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Holding Silvan: A Brief Life
In the opening of Holding Silvan: A Brief Life, Monica Wesolowska gives birth to her first child, a healthy-seeming boy who is taken from her arms for “observation” when he won’t stop crying. Within days, Monica and her husband have been given the grimmest of prognoses for Silvan, and they must make a choice about his life. The story that follows is not a story of typical maternal heroism. There is no medical miracle here. Instead, we find the strangest of hopes. Certain of her choice, Monica must still ask herself at every step if she is loving Silvan as well as a mother can. The result is a page-turning testimony to the power of love. By raising ethical questions about how a death can be good in the age of modern medicine, Holding Silvan becomes a joyous paean to what makes life itself good. Whether you have suffered profound loss or not, this book will change your life.
200 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
About the author
Monica Wesolowska
10 books28 followersMonica Wesolowska (author of the memoir HOLDING SILVAN: A BRIEF LIFE which was named a Best Book of 2013 by The Boston Globe) has two debut children's picture book forthcoming! LEO + LEA will be published by Scholastic in Spring 2022, with illustrations by the amazing Kenard Pak and ELBERT IN THE AIR will be published by Dial in Fall 2022 with illustrations by the amazing Jerome Pumphrey. A teacher of creative writing at Stanford Continuing Studies, UC Berkeley Extension, Left Margin Lit and elsewhere for over fifteen years, Monica works with aspiring writers through her independent editing business.
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February 24, 2013
So it’s true, I wrote this book. I didn’t mean to write a review of it, but through a slip of the hand, as I was learning about Goodreads, I accidentally gave it one star; and now the only way to erase the ignominy of having given my own book one star seems to be to give it four more. But it’s also true that I think this is a five-star book, the kind of book I’d want to write, the kind of book I’d want to read. I love spending time with my newborn Silvan again, I’m relieved by the honesty with which I explore the agony of our choice, and I’m intrigued by the weaving of my childhood into the narrative as an explanation for how we loved and let Silvan go. And really, I don’t know how I did it. It’s as mysterious to me as conceiving and delivering a child. I’m humbled to have been able to honor my son in this way and not just my son but all those whose lives have been too brief. Thanks for reading.
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January 29, 2014I'm hoping that if I leave no star rating it won't affect the overall rating of this book. Honestly, it's my preference not to give a star rating for this one.
I have no real earthly idea how a person would workshop or edit something like this. This, the story of a baby born so severely brain damaged that the parents choose to let him die. The loss in the book only begins there. How do you work with this book, the prose or the choices made, how do you make criticisms about what happens without feeling like you're making critiques of what happened?
This is why it's dangerous to write books like this, I think. By "dangerous" I don't mean "unwise." I just mean that you'd have to be able to separate yourself from it in some way without feeling like you're at a distance. You have to write as you, but also not.
The book does have a lot to say about the right to die, and the right to let your child die. I'm not really interested in getting into it because, well, I have my opinions and I would be very surprised if a book changed those opinions. Yes, miracles happen and people recover. But as the book says, nobody reports the story on the news that goes, "Guy who was in coma for 3 years dies." Or, "Baby who was not expected to live 3 months doesn't." For me, it's the ultimate in Judge Not Lets Blah Blah Blah situations. If each person is a beautiful miracle, then each person is going to have their own experiences, preferences, and decisions.
It's my strong belief that we'd be a lot better off if we stopped trying to legislate or law-ify end-of-life decisions and instead worked on creating the support systems that allow people to make their own decisions and then help them and their loved ones through assistive services and counseling.
And for the love of fuck, make a will. The kind that tells people what to do if you're in a coma for ten years.
The book also says that some people are creating these sorts of documents for their unborn children as well, as a precaution if something happens. Let's face it, if you get most of the way there and suddenly find out things have gone awry, are you going to be clearheaded and ready to make that decision? It's a bit morbid. But a tool that people use to take your decision-making away from you will always be "She is in no condition to make that kind of choice right now." You can hang on to that power if you plan ahead a bit, and you can reassure yourself if you can look back at your feelings from a time when you were of sound mind and body.
There is one other thing.
Something about me, making jokes has been my defense for a long, long time. It's a natural thing, I think. I wasn't ever a big guy or talented in any sort of way that would set me apart. And honestly, the best way I found to defuse getting picked on when I was younger was to say something better and meaner than the person picking on me. Plus, I think that if you don't take yourself seriously, it's harder for people to make fun of you. It's hard for someone to give you a hard time about your car being a piece of shit when you've already said it, and said it better.
So in that way, jokes were always a defense. And a bit of a weapon.
Whenever I felt things getting serious, I'd make a joke. To lighten the mood. For a long time, I thought this was the right thing to do because, well, I didn't really want to be a part of anyone's heavy stuff.
What happens, though, is that sometimes other people need you to be part of their heavy stuff. And if you beg off with a joke, that hurts.
Reading this book brought me back to one of those times. In the book, the author is pretty unforgiving of some people and the way the act and react towards the birth and brief life of Silvan. I'm not passing judgment on how she feels, felt, or would repeat the same things. The book, its strength definitely comes in its honesty, and she lays out her feelings whether they are fair or not and doesn't spend a lot of time saying, "In the moment it was this way, now it's that way."
