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popwasabi · 4 years

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“Westworld III” takes several steps forward...and several steps back (REVIEW)

Created by Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy

Starring: Evan Rachel Wood, Jeffrey Wright, Aaron Paul, Ed Harris, Vincent Cassel, Tessa Thompson, Thandie Newton

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Season three of HBO’s “Westworld” cleans up many of the issues season two had but ultimately falls short of season one’s loftier thematic ideas.

It’s cinematically sharper, it’s about as well paced and fun as the show has ever been and that on it’s own makes it worth watching and certainly worth continuing the series going forward but for fans hoping it might have something new to say in the vein of its hyper meta-textual and thematic commentary of the first season it may leave you disappointed.

Season three may have raised the stakes of the series with its pending (and frankly, all too timely) apocalyptic vibes going on in the story but it lowers the bar on its cerebral nature opting more for fast paced thrills over anything more profound or hadn’t said already.

That said, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it anyways for better…and worse.

“Westworld” season three picks up not too long after the events of season two as Dolores has infiltrated human society and begun working on her master plan to bring it all down. She has spared Bernard, who now spends his life as butcher outside the major cities but he often wonders where she is and when this apocalypse will begin. Meanwhile a veteran named Caleb spends his life doing the same mundane tasks and mercenary work everyday to make ends meet pondering his existence as he deals with his PTSD. He decides to break the cycle however when one day he finds Dolores shot in an alleyway and joins her on her quest to start a revolution.

“Westworld” is one of the few series that hooked me immediately with its first episode.

Where some series take their time to gain momentum before going into overdrive in their season finale, season one’s “The Original” grabbed my attention from the start with a combination of mystery, action, stellar acting, and the kind of cerebral humanist story-telling I expect and want from the cyberpunk genre.

As someone with a father who talked extensively about myth, theme, and got me to listen to old Joseph Campbell essays on CD growing up, a series that explored story-telling on a meta level with a high octane LARP concept setting was everything someone like me could ask for in a science fiction series.

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(Seriously, there was some compelling analytical story-telling dialogue in this series.)

So invested I was in this tale of synthetics gaining agency and humans exploring their own personal myth-making and what it said about themselves made me a huge fan early on, proudly proclaiming it to be the best show on HBO several years ago.

I was so certain this series was creatively the best thing on television at the time that I strongly considered getting a maze tattoo like that in the show to proclaim my brand-new fandom.

But knowing there was still more seasons on the horizon, I held off thinking I should probably see this through before doing anything that brash.

Well, a few years later I feel pretty good about that decision…

(Imagine how fans who named their newborns Daenerys or Khalessi feel right now...)

I remember thinking at the end of season one “Where can they possibly go from here still? Other LARP destinations in this cyberpunk world? A robot vs human war? How can the world expand?”

The problem is these thoughts did not really ask the most important question following that first season; “What more does it actually have to say?”

The first season is, in my opinion, a perfect season of television. It’s a brilliant take on the stories we tell ourselves, the choices we make that define us in our personal myths, and the exploration of our nature and how that relates to choice all while playing out this synthetic mystery plot. The entire first season pulls all these arcs and ideas together through characters like Bernard/Arnold, William/The Man in Black, and of course Dolores. They all, more or less, complete their arcs in that first season and there’s not really much needed to be said beyond that when you really think about it. If the series ended on Dolores murdering Ford and the Delos guests in the season finale that honestly would have been a perfect ambiguous ending to send the story off on.

(Kind of itss own meta commentary on the journey of a fan and an ever-increasingly cynical series...)

But because this is HBO, and “Game of Thrones” is no longer the driving force of premium TV, Westworld MUST continue because it’s the new cash cow for the channel. Whether or not writer/producers Lisa Joy and Jonathan Nolan really knew what they wanted to do following that first season is anybody’s guess but it’s hard not to see that they have struggled a bit since that point.

