Limp means alive.

I wrote this post a while ago and hand't had the nerve to post it. As I've read it over a few times, I feel like I want to share it. Please don't take this as anything more than what goes on in the mind of me while I'm idly "trolling" Facebook trying to forget some of my negatives.

As I was giving tips to another mom one day about how to handle anesthesia with a toddler, it came to my mind about going back into the OR and holding Saoirse while they put her under (so I would be the last person to hold her awake). It then occurred to me something interesting that goes through your mind in that situation. They go completely limp and "lifeless" in your arms, and at the time, you feel like they are dead in your arms. 
But it's interesting what the reality is - limp and floppy means alive. I particularly remember holding Saoirse after she died. She was hard as a rock. Stiff very quickly after death, and very unreal feeling. It's strange how your perceptions change and how experience reminds you of the odd things you know as a parent of a dead child. 
For a second I thought about writing a note saying 

"She will go limp, and it will be strange, but remember - limp means alive - trust me, dead kids are definitely not limp." 

But I thought better of it. Not exactly a great put in for someone who's child is about to go through a procedure. 
So who DO you say things like that to? Those thoughts that would shock those that haven't gone through it, and scare them half to death in reality. Others who have been through it? And remind them of that pain? Or are they all like me - strangely satirical about their dead kid. It struck me that night that I didn't know who to say my strange "quip" to, so it stayed strangely in the air - searching for a compassionate ear to fall on, one that wouldn't think I was diving-off-the-deep-end crazy.