It got me wondering, thinking that in these intense types of things, people probably hold a grudge. Rightly so.
A few years ago someone I consider a friend had a tough situation. I didn't really know about it, didn't talk to her directly about it. But the topic came up. In relation to electronic candles of all things.
I'd never even heard of electronic candles. The idea was a complete mystery to me. They even smelled like vanilla candles, the real kind.
She'd been through something tough. And I didn't really know, but it's not a good excuse for the fact that I made a joke about it. A bad one. A tasteless one.
There's a lot of discussion about what kind of jokes are okay and what aren't. About whether intent matters or not. Can I make a rape joke? Can I make a Holocaust joke? That kind of stuff.
Intent does matter to me. Because when I make the wrong kind of joke, it helps me when I'm in bed and not sleeping to be able to honestly think, "I didn't mean to hurt anyone." The intent thing doesn't usually help the person who was hurt, but it helps me, so I have to maintain that it matters.
I can make whatever kind of joke I want. As long as I'm up to facing the consequences of that joke.
If I can make a joke and feel that someone was overly or irrationally mad about it, it's easier to get over it. Again, not EASY. I spend a lot of time replaying conversations in my mind. Even the ones where someone misheard me or didn't get me, I blame myself for those. So the ones where they understood and were hurt, those are agonizing.
But as jokes go, they can't be about making sure they don't hurt anyone's feelings. Anything you do, whether it's joking or writing or drawing, you'll never be able to do it if you're always thinking about whether or not it might hurt someone else. If you write with your family and friends and teachers and the guy across from you at the coffee shop all deciding what's okay, it's not your work anymore, not your voice. It's theirs.
After reading this book, after thinking about that time and those electronic candles that smelled like real vanilla candles, I did decide on the one kind of joke I won't tell. The kind of joke that's for getting out of heavy stuff. The kind of joke that wants to come busting out whenever I get involved in something serious, someone sad or very happy or proud or feeling something that's hard to rank and qualify. The kind of joke that's shoots out as a defense against being a real person.
That's the kind of joke that I'm removing from my repertoire.
And to that person with the fake candles that smelled like real vanilla, I'm very, very sorry.
I have no real earthly idea how a person would workshop or edit something like this. This, the story of a baby born so severely brain damaged that the parents choose to let him die. The loss in the book only begins there. How do you work with this book, the prose or the choices made, how do you make criticisms about what happens without feeling like you're making critiques of what happened?
This is why it's dangerous to write books like this, I think. By "dangerous" I don't mean "unwise." I just mean that you'd have to be able to separate yourself from it in some way without feeling like you're at a distance. You have to write as you, but also not.
The book does have a lot to say about the right to die, and the right to let your child die. I'm not really interested in getting into it because, well, I have my opinions and I would be very surprised if a book changed those opinions. Yes, miracles happen and people recover. But as the book says, nobody reports the story on the news that goes, "Guy who was in coma for 3 years dies." Or, "Baby who was not expected to live 3 months doesn't." For me, it's the ultimate in Judge Not Lets Blah Blah Blah situations. If each person is a beautiful miracle, then each person is going to have their own experiences, preferences, and decisions.
It's my strong belief that we'd be a lot better off if we stopped trying to legislate or law-ify end-of-life decisions and instead worked on creating the support systems that allow people to make their own decisions and then help them and their loved ones through assistive services and counseling.
And for the love of fuck, make a will. The kind that tells people what to do if you're in a coma for ten years.
The book also says that some people are creating these sorts of documents for their unborn children as well, as a precaution if something happens. Let's face it, if you get most of the way there and suddenly find out things have gone awry, are you going to be clearheaded and ready to make that decision? It's a bit morbid. But a tool that people use to take your decision-making away from you will always be "She is in no condition to make that kind of choice right now." You can hang on to that power if you plan ahead a bit, and you can reassure yourself if you can look back at your feelings from a time when you were of sound mind and body.
There is one other thing.
Something about me, making jokes has been my defense for a long, long time. It's a natural thing, I think. I wasn't ever a big guy or talented in any sort of way that would set me apart. And honestly, the best way I found to defuse getting picked on when I was younger was to say something better and meaner than the person picking on me. Plus, I think that if you don't take yourself seriously, it's harder for people to make fun of you. It's hard for someone to give you a hard time about your car being a piece of shit when you've already said it, and said it better.
So in that way, jokes were always a defense. And a bit of a weapon.
Whenever I felt things getting serious, I'd make a joke. To lighten the mood. For a long time, I thought this was the right thing to do because, well, I didn't really want to be a part of anyone's heavy stuff.
What happens, though, is that sometimes other people need you to be part of their heavy stuff. And if you beg off with a joke, that hurts.
Reading this book brought me back to one of those times. In the book, the author is pretty unforgiving of some people and the way the act and react towards the birth and brief life of Silvan. I'm not passing judgment on how she feels, felt, or would repeat the same things. The book, its strength definitely comes in its honesty, and she lays out her feelings whether they are fair or not and doesn't spend a lot of time saying, "In the moment it was this way, now it's that way."
It got me wondering, thinking that in these intense types of things, people probably hold a grudge. Rightly so.