Season two is a mixed bag, where the characters literally feel like they’re going in circles. Plotlines get muddled, characters become hyper versions of themselves, and while certain ideas and episodes reached similar levels of brilliance that the first season had it still lacked the narrative sharpness of the first season and that has a lot to do with the characters having mostly no other driving force besides survival and simply getting to the next physical plot point.

It just didn’t have much more to say and frankly in a story about stories that’s pretty damn important.

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(This episode from season 2 is still one of its best.)

To their credit, Joy and Nolan appear to rectify quite a few issues season two had with season three. Again, it’s faster, better paced, there’s a clearer destination at the end for its characters and not to mention a pretty compelling villain for this season’s plot in Serac played by the brilliant Vincent Cassell.

But it suffers ultimately the same problem; it has nothing truly new to say.

This is not to say the season is without any meaningful messages or metaphors. It’s quite critical of our hyper surveillance and information gathering state, might even be the best depiction to date on the broader implications and consequences of a world where we all have our personal information readily online to mined and plundered by big businesses and government. Caleb, played by the always great Aaron Paul, is a good avatar for the everyman who has grown jaded and disenfranchised by this system. Though he spends most of the season looking overly shocked and gape-jawed at just about everything, it’s hard not to feel empathy and a connection to this character as we are quite literally living in a bit of a cyberpunk hell as it is these days and treated just as much as expendable commodities right now.

(You fucking jackasses are arguing for the wrong things! You’re all being swindled and cheated for nothing! *photo “unrelated”*)

The season is generally best when the focus is on him, as the first episode delivers a strong start in the same way season one did.

Where the season begins to fall apart though is when quite literally the world “Westworld” inhabits begins to do so itself. Serac’s Rehobaum, which reminded me just a little too much of “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’s” Deep Thought, releasing all its data to the world and everyone discovering they’re basically all dangerous assholes is almost hilarious to me.

Though the idea of hyper data controlling our every move is a good cyberpunk metaphor to jump off of, the way this bit is executed is a little over exaggerated and clumsy.

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(Though it does deliver a pretty powerful scene regardless.)

This isn’t actually a tremendous problem with season three, but it doesn’t do much to add to what we already understand about the story; which is how narrative controls us and how important choices and free will is to that. All this is already told and expanded on in the first season through Dolores, all season three does it bring it to a macro level and put that onus on the humans instead of the hosts. The hosts were already a metaphor for humanity anyways so again the story in some ways hasn’t changed much since season one.

It's interesting to have the narrative of the hosts turned on the humans but thematically it feels redundant.

I’ll add that this isn’t the worst idea they could’ve gone with, it works in moving the physical aspect of the story forward for sure, and I wouldn’t even classify it as a bad one, but again the problem is the story has largely run out of new things to tell us.

We like stories because we want to learn some truth about ourselves, whether we want it to or not, and Anthony Hopkins’ Ford makes a great point of this in season one. This has been the purpose of myths and legends since the dawn of time and it’ll be no different even when the 37th Fast & Furious comes out in 40 years. You could argue that the message of Westworld deserves repeating or that it’s not important to the entertainment value it still provides, and you might be right. But for a series like this, that is so invested in what stories mean I don’t think it’s wrong to think there should be more to it than this.

(Maybe, I should’ve...)

Of course, there’s still plenty more to see out of “Westworld” for the foreseeable future as HBO won’t be canceling it anytime soon and certainly it’ll have its chance to still tackle more ideas and themes in the future but, at this point at least, it’s been less meaningful that its first season.

There are other problems too, namely Dolores constantly changing and unclear revolution plans and arcs resolved offscreen, certain side plots with other characters ultimately going nowhere, and a fairly predictable twist with Caleb, but this is the crux of the problem with the series as it stands now and the one worth mentioning the most.

(And Maeve, *sigh* oh Maeve...)

That said, season three really is a lot of fun despite my issues with the narrative. The pacing, as mentioned, is great from start to finish. I was never bored or disinterested during this season, despite its flaws, and the action bits are frankly better than they’ve ever been as the series goes full cyberpunk in parts with great robot on human and robot on robot action.

