Pooh tattoo and told me all about her Winnie the Pooh collection, which was now in her boys' rooms. It felt like the invisible bond we had the moment I walked in the door had only grown tighter.

When the guys returned, I told Todd about Patricia's love of all things Pooh and then about the kick in her heart after she prayed
to God for a sign of Taylor. As he listened, his eyes grew wide and a smile spread across his face.

“Of course!” he said when I finished.

I witnessed a deep sense of peace settle over him.

I recognized it, because I felt it too. Finally, at midnight, we tore ourselves away. Patricia had just gotten out of the hospital, and she needed to rest and recover.

None of us wanted our visit to end, so we decided to meet for breakfast in the morning before Todd and I headed to the airport to catch our flight. The next morning, the good feelings continued. Patricia brought her stethoscope so I could listen one more time. It was so hard to say goodbye to her. We both wanted to connect again, but we were unsure of how or when it would happen.

But we each had faith it would.

On the flight home, I turned to Todd and said, “This was a gift from God.”

He smiled at me.

It was similar to what he'd said to me on the plane home from Denver, but now I understood it at a deeper, more profound level than I had before. Knowing that Taylor's heart had
never
stopped beating was a powerful and overwhelming thought; I was in awe. From the beginning of time, God knew that Taylor's heart needed to be with someone who wanted to connect as much as we did. And now He had made that happen. So many donor families want to meet their loved one's organ recipients but never have the opportunity. I knew God's hands were all over this—I could see His fingerprints in everything that had happened. It was only because of His grace that we had the privilege of experiencing this.

Though I didn't like it when Pam Cope first said it, by now I had come to believe we had, indeed, been handpicked for this. After meeting Patricia, I believed she had also been handpicked by God to give Taylor's heart a new home.

Though the story began as a local piece about hearing Taylor's heart, our story and the foundation ended up receiving national attention when
Good Morning America
showed the piece to their audience and the hosts were clearly moved by our story. A week later, both Patricia and Joe and our family were invited to go to New York to tell our story in person on
The Today Show
.

Those who are grieving like to be distracted. Sometimes they choose inappropriate ways like alcohol or drugs, but for Todd and me, it seemed God had blessed us with some healthy distractions.

Like Ryan and Peyton.

Blue sundresses with a Taylor label.

Or friends who made me earn points by planting tomatoes.

And now this trip.

It was such a blessing to have something to look forward to. And I couldn't wait to see Patricia again.