A few years ago someone I consider a friend had a tough situation. I didn't really know about it, didn't talk to her directly about it. But the topic came up. In relation to electronic candles of all things.
I'd never even heard of electronic candles. The idea was a complete mystery to me. They even smelled like vanilla candles, the real kind.
She'd been through something tough. And I didn't really know, but it's not a good excuse for the fact that I made a joke about it. A bad one. A tasteless one.
There's a lot of discussion about what kind of jokes are okay and what aren't. About whether intent matters or not. Can I make a rape joke? Can I make a Holocaust joke? That kind of stuff.
Intent does matter to me. Because when I make the wrong kind of joke, it helps me when I'm in bed and not sleeping to be able to honestly think, "I didn't mean to hurt anyone." The intent thing doesn't usually help the person who was hurt, but it helps me, so I have to maintain that it matters.
I can make whatever kind of joke I want. As long as I'm up to facing the consequences of that joke.
If I can make a joke and feel that someone was overly or irrationally mad about it, it's easier to get over it. Again, not EASY. I spend a lot of time replaying conversations in my mind. Even the ones where someone misheard me or didn't get me, I blame myself for those. So the ones where they understood and were hurt, those are agonizing.
But as jokes go, they can't be about making sure they don't hurt anyone's feelings. Anything you do, whether it's joking or writing or drawing, you'll never be able to do it if you're always thinking about whether or not it might hurt someone else. If you write with your family and friends and teachers and the guy across from you at the coffee shop all deciding what's okay, it's not your work anymore, not your voice. It's theirs.
After reading this book, after thinking about that time and those electronic candles that smelled like real vanilla candles, I did decide on the one kind of joke I won't tell. The kind of joke that's for getting out of heavy stuff. The kind of joke that wants to come busting out whenever I get involved in something serious, someone sad or very happy or proud or feeling something that's hard to rank and qualify. The kind of joke that's shoots out as a defense against being a real person.
That's the kind of joke that I'm removing from my repertoire.
And to that person with the fake candles that smelled like real vanilla, I'm very, very sorry.
March 24, 2013
You'd think a book about the short life and death of a brain-damaged baby would be (1) depressing and (2) maudlin or sentimental, but this is completely *not* the case for Holding Silvan.
Monica Wesolowska writes about this experience with clarity and wisdom. What shines through is the love that she and her husband felt for Silvan, where they made the decision not to use extreme measures to keep him alive but instead to give him the best possible life and to hold him for every minute of his 38 days.
What also shines through is the love and connection of their community. Friends and family came to hold Silvan -- even people who barely knew Wesolowska and her husband came to hold him.
Wesolowska places her decisions about Silvan's treatment and care in the context of other significant moments in her life, such as her childhood religious upbringing and the death of her father. She also places it in the context of today's health care -- where pretty much no one, whether 90 years old or nine days old, dies without having to make decisions about technological measures and "how far should we go."
This book will make you think about the medical decisions we all are likely to face; the different and unexpected forms that love can take; and the beauty of our very transient lives.
Oh yeah.... also, I couldn't out it down. :-)
Monica Wesolowska writes about this experience with clarity and wisdom. What shines through is the love that she and her husband felt for Silvan, where they made the decision not to use extreme measures to keep him alive but instead to give him the best possible life and to hold him for every minute of his 38 days.
What also shines through is the love and connection of their community. Friends and family came to hold Silvan -- even people who barely knew Wesolowska and her husband came to hold him.
Wesolowska places her decisions about Silvan's treatment and care in the context of other significant moments in her life, such as her childhood religious upbringing and the death of her father. She also places it in the context of today's health care -- where pretty much no one, whether 90 years old or nine days old, dies without having to make decisions about technological measures and "how far should we go."
This book will make you think about the medical decisions we all are likely to face; the different and unexpected forms that love can take; and the beauty of our very transient lives.
Oh yeah.... also, I couldn't out it down. :-)
March 31, 2013
Holding Silvan is radiant with love and brilliantly written. I absolutely could not stop reading, and when I looked up, hours had gone by. It's a wonderful and deeply moving book about Love, and how to love fully no matter how briefly. It's also a fascinating exploration of the ethics involved in right-to-death issues. Never grim and never sugar-coated, Wesolowska tells her story of holding her baby -- for weeks -- as he died from brain injuries sustained during delivery with full-frontal honesty, and with beautiful writing that carries every nuance of this difficult but never depressing memoir.
May 15, 2013
I received this book as a Goodreads give away.
Holding Silvan
Wow, what a book to review. It’s no spoiler to say that the author has written this book about her experience with her infant’s death. The author was a little hard for me as a person to warm to or relate to. At least in the beginning. She is just so darn matter of fact about things. She and her husband are an odd combination of belief systems, which is of course a huge factor in the life of anyone who is losing a child. She is a non-practicing catholic. Raised actively in the faith, now in that no man’s land where she doesn’t attend any church or claim allegiance to any faith and yet she is still subconsciously steeped in the faith of her raising. Her husband is an atheist Jew (He says being Jewish is not religious, it’s cultural. I would disagree but whatever.)