The cinematography is sharp and striking too as Jonathan Nolan shows he’s definitely Christopher’s brother with some beautiful, haunting shots of the future Los Angeles city Gotham-esque skyline set to Ramin Djawadi’s excellent cyberpunk score that gives the new season a more noire-ish feel that would make Vangelis and Hans Zimmer proud.

(In the future Los Angeles will be Singapore!)

The acting is still stellar of course. Though Jeffrey Wright’s Bernard is largely wasted in this season and his plot goes nowhere, his scene with Gina Torres in the finale is touching. Luke Hemsworth is dry as hell in a good way as Chief of Security turned personal buddy bodyguard to Bernard as Ashley Stubbs. Ed Harris is wicked and dastardly as always as William and of course Evan Rachel Wood is solid as the driving force of the series as Dolores.

(Out of context season 3 spoiler.)

The finale doesn’t leave much to say beyond a pending machine vs human war though which has been building up since the first season anyways. While I can see some possibilities for an interesting direction here, I can’t say I’m as intrigued as even the finale to season two left me.

In some ways, season one left me not too much unlike William going into season’s two and three; looking for additional meaning in something that wasn’t looking to tell me anything deeper, at least right now. Perhaps the maze just isn’t for me anymore but moving forward I’ll be lowering my expectations.

(Oh my God! Meta commentary on meta commentary! It’s meta-ception! I’m beginning to question the nature of my reality!!!)

“Westworld” remains a fun cyberpunk action series that can hold your attention span for an hour, and I think it’ll maintain that energy consistently going forward, but it might’ve been best left where it was when Dolores put a bullet in Ford’s brain.

I do hope it can regain some of its original spark at some point but until then…it doesn’t look like anything (deep) to me.

VERDICT:

3.5 out of 5

You said it, Marshawn...

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soovaryit · 7 years

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Lets talk about SSRI’S (wooooo)

I wrote this because a couple of years ago, I was in need of a non-sensationalist or provocative review of SSRI’s. This is obviously entirely subjective and my own experience, but when I was researching meds for depression on the internet, literally ALL I saw were horror stories. I appreciate that the horror stories do happen and no medication is to be taken lightly (even if, more often than not, doctors throw whatever they want at you without so much as a conversation). Also I appreciate that the internet is a shit storm of misinformation and you shouldn’t neccesarily being looking for medical advice on there but you know we’ve all done it. ANYWAY.

I went on Sertraline (an SSRI) at the exact right time in my life. I’d had a deeply awful year when it came to my health, relationships and money (just to name a few) and I felt completely hopeless and devoid of any strength, motivation or joy. I was in near constant pain with endometriosis and was reeling from a horrible yearlong encounter with someone I should never have known. I had quit my job(s), left everyone I knew behind and gone to a new city to re-join the world of academia after seven years. Looking back, I don’t know how I could have thought that going on medication was some kind of dramatic choice because I honestly would not have coped without it. For those who are wondering what the conversation with the GP goes like, they are usually keen to get you to into therapy whilst being on the medication and I found the combination very effective (and HARD of course but endlessly worth it). It’s really important that you be honest with them about all the bad feelings and don’t minimise them. A lot of the time as soon as your dark, upsetting thoughts are shared they become a lot less consuming. So even if you’re not at the stage where you want to talk to a doctor, you can try and confide in someone close to you (my inbox is always open and I will always listen – but please bear in mind that I don’t have medical knowledge and can only advise you based on my own experiences). At the same time as beng prescribed Sertraline, I was put on the waiting list for ‘Step 3 High-Intensity Counselling’, basically a talking therapy that explores your childhood and past experiences to help understand where your continuing feelings of depression might come from. The first few weeks of Sertraline were difficult but bearable, mainly anxiety and physical symptoms like twitching and leg restlessness that interrupted my sleep. I also experienced one of the rarer side effects – urticaria (which is a fancy way of saying I got really rashy and hivesy). Although my GP didn’t mention these side effects, I know that they’re pretty common and if you’re worried about any of them when you go on an SSRI I would definitely contact your GP to make sure all is well. The Sertraline was excellent for the following months and the course of therapy had helped me figure so much out. It was the reason I started this blog, started to feel that I could be more open about my mental and physical health and start to find my own boundaries when it came to relationships. The side effects did, however, catch up with me and these were the ones I couldn’t deal with. THE DREAMS. Up until I started these meds I had the most pleasantly dull dreams imaginable. Then along came these chemicals that made me have the most vivid, bizarre, twisted scenarios play out in my head every night. At first, I kind of found it funny - I would write them down on my phone and almost weirdly look forward to what I would dream about. But they turned from surreal and harmless to disturbing and triggering within a few months and I felt they were actually quite detrimental to my mental health. I became anxious about falling asleep and I would dream so deeply that I never felt I had properly woken up. Reality and dreams became blurred together in my memories and I sometimes felt as if I was losing my mind, unable to establish events that had actually happened from what was happening in my head when I slept.

