After being born premature and weighing only 540 grams... and spending 5 months and 6 days in the hospital -- Scuitto is finally home.
I have never met Sciutto and his father Manu. Manu is a friend of my sister Wiway at Deutsche Bank where they worked together.
When I gave birth to Ines prematurely last July, one of the first people to touch base with us (albeit indirectly) was Manu, through my sister. Sciutto had been born just that June, a little more than 3 weeks older than Ines (who was born at 22 weeks and 6 days).
Manu sent us words of encouragement and advice. He reached out to us by letting us know the specialists they had worked with, where they sourced their medicines, and whole slew of other information he felt we should be armed with given the challenge of having a micro-preemie. He asked people he knew to pray for her.
And we had never even met him.
When Ines passed away 3 days later, he sent us heartfelt regrets and more prayers.
I asked my sister to give me constant updates on Sciutto. I read these updates, looked at his pictures and videos even though it broke my heart to do so. He was a sight to behold. So tiny, yet so brave. So much like my Ines.
I prayed for him when I could. All the hopes that I had for Ines, I passed on to him.
I also prayed for Manu and his wife Dawn. What they went through, what they are still going through, and what they will be going through for some time to come cannot be easy. But Sciutto is very lucky with the parents that he has.
Manu, through his emails, was (is) an inspiration. That we could all strive to be a parent like him. Brave, strong, filled with faith and love.
It made me cry when I found out he finally went home this weekend.
Tears of joy for Manu, Dawn, Danielino (their oldest son).
Tears of pride for little Sciutto (not so little now at 3 kgs.)
And tears of sadness for me. And Ines.
I just realized now that if I had been able to carry her to term, I would be giving birth to her this week.
So strange. One parent's gain, another's loss.
Still I find it comforting that I can be happy for the Sciutto and his family. Their tale gives me hope that life does go on, in different ways for each of us.
Perhaps its time for me to move on.