Basically she keeps a journal as they go through the trauma of finding out that their child, appearing very physically healthy, has suffered some undetermined trauma at birth and is by all definition, destined to remain in a vegetative state as long as he lives, and that may not be long and will be full of difficulty. They are faced with the decision to try and keep him alive, though he will never come out of his coma and will regularly be in crisis, or let him die, which decision in and of its self is a field of full of landmines.
This is a story that will have you thinking long and hard about many personal beliefs. What are your beliefs about God and religion? How about the value of human life and where does human life begin and end? Who decides when it ends and how? What is “natural” death in a time where medicine can keep most people alive indefinitely despite their body’s efforts to die? These become huge factors at the point where this poor couple thought they would be at home showing off their new son, not determining the time and manner of his death.
I know what my personal beliefs are, but I also can see how it would be hard to fit your personal beliefs into every situation. I truly believe in leaving the decision to die up to God. However, what if he has made that decision and the hospital keeps the person alive anyway? I also believe that God gives us agency to make decisions and will allow our decisions to affect the outcome of events. The baby was revived several times. Now when they take him off the various life supports, he doesn’t die, but his prognosis is still the same. They can’t euthanize him; if they want to let him die naturally, they have to let him starve. Or, because he can’t eat properly, he is likely to get fluid in his lungs and die of pneumonia. How on earth can that be better than euthanizing? Either way, it seems to me that this is a question which should always be left up to the family and no one else.
No matter what your personal beliefs are about euthanasia and death, it is a very hard mixed-up area to navigate when things don’t happen in a clear and quick manner. When his body breathes on it’s own, but he still has no brain activity, when it seems like he would be able to drink a bottle, but also that may very likely give him pneumonia from which he would die, what do you chose? Feed the breathing baby who can suck a bottle and let him die from pneumonia? Don’t feed him and let him starve? It’s a nasty decision no matter what and it would certainly be beyond any of us to judge the decision another person makes.
By the end of the book I like her more. She is better able to love her child after she has been able to determine where things are headed and after she has made the hard decisions. It’s almost as if after she makes the decisions she makes, then she holds on to every bit of him that she can, as long as she can.
I have a friend who recently lost a child she had fostered for a long time. The baby had been born with a disease that guaranteed she would die young. She lived the first year of her life in a hospital, with no parents or family to love her. The nurses tried to give her the love a baby should get. Eventually my friend was found as someone qualified as a medical foster parent. They brought the baby home and she lived with them for about a year and a half before she died. Even knowing that she would die, they gave her so much love. The situation is of course different, she was able to respond to them and sign some words etc., even if she stayed pretty much like a baby for the two years eight months of her life. She had an active brain, but a medical condition that wouldn’t let her grow. The baby in this book was unable to recognize or respond to anyone, but I think he still needed the love as well. It was wonderful to read about their constant love and care for him (some parents just walk away) and the love and care given by nurses and friends as well.
A sad story, but a happy story too. Definitely a story of love by the end. Definitely a story to make you really stop and consider your belief system and your relation to life and death situations.
Holding Silvan
Wow, what a book to review. It’s no spoiler to say that the author has written this book about her experience with her infant’s death. The author was a little hard for me as a person to warm to or relate to. At least in the beginning. She is just so darn matter of fact about things. She and her husband are an odd combination of belief systems, which is of course a huge factor in the life of anyone who is losing a child. She is a non-practicing catholic. Raised actively in the faith, now in that no man’s land where she doesn’t attend any church or claim allegiance to any faith and yet she is still subconsciously steeped in the faith of her raising. Her husband is an atheist Jew (He says being Jewish is not religious, it’s cultural. I would disagree but whatever.)
Basically she keeps a journal as they go through the trauma of finding out that their child, appearing very physically healthy, has suffered some undetermined trauma at birth and is by all definition, destined to remain in a vegetative state as long as he lives, and that may not be long and will be full of difficulty. They are faced with the decision to try and keep him alive, though he will never come out of his coma and will regularly be in crisis, or let him die, which decision in and of its self is a field of full of landmines.
This is a story that will have you thinking long and hard about many personal beliefs. What are your beliefs about God and religion? How about the value of human life and where does human life begin and end? Who decides when it ends and how? What is “natural” death in a time where medicine can keep most people alive indefinitely despite their body’s efforts to die? These become huge factors at the point where this poor couple thought they would be at home showing off their new son, not determining the time and manner of his death.
I know what my personal beliefs are, but I also can see how it would be hard to fit your personal beliefs into every situation. I truly believe in leaving the decision to die up to God. However, what if he has made that decision and the hospital keeps the person alive anyway? I also believe that God gives us agency to make decisions and will allow our decisions to affect the outcome of events. The baby was revived several times. Now when they take him off the various life supports, he doesn’t die, but his prognosis is still the same. They can’t euthanize him; if they want to let him die naturally, they have to let him starve. Or, because he can’t eat properly, he is likely to get fluid in his lungs and die of pneumonia. How on earth can that be better than euthanizing? Either way, it seems to me that this is a question which should always be left up to the family and no one else.