Another significant side effect was the loss of human connection I felt. This is a weird one, and again a feeling I initially enjoyed as I’ve always been deeply empathetic and felt other people’s feelings almost to the point of discomfort. With Sertraline it honestly felt like a switch had been flipped and I could be the ‘rational’ person I thought I’d always wanted to be (contrary to now where I feel rationality has absolutely little value to me lolol). I enjoyed that feeling for a while. Having always been a deeply emotional person, I felt like I needed a break from myself – my overthinking, over loving, over everything – and again, Sertraline provided that. I threw myself into university work and absolutely adored it. I dated someone and was able to stay distant, think sensibly about what I wanted from the relationship and end it when there were red flags.

All in all, Sertraline gave me A LOT. It gave me better mood stability and the ability to get up and go most mornings. Coupled with therapy it allowed me to do the most imporant thing - forgive myself for feeling so hopeless. The part of me that felt extreme guilt, that I was a burden and that no matter what I was just not good enough quietened down and allowed me to live my life.

It’s still strange to me that depression is considered only a mental health problem when the symptoms are often so physical - not sleeping, not eating right, no energy, no ability to socialise or connect with others. The body and mind are intrinsically connected and that's something we can't forget when discussing mental health. SSRI’s can really help with the physical effects and in turn the mental ones, but it’s important to check in with yourself and establish the pro’s and the con’s on a regular basis. It’s also important that you don’t believe the hype around them (the media love to trash them, doctors love to think they fix it all) - and make a choice based on you as an individual.

The feelings that come with depression - hopelessness, low self-esteem, an urge to harm ourselves - can directly leak into the formation of relationships and the day to day of our lives and it’s important to keep a check on that and be able to speak openly how you’re feeling openly. It is difficult but imperative to your happiness. If you don't vent the bad it can be impossible to appreciate the good.

I realise none of this has been very profound but I simply wanted it to be a non-intimidating piece on anti-depressants. I went to a mental health awareness course last week where we endlessly discussed medication, psychiatry, counselling and everything in between. After a lot of talk on pills, therapy, etc, the resounding opinion was that honesty and empathy with yourself and others is a very important part of the healing proccess. Sometimes it's not the medical professional, or a pill or a therapist that makes the difference. Sometimes it's just the person who says I believe you and I'm here. And we can all be that person.

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seekerandthewizard88-blog · 7 years

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Finding Yourself in Destinations Unknown

By Ash

I want part of this blog to be about experience and how it has changed me and helped me find my awareness and through that, my choice in all things.

