One of the most precious memories I have in the three days we got to spend with our daughter is the time we spent making her footprints.
We had two day nurses, M and E, who were integral in getting me over to Spokane sooner and who made that first day in the hospital for the Hubs tolerable. And M made the call one afternoon to do footprints.
We got to ink up her huge baby feet, press them on a few different pieces of paper, making sure to get every toe and every little wrinkle to translate from her foot to the paper.
M announced: “I do foot tattoos, too.”
This brought the masses to Hudson’s bedside. Everybody was clamoring to get a Hudson foot tattoo, starting with Daddy, who got it pressed to his forearm. Mommy next, pressing an inked foot to her own forearm, maybe the only tattoo I’d ever want. I can still see her little foot very faintly inked to my left forearm, trace the outline of our daughter’s abnormally large little “gunboat” (she takes after her momma with big feet).
Grandpas and grandmas and aunties and uncles and friends all came in to get a Hudson foot tattoo. Our buddy MStu, who is particularly hairy, came in for one, and Uncle M commented “Ooooh might need to go lower back!” My sister got Hudson’s foot tattooed to her right upper arm and posted the picture of it to Facebook with the words “Hudson Power!”
It really is the ultimate in fandome to want to have another person’s body parts tattooed on yourself, and Hudson had a lot of fans.
The last full day we spent with Hudson, we made a little model magic clay heart with the imprints of Hudson’s feet in it. It shows up better if you ink the feet, so we obliged, and Daddy Dub re-inked his foot tattoo.
The cooling process made it difficult for us to tell what kind of awareness Hudson had of her outside surroundings. I know Hudson knew I was her mommy, and that the Hubs was her daddy. One of the things that never failed to get a reaction out of Hudson was running my hands across the soles of her tiny-huge baby feet. She’d curl her toes and pull her legs back, “Eww that tickles!” Her precious little tootsies got a little dried out, and cracked, and they were a bit purple from the cooling process, but they were the most beautiful feet a mother could kiss.
The Hubs has long talked about different tattoos he might like to get, always getting vetoed by his wife (no, I don’t think it would be cool to get the Jagermeister stag tattooed across your back). But on the agonizing drive home from Spokane after our daughter passed away, the Hubs mentioned wanting to get a tattoo of Hudson’s feet, maybe with the word “Legendary” in my handwriting. I would get that tattoo.
I might get that tattoo.