No matter what your personal beliefs are about euthanasia and death, it is a very hard mixed-up area to navigate when things don’t happen in a clear and quick manner. When his body breathes on it’s own, but he still has no brain activity, when it seems like he would be able to drink a bottle, but also that may very likely give him pneumonia from which he would die, what do you chose? Feed the breathing baby who can suck a bottle and let him die from pneumonia? Don’t feed him and let him starve? It’s a nasty decision no matter what and it would certainly be beyond any of us to judge the decision another person makes.
By the end of the book I like her more. She is better able to love her child after she has been able to determine where things are headed and after she has made the hard decisions. It’s almost as if after she makes the decisions she makes, then she holds on to every bit of him that she can, as long as she can.
I have a friend who recently lost a child she had fostered for a long time. The baby had been born with a disease that guaranteed she would die young. She lived the first year of her life in a hospital, with no parents or family to love her. The nurses tried to give her the love a baby should get. Eventually my friend was found as someone qualified as a medical foster parent. They brought the baby home and she lived with them for about a year and a half before she died. Even knowing that she would die, they gave her so much love. The situation is of course different, she was able to respond to them and sign some words etc., even if she stayed pretty much like a baby for the two years eight months of her life. She had an active brain, but a medical condition that wouldn’t let her grow. The baby in this book was unable to recognize or respond to anyone, but I think he still needed the love as well. It was wonderful to read about their constant love and care for him (some parents just walk away) and the love and care given by nurses and friends as well.
A sad story, but a happy story too. Definitely a story of love by the end. Definitely a story to make you really stop and consider your belief system and your relation to life and death situations.
January 5, 2017
Holding Silvan is a narrative of love. It’s both heart wrenching and devastating to endure Monica’s journey with her. Yet, overwhelmingly, Monica’s love for Silvan is stronger than Silvan’s death. Her love outshines tragedy. This makes the story (dare I say) hopeful. By the end of the book, I am welling with my own love for Silvan. I feel like I’ve held him and known him and I am better off because of it. Silvan’s legacy is bright and beautiful, and I feel lucky to carry this brightness and beauty with me, having read his story.
Monica’s writing style is stunning. The chapter openings are thought-provoking and compelling and their conclusions are satiating and profound. I dog-eared many pages. There are lines I want to return to, such as: “We were young and we were going to survive the dying all around us.” Who hasn’t felt invincibility in their youth? Who hasn’t felt the crushing realization that we are all mortal? That we will lose the people we love? That they will lose us?
I love when David asks Monica “to examine her deepest most secret self.” How he exposes parts of her soul that she didn’t realize she possesed. How they understand that letting Silvan go is a decision that is best for everyone involved.
I also love the beauty in Monica’s goodbye to Silvan, how she received the moment the way she had asked for it. The beauty of the trees full of birds and the light in the green and the bravery of her hope will linger for me.
There are sentiments that Monica puts words to, which I haven’t heard anyone else do, such as “My grief for Silvan feels so particular – no one else in the world can miss him as much as I do…” Whomever we’re grieving, we feel like the only person in the world. Yet, grief is probably the most universally experienced human feeling. It’s hard to remember this when we’re in the thick of it.
And this: “Having grieved before – having practiced on flies and old men, having lost a brother, a father, a friend – does not make me immune. It only makes me more patient, perhaps, with the feeling – the dry mouth, the foggy head, the sense of isolation.” Having grieved deeply more than once, I know this to be true. It helps me feel not alone.
SPOILER ALERT: And when Monica holds her second child, Miles, in her arms, she deftly depicts the double helix of joy and suffering that always is: “I feel both Miles’ warm weight in my arms and the absence of Silvan, amazed I can feel both extremes at once.” How perfect that sentence is. How exquisitely stated. This elicited tears.
“If there is a miracle to this story, it is that he is remembered.” “Love outlasts grief.” Yes, Monica, Sylvan is lovingly remembered by one more person today. I am not someone who has met him, but as you have said, “in death he can belong to anyone who wants him.” I am honored to have Silvan’s story belong to me. That his gentle and kind and beautiful nature enriches my life and my psyche. What a lovely mother you are.
October 12, 2013
I was deeply moved by this book about a mother whose first son lives a little bit more than a month. Monica's writing style is so honest and open.
She talks about real feelings There is anger as she lashes out at the doctors who can't help and can't face death themselves. There are the loving nurses, the mother-in-law who does not know what to do, the anguished husband and well-meaning but offensive friends. I appreciated the breadth and depth of her feelings that she expresses so accurately as she describes the messiness of dealing with death of a loved one.
I wanted to read the book in one sitting. I was angry when life interrupted me and I could not finish. This book is about so much more than death. It is first and foremost about love.
Here is my favorite line in the book. I remember feeling this way too watching my loved ones suffer before death:
"Desperate for him to stop breathing, I am in love with every breath he takes."
She talks about real feelings There is anger as she lashes out at the doctors who can't help and can't face death themselves. There are the loving nurses, the mother-in-law who does not know what to do, the anguished husband and well-meaning but offensive friends. I appreciated the breadth and depth of her feelings that she expresses so accurately as she describes the messiness of dealing with death of a loved one.
I wanted to read the book in one sitting. I was angry when life interrupted me and I could not finish. This book is about so much more than death. It is first and foremost about love.
Here is my favorite line in the book. I remember feeling this way too watching my loved ones suffer before death:
"Desperate for him to stop breathing, I am in love with every breath he takes."