A huge passion for me is travel, it’s in my top three favorite things in life and it’s something I didn’t know would change me in the way it did until about three years ago. I grew up going on vacation with my family. We always camped when I was little, every summer for two weeks, we would pack up and go camping during my dad’s vacation time from work. Looking back as an adult, I have some of the most magical memories of those times in my life. I remember always listening to music from the 60’s and dancing around with my dad. I ran around on the beach and made up stories, had adventures. I learned to find so much joy alone as a child in these two weeks every summer. If I were to interpret these memories now, I could safely say that I am certain some of them helped shape me into the adult I am currently. When I got into my teens, we started vacationing to different places. My parents took me to Mexico on several occasions and I think this is where the travel bug bit me. I remember the first time we went, I was 14. I had never been outside of the country before with the exception of some camping in Canada when I was pretty small. I was unsure what to expect, as a kid who grew up before and in the infancy of the internet, I didn’t have the luxury we have now of googling my soon to be experience so I could know what to expect. I know that at 14, the most important thing to me was my friends and I really didn’t want to go on vacation with my parents for three weeks and leave them behind. I fought tooth and nail not go on that trip. In the end, I went and by the time the three weeks had passed, I didn’t want to leave. I think I cried when we had to go.

This was my first time visiting somewhere tropical. Growing up in Oregon provides endless outdoor opportunities but warm, tropical weather, isn’t one of them. I will never forget stepping off of that plane and feeling the humidity hit my skin for the first time. I was in love. I could feel the water stick to the tiny hairs on my arms, and the thickness of moving through the air felt like swimming without water, it was incredible. The first night we were there after the sun went down, I walked out onto the balcony of our room still in a bathing suit and I was just amazed and so happy at how it still felt almost as warm as it did during the day, it was warm 24 hours a day. This is currently the memory I feel so deeply every time it’s humid outside and it fills me with so much joy. I also remember the culture. We spent time in Puerto Vallarta every time we went to Mexico and at the time, it was still very much in its authentic state. The streets were still cobblestone, and they had not done any sort of updating of the city at all. You could walk down a back alley or side street and see droves of hanging power cables attached to houses with pieces of wood or other, less than “safe” methods. People were walking donkeys along the streets with baskets on their backs and I was transfixed. I had grown up in white, middle-class America and never been privy to any sort of different way of life. I found myself talking to the locals and wanting to take my shoes off and play soccer in the streets with the other children. I wanted the clothes that they had and to know what it felt like to be them living in this magical place. The food was amazing and better than any food we had in the states. I found tequila and dancing, jelly fish that glowed the brightest blue when the night fell and the moon shone over the ocean, and water so warm you could never leave. I ran through the jungle and dove into a hidden swimming hole in the side of a mountain, it was paradise. We went back when I was 16 and I had roughly the same experience with an additional understanding of the culture, and also a lot more booze.

My 20’s flew by and were filled with self-importance and zero desire to do anything worthwhile outside of consuming alcohol and drowning in self-deprecation and cyclic patterns. I always knew I was missing out on so many things in life, I could feel the empty places inside of me but at the time, was unable to look at what those were and suffered the inability to acquire the tools needed to make changes.

Fast forward to three years ago when I decided it was time, after a lot of self-work, to do something different. I had the opportunity presented to me to spend 6 weeks in SE Asia and I was in a place financially to do so, so I took it. This was the beginning of a trip that would change my life in so many profound ways, the largest of them being the love I had for myself.

My trip did not start off as a solo one nor did I intend it to be but that is how it ended up and I could not be more grateful for that. Let me paint you a picture of how this went down. I was traveling with a “friend” of mine who decided very shortly in that we would part ways and they would take all of our hotel reservations and money we had put into the trip, and just go. I was left stranded in Bangkok with nowhere to stay and much less cash than planned. My feeling was immediately terror. I had never before been this far from home, in a country I didn’t know with a language I did not speak. I, up to this point anyway, was an intense planner when it came to anything I did outside of my comfort zone, it was my way of keeping myself “safe”. As humans, we create narratives in our heads and then plan for any unforeseen outcome of said narrative under the guise of keeping ourselves “safe”. The thing we don’t know about this is that it causes us so much unneeded anxiety, robs us of our joy, and doesn’t allow us to learn how to live in groundlessness. Like most people, this was the way I was used to operating so you can imagine my anxiety and fear level upon being forced into a space that was way beyond my comfort zone. My only option was to figure it out at that point, so I did. I took one step at a time. I found a place to stay for the following night when I got to Bali and figured I would go from there, and boy did I. I found wings in this space beyond my comfort zone. I met people from all over the world and connected with them. I heard countless stories of travels and lives completely unlike my own. I spent time in a tiny village orphanage and played with the children and heard their stories. I got into the local culture and away from my own. I stayed in places with no running water and found the most beautiful surf beaches. I broke my toe and didn’t see a doctor. Most importantly, I fell in love with myself. I was sitting on a beach at sunset one evening and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. It suddenly occurred to me that my capability was far beyond what I had known and given myself credit for. I realized in that moment that I loved who I had become in the previous years of self-work and that I would continue to push myself as hard as I could to evolve outside of my comfort zone. I promised myself that I would not shy away from things ever again because of fear. It no longer mattered to me what anyone thought of me or of my life, all that mattered was the love I had found for myself and I have never looked back.

