Löwen

Owen is Welsh for warrior. Löwen is German for lions. But that's not actually how it started. This is the story about how the lion became Owen's spirit animal and how we started following lions.

After he was born and his cardiologist took a closer look at Owen's heart, he called us in to discuss the findings. He drew detailed pictures and explained that we were dealing with something serious and our warrior would need surgery. At the end of that meeting, he brought out a bin of stuffed toys. He told us that all of the heart babies get to have one and asked us to choose. At the bottom of the bin was a small lion. It's fuzzy mane reminded me of Owen's hair.

We left his office with the lion and put it by Owen's head in his little bed in the Kinder Klinik (German NICU). We thought the idea of the little lion standing by him was cute. The next few days were a blur of night sweats, pumping every 3 hours, visiting him and trying to learn how to hold and feed him, going back to my room to rest (I hadn't been discharged yet due to some complications after the birth) and the anxiety about where to have Owen's surgery was mounting. Jay was able to visit for an hour or two a day and then had to drive the 30 minutes back home to take care of the other kids. Things were hard and scary for all of us to say the least. I'll probably share the details of my experience as a NICU mama in those early days later, but for now I'll leave it at that.

As we continued to wrestle with our new reality and faced what we thought was the most difficult decision of our lives--where to have Owen's surgery--we were looking for signs and answers anywhere we could get them. Then the lions started appearing. First, we found out that Löwen is German for lions. Then my friend brought me a bag of snacks (German hospital food is not good) and I noticed the logo had a lion on it.

I had a nurse with a lion tattoo. But it didn't stop there. One night the cardiologist came to my hospital room and said he was going to escort me to the surgeons office to discuss the option of staying at Homburg for the surgery. I walked gingerly in the cold and dark across the hospital campus to the sugeons office. When I got there I was nervous and uncertain. He was kind. He sat me down and began to engage in small talk with me. I started looking around his office and noticed 5-6 lions on the built in shelving of his office! He must have noticed me staring because he asked "what are you looking at?" I felt like I was in a movie...I started to cry and explained that I was looking at the lions. He got up and brought a few of the lions over to the table. He lined them up and asked me to tell him about the lions. I told him through tears that I was searching for meaning as to why my baby was born with this heart defect and that I hoped maybe this was a sign of hope...a sign of anything. He then explained that he is a Leo and the lions were from his 50th birthday--gifts from his children. I left his office feeling that this was definitely a sign and maybe he was the one who could fix Owen's heart. Or maybe it meant that I was just on the right track...or maybe it just meant things were going to be ok. It had to mean something. I told Owen about the lions on my daily visits with him and I started telling him to follow the lions. They would keep him safe.

We ended up deciding that going to Children's National Hospital in DC was a better decision and I'll be honest, I was afraid because I thought maybe we were leaving the lions! But could I really make this huge decision based on some silly signs??

When we arrived in DC, exhausted and scared, we were transported from Andrews AF Base to the hospital in an ambulance. I rode in the front. I was in and out of pseudo-sleep. The driver made a wrong turn and at one point we were stopped, waiting to turn around. I opened my eyes, looked out the window and staring at me was a huge white lion statue. I blinked a few times--could this be? Did the lions follow us? Was I going crazy?

Then we got to the hospital. We were escorted to what would become Owen's home for the next month of his life--room 377. And there they were. Lions on his pillow.

Every day we took an Uber from our hotel to the hospital to sit by Owen's side. There weren't a lot of words to exchange so we often just stared out the window. Every day, the lions appeared. On porches, on buildings, in coffee shops. There was so much fear and uncertainty each day, but somehow the lions comforted me.

They kept giving me hope and I kept telling Owen to follow them. I kept asking the lions to keep him safe and to lead him back to me. His nurses brought him lions. Nurse Nora got him a Christmas tree with lion ornaments. His special lion became his Löwen by name. Everyone made sure he had Löwen at all times. Everyone believed in Owen. And in the lions.

As things got worse for Owen, I went from asking him to follow the lions to begging him through tears. And the lions kept appearing everywhere. The lions had become signs of hope for his recovery--by now he had 4 stuffed lions in his bed, books about lions, blankets with lions on them. The lions of DC were everywhere. I felt like they were listening--but yet Owen wasn't getting better.

As we got closer to the end and we knew it was time to let Owen go, I realised that I had misunderstood the lions all together. I thought the lions meant he was going to be okay. That he was going to come back to me. But that wasn't their meaning at all.

Now I believe the lions came here with him. That they were his protectors, accompanying him on his journey here. They weren't going to lead him back to me. They were going to lead him home. So in the end, Owen followed the lions. In fact, he had been following them all along.

Now we look for Owen everywhere. We follow the lions.