Read
October 17, 2013Grief memoirs are plentiful. Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking and Francisco Goldman’s Say Her Name come to mind. Topics of death and dying in our culture are not as stigmatized when they pertain to terminal illness or accidental death. However, we see a serious lack when it comes to books about grieving the babies we may lose to miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death. In taking us step-by-step through Silvan’s brief life and lasting significance, Wesolowska’s memoir provides a bridge across that gulf, both for bereaved parents and those who know them.
Read Literary Mama's full review here: http://www.literarymama.com/reviews/a...
Read Literary Mama's full review here: http://www.literarymama.com/reviews/a...
March 21, 2013
A beautiful ode to a newborn son who died. How do we honor a baby's life, however brief? What constitutes a life worth living? How can we make a horribly tragic death more meaningful? These and other questions faced Monica and her husband when their son Silvan was born with severe brain damage. In this brave book, Monica recounts their decision to bring their son home instead of leaving him to die in the impersonal surroundings of the hospital, and the agonizing, moment-by-momentness of that decision. Through it all, her love for Silvan shines through.
July 12, 2013
The topic of this memoir is gripping—perhaps daunting to some—but read it not just for the unique story and complex perspective on an ethical issue most would avoid talking about in private, let alone public; read it for the spare, striking prose and unsentimental observations of real people in the midst of as well as on the frontlines and periphery of tragedy. Wesolowska wastes no time on platitudes and banalities. She tells the raw truth, the one we all live, whatever our griefs and joys.
June 5, 2014
Slim and beautiful memoir of the death of a newborn first child. That makes it sound unbearable but while it is appropriately sad, the book is also full of insights, humor, love and honesty and without saccharine so a total pleasure to read
August 21, 2015
Add this to the list of incredibly difficult things to read. Monica Wesolowska gives birth to a perfect son after a typical pregnancy, but it's clear from the beginning that there is something very wrong with her son Silvan. She and her husband David are forced to make an incredibly difficult decision: do they continue to keep their son alive, even though he will only exist in a vegetative state for the rest of his life, or do they allow their son to die with dignity?
This was very difficult for me to read, especially the details of Silvan's birth. "I have learned that when a baby is in distress he defecates, that his defecation is called meconium, and that meconium is dangerous if he inhales it. I know the meconium had alerted the doctors to Silvan's distress, the meconium and his subsequent lethargy, the lethargy that had scared David so much while I lay there in my post-partum haze" (50). My first child had also defecated before birth, and was ultimately air-lifted the night she was born to a children's hospital in Seattle, across the Puget Sound from where I had given birth to her. Fortunately, my baby survived her ordeal (she'll be 11 in October), but to read about baby Silvan and the similarities to my Grace was very sobering. There but for the grace of God (or whatever governs these things), go I.
I'm also impressed by how honest Wesolowska is in her memoir. She doesn't sugar-coat anything, how raw her grief is to how much she resents people who just don't understand her grief. Personally, I hold none of it against her; I haven't lost a child of my own in such a lingering and terrible way, I've never had to make the decision to allow my child to die; I don't feel as though I am qualified to judge her in any way. For what it's worth, I do think she made the correct decision for Silvan, even though it caused her and her husband David so much pain.
But there's a lot of hope in this book. The memorial she creates to Silvan in her backyard seems to be such a beautiful place, and I love that she will always acknowledge and honor him. He was here; he lived; he brought his parents joy. He should be remembered.
This was very difficult for me to read, especially the details of Silvan's birth. "I have learned that when a baby is in distress he defecates, that his defecation is called meconium, and that meconium is dangerous if he inhales it. I know the meconium had alerted the doctors to Silvan's distress, the meconium and his subsequent lethargy, the lethargy that had scared David so much while I lay there in my post-partum haze" (50). My first child had also defecated before birth, and was ultimately air-lifted the night she was born to a children's hospital in Seattle, across the Puget Sound from where I had given birth to her. Fortunately, my baby survived her ordeal (she'll be 11 in October), but to read about baby Silvan and the similarities to my Grace was very sobering. There but for the grace of God (or whatever governs these things), go I.
I'm also impressed by how honest Wesolowska is in her memoir. She doesn't sugar-coat anything, how raw her grief is to how much she resents people who just don't understand her grief. Personally, I hold none of it against her; I haven't lost a child of my own in such a lingering and terrible way, I've never had to make the decision to allow my child to die; I don't feel as though I am qualified to judge her in any way. For what it's worth, I do think she made the correct decision for Silvan, even though it caused her and her husband David so much pain.
But there's a lot of hope in this book. The memorial she creates to Silvan in her backyard seems to be such a beautiful place, and I love that she will always acknowledge and honor him. He was here; he lived; he brought his parents joy. He should be remembered.
April 23, 2013
"I asked to borrow this book from a friend when I saw it at her house and read the beginning, then ended up buying it for myself and reading the whole rest of it in one sitting while I told husband, children, and dog to leave me alone for heaven's sake. Reading this book feels very important because of the story it tells: a couple struggling to understand and make decisions after their first born child suffers massive brain damage during delivery.