Traveling outside of the country gives me the ability to connect with people and spaces so unlike my own and always offers me a new and different perspective. It also forces me into a space of mild discomfort (although less so these days). I am in a place that is foreign to me, from the food, to the language, to the bathrooms, the clothing, and the customs. I get the opportunity to shed any sense of knowing and just quietly observe and learn. I think that every single human should travel overseas, alone, without a plan at some point in their lives. I promise that you will not return the same.

Take chances with your life, learn to leave the narrative behind and live in the groundlessness. Embrace the unknown with open arms and lean into your fear. Find gratitude in that fear and reframe it into joy. This will be one of the best gifts you ever give to yourself.

I’ll be surfing and visiting my parents in Costa Rica for a week in September and I can’t wait both to go and also to share the experience with you guys!

Light and Love,

Ash

#Self help #self awareness #Travel #Mindful #Mindfulness #Healthful living #Self love

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themomsandthecity · 7 years

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Dad of Terminal Baby Carried to Donate Organs Speaks Out About Her Death

We said hello and goodbye to our sweet Eva Grace yesterday. Eva Grace Young -- 4-17-17 Posted by Royce Young on Tuesday, April 18, 2017 Royce and Keri Young knew that their baby girl Eva was going to die when Keri was just 19 weeks pregnant, as Eva was diagnosed with a rare birth defect called anencephaly. The diagnosis was fatal, but the couple made a decision to carry Eva to term in order to donate her organs, a decision that made the family go viral. Now, weeks after saying hello and goodbye to Eva, Royce is candidly speaking out about his daughter's death, because even though he knew it was coming, nothing went as expected. In an essay posted to Medium titled, "We spent months bracing and preparing for the death of our daughter. But guess what? We weren't ready," Royce delves into the unexpected joy he and Keri found in the pregnancy. We happily talked about our sweet Eva, and day by day our love for her grew. We got excited to be her parents. I think a big part of that was connected to the decision we made to continue on, which was empowering. She had a name, an identity, and a purpose. The idea of choice in pregnancy is a complicated one, and one I kind of want to avoid here, but our own personal convictions were pushed to the limits. Keri likes to say, "You think you know, but you have no idea." Until you put the shoes on and start walking the road, you don't have any clue. But wherever you fall, we just know that we were empowered by our decision, our responsibility, to be Eva's mom and dad for as long as we could. We are thankful to have had made the decision on our own terms, rather than a rule book telling us we had to. We went from seeing the pregnancy as a vehicle to only help others, to looking forward to holding her, and kissing her, and telling her about her brother, and being her parents. The time we'd have was completely unknown, with it ranging anywhere from five seconds to five minutes to five hours, to in some more optimistic estimates, five days. Leading up to Keri's May 2 C-section date, the Youngs had meeting after meeting with doctors, the people from the organ procurement organization, LifeShare, NICU nurses, and other hospital personnel. They made plans of action for every possible outcome, still facing the crushing fact that their girl was going to die. "We had to make concessions with the transplant doctor, things like agreeing to intubate Eva shortly after delivery," he wrote. "But we were willing, because regardless of our parental instincts to want to love and hold her for as long as we could, we also very clearly understood the inevitable. There was no changing the fact she would die." Despite all of their planning for the best possible outcome, on April 16 and at 37 weeks, Keri knew something was wrong with Eva when she wasn't moving around as usual. "We started to worry. Keri got up, walked around, drank cold water, ate some sugary stuff. She sat back down and waited. Maybe that was something? We decided to go to the hospital," Royce wrote. "'This is going to be bad, isn't it?' I said. Keri erupted into tears and her body