This is a memoir and Weslowska doesn't back away from any of the difficult ethical and emotional issues that faced her as she and her husband walked this harrowing path. The book itself is a day by day account. You really feel like you're living through it with her, because of her excellent skill in description and the flow of the writing which is smooth and dexterous.
This book is so important right now with so many of us having to make difficult decisions regarding quality of life and end of life for loved ones who are unable to decide. Weslowska walks us through the whole process, the difficulty of what we can know and what we can't with our newly found technological ability to extend life. I highly recommend this book. It's a must read for anyone who works with children facing life threatening illnesse, also for those in a hospice situation, or those with family members who are having to make these decisions. And most of all for those of us who will have to face these decisions ourselves, eventually, which means, I fear, just about all of us."
This is a memoir and Weslowska doesn't back away from any of the difficult ethical and emotional issues that faced her as she and her husband walked this harrowing path. The book itself is a day by day account. You really feel like you're living through it with her, because of her excellent skill in description and the flow of the writing which is smooth and dexterous.
This book is so important right now with so many of us having to make difficult decisions regarding quality of life and end of life for loved ones who are unable to decide. Weslowska walks us through the whole process, the difficulty of what we can know and what we can't with our newly found technological ability to extend life. I highly recommend this book. It's a must read for anyone who works with children facing life threatening illnesse, also for those in a hospice situation, or those with family members who are having to make these decisions. And most of all for those of us who will have to face these decisions ourselves, eventually, which means, I fear, just about all of us."
December 9, 2013
*****I received this book from a Goodreads giveaway in exchange for an honest review*****
When I first learned that I would be given a chance to read this book I was extremely excited! I was hooked from the moment I read the synopsis of the story. I knew it wasn't going to be an easy read. There wasn't going to be a happy ending to Silvan's story. But FINALLY someone was willing to tell their story so the world can understand what it is like for families to lose a child, as this happens all too often with little to no support from those who have not experienced it themselves!
I don't even know how to describe how I felt after reading this book! The love that the author and her husband showed for Silvan was truly beautiful. Some may question the decisions that were made in this book, but in the end it isn't about anyone else. It was about the author and her husband and what they felt was best for Silvan. Reading this book made me realize that sometimes it isn't about holding on to life, rather it is about letting go so someone can truly live. I applaud the author for sharing her story with the world and thank her for allowing me the chance to learn and grow from it.
When I first learned that I would be given a chance to read this book I was extremely excited! I was hooked from the moment I read the synopsis of the story. I knew it wasn't going to be an easy read. There wasn't going to be a happy ending to Silvan's story. But FINALLY someone was willing to tell their story so the world can understand what it is like for families to lose a child, as this happens all too often with little to no support from those who have not experienced it themselves!
I don't even know how to describe how I felt after reading this book! The love that the author and her husband showed for Silvan was truly beautiful. Some may question the decisions that were made in this book, but in the end it isn't about anyone else. It was about the author and her husband and what they felt was best for Silvan. Reading this book made me realize that sometimes it isn't about holding on to life, rather it is about letting go so someone can truly live. I applaud the author for sharing her story with the world and thank her for allowing me the chance to learn and grow from it.
August 13, 2013
I loved this book. My sister loved it, and so did my daughter. I cried, of course, when I read it, in the Mall of America while waiting for one of my other daughters to finish shopping with her friend. It is very sad. My oldest daughter mentioned to me today that she read it, thought it was a wonderful book, and that she cried on the subway reading it in Taipei. It's powerful. Well worth a read. So much so that I read it twice more. It is very well written, and very touching -- a wonderful tribute to newborn baby Silvan who was born with a fatal brain injury. Silvan's birth and his condition takes the author on a journey of exploration of this very difficult subject of death in a sensitive and honest way that compels us to go along with her. I felt the better for having done so, via this book. So glad the author wrote this. So glad I read it.
June 23, 2013
I have to admit having known what this book was about, it took me a few months of glancing at it on my bedside table to finally get the courage to read it. That being said, I would urge others not to wait so long to read this incredible book !
The author has bravely written about an agonizing life experience . Her visceral love for her dying child is so beautifully portrayed and pulls you quickly into her story. She writes with honesty , clarity in the mist of uncertainty and even slips in everyday bits of humor. This is of course heartbreaking for all involved yet the amazing story of how she and her husband navigated this tragedy and beyond is truly heroic and a story you won't forget.
The author has bravely written about an agonizing life experience . Her visceral love for her dying child is so beautifully portrayed and pulls you quickly into her story. She writes with honesty , clarity in the mist of uncertainty and even slips in everyday bits of humor. This is of course heartbreaking for all involved yet the amazing story of how she and her husband navigated this tragedy and beyond is truly heroic and a story you won't forget.
March 24, 2013
I think the quote from Vaclav Havel in the beginning of the book really sets the tone: "Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out." This book really is about the triumph of hope in the purest sense--hope that love will conquer all, even death. To not turn away, but to have the courage to face and bear immeasurable pain in the conviction that love itself is enough--this is humbling to read and consider. Beautifully written and brave.
July 9, 2013
I bought this almost strictly because it was a Hawthorne Book and I love all their books. Well this one, I knew was a tough premise and I knew was going to be an emotional read, as I read it during the month of the anniversary of my father's passing. But Monica Wesolowska handles the story so tenderly and lovingly and even though there was so much sadness in the story, the love burst straight off the page and into the readers' heart. Thank you Monica for sharing Silvan's story. He is amazing.
July 5, 2013
This is a powerful memoir that, despite the weight of the topic, and the terrible and unique situation in which the author and her partner found themselves, seemed to me like a novel with both a compelling story and characters whose choices, reactions, and interactions surprised me and kept me reading. The fact that Wesolowska kept the self-pity at bay allowed the story to unfold for me in a very raw way.
March 15, 2013
This is a beautiful book. While it is easy to look at the death of a baby and see only the tragedy, here we are also treated to seeing a lifetime of love, distilled into six weeks. This is not an easy read. It may challenge your beliefs about life, death. But you should read it because, more than anything, it is a love story, and a beautiful one at that.
May 19, 2013
I don't usually actually review books but since I won this is a goodreads giveaway I thought I would write a little review for it.
I normally don't read this kid of book, but this was good! It was kind of mature for me but it was still interesting. I'm sure if I read it in the future I will have a better understanding of the situations and the choices that had to be made.
I normally don't read this kid of book, but this was good! It was kind of mature for me but it was still interesting. I'm sure if I read it in the future I will have a better understanding of the situations and the choices that had to be made.
March 25, 2013
*I received a copy of this book via Goodreads giveaways - thank you!!*
Wow. What a heartbreakingly beautiful little book. And it is not just for moms - it's for anyone with a heart. Her honesty is truly humbling.
At this point (waaay past my bedtime) I don't know what more I can say. Just read it. I recommend it to everybody.
Wow. What a heartbreakingly beautiful little book. And it is not just for moms - it's for anyone with a heart. Her honesty is truly humbling.
At this point (waaay past my bedtime) I don't know what more I can say. Just read it. I recommend it to everybody.
April 29, 2013
This is a refreshingly straightforward and honest account of losing a newborn child due to a brain injury that occurred during birth. Although it is not made explicit in the book and I wasn't able to verify online, I believe the hospital where most of the book takes place is Children's Hospital Oakland.
December 2, 2013
This memoir was incredible. I saw a recommendation online as a side of parenting you don't see a lot of writing about, making the choice to let a child go. I cried several times but what sticks with me is how much joy the author and her husband and the rest of her family took in the time they had with their son.
May 8, 2013
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
This was a really beautiful book. It was heartbreaking. It just really broke my heart. This book is very well written. I definitely recommend it.
This was a really beautiful book. It was heartbreaking. It just really broke my heart. This book is very well written. I definitely recommend it.
July 5, 2013
An account of birth and a baby's month of life you don't see often. Monica Wesolowska's son Silvan suffers brain damage during birth and will ultimately die. Silvan's parents must make a heartbreaking decision as to how to best support him during his brief life.
July 19, 2013
This is a challenging book to read because it is a journey of grief and suffering. Yet, at the same time, it is about people loving the best they know how to in the midst of those times. It's not on us to necessarily agree with their choices but to trust they they did and loved their best.
I am also not the kind of person who believes every story should be overwhelmingly joyous. We are united with humanity through joy, yet just as much (if, perhaps more so) through grief.
I think this is a book that reminds us of our fragility, our humanity, and our calling to hold each other through the darkest of times. It makes us ask ourselves what we would do in equally difficult times. Maybe we won't have the answers, but maybe the answers aren't needed. And, really, who can guess how we will react when the shadows come? Perhaps it's best we cling to the hope that we will still love--and receive love--the best we possibly can. As always, I begin to wax philosophical after reading and thought- and heart-provoking book.
I am also not the kind of person who believes every story should be overwhelmingly joyous. We are united with humanity through joy, yet just as much (if, perhaps more so) through grief.
I think this is a book that reminds us of our fragility, our humanity, and our calling to hold each other through the darkest of times. It makes us ask ourselves what we would do in equally difficult times. Maybe we won't have the answers, but maybe the answers aren't needed. And, really, who can guess how we will react when the shadows come? Perhaps it's best we cling to the hope that we will still love--and receive love--the best we possibly can. As always, I begin to wax philosophical after reading and thought- and heart-provoking book.
Want to read
June 22, 2013Sarah Karr Crabtree brought this book to the Ladies Summer Reading Tea - 2013 - got choked up in telling about it - a newborn baby who doesn't live long (I believe). The Mult County Library doesn't have it for some reason which is frustrating because I just went to Powells and didn't remember I wanted it... Patience... or maybe I'll walk down there right now. Ah Summer! Need to mow the lawn, do some watering and weeding - but it's summer and the Ladies Summer Reading Tea book list is burning a hold in my pocket (would that be the correct use of that saying?... I mean does anyone get what I mean?)
September 7, 2013
Their son Silvan was denied oxygen during birth, rendering Silvan severly brain damaged and unable to live without life support. His parents made the tough choice to quit feeding him and it took far longer for him to die than anticipated. Oh for the day this won't happen!
Shelved as 'do-not-read'
December 2, 2013I'm putting this on my do-not-read list for now, because I just don't think I can deal with a book about a dying newborn, but at the same time I want to keep tabs on it because it sounds like a worthwhile read.
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