shook. I had my answer." Feeling completely unprepared, the couple went to the hospital only to confirm their biggest fear via ultrasound: Eva was gone. Keri rolled onto her side and put both hands over her face and let out one of those raw, visceral sobbing bursts. I stood silently shaking my head. We had tried to do everything right, tried to think of others, tried to take every possible step to make this work, and it didn't. No organ donation. Not even for the failsafe, research. We felt cheated. What a total rip-off. The word I still have circling in my head is disappointment. That doesn't really do it justice, because it's profound disappointment. Like the kind that's going to haunt me forever. . . . Not that grief needs to be ranked, but compared to even when we found out Eva's diagnosis, this was so much worse. We had come to terms with the outcome, and had almost found a joy in the purpose of our daughter's life. We looked forward to meeting her and loving her. She was making an impact already, and people from around the world were celebrating her. We knew we'd hurt from her loss, but there was a hope in the difference she was making. We heard from recipients of organ donation that were so encouraging and uplifting. But the deal got altered. The rug was pulled out from underneath us. This was a curveball we couldn't accept. It felt like we were letting everyone down (I know how ridiculous that sounds). I felt embarrassed because all that positivity about saving lives wasn't happening now (I know how ridiculous that sounds). All the meticulous planning and procedures, all out the window. I'm telling you, just . . . disappointment. And on top of it all, the ultimate kick in the gut: We wouldn't even see her alive. I struggled with the idea of Eva's existence and her humanity all along, whether a terminal diagnosis made her dead already. I clung to knowing her humanity would be validated to me when I saw her as a living, breathing human being. I would hold my daughter and be her daddy. I wanted to watch her die, because that would mean that I got to watch her live. Think about that one for a second. Now it was all gone. I longed for just five minutes with her, heck, five seconds with her. All of that practical stuff about organ donation was irrelevant to me now. I just wanted to hold my baby girl and see her chest move up and down. I just wanted to be her daddy, if only for a few seconds. Keri was induced and the couple somberly waited for Eva's arrival along with their birth photographer. Then Royce received a text from LifeShare with more unexpected news: they had a recipient for Eva's eyes. "It's a weird thing to say that in probably the worst experience of my life was also maybe the best moment of my life, but I think it was the best moment of my life. The timing of it all is just something I can't explain," Royce said. "It wasn't what we planned or hoped for, but it was everything we needed in that moment. I buried my head in my arms and sobbed harder than I ever have. Keri put her hands over her face and did the same. Happy tears." Royce ends his soul-crushing story with an uplifting note about his daughter's legacy, despite nothing involving her birth or death going as originally planned. We're trying to rest on knowing we did the best we could. We always said we wanted to limit our regret, and I think in 20 years or so as we reflect on this, there's not much we'd change. Because anything we would change was already outside of our control anyway. We're proud to be Eva's parents. We're thrilled with the impact she's made. People from around the world have sent us messages telling us they've signed up to be organ donors, because of Eva. She's the first ever - not baby, but person - in the state of Oklahoma to donate a whole eye, and she donated two. Because of her, LifeShare has made connections in other states to set up eye transplants for the future. They have an infant organ donation plan they now are working with that they'd shared with other organ procurement organizations in Colorado and Texas. They call it the Eva Protocol. It's laminated and everything. . . . We always knew organ transplant was only just a chance anyway, and a slim one at that. But we wanted to take it. Someone's life is worth the chance. In some ways, though, I'm more excited about her eyes being her living legacy. I keep thinking about looking into them some day, but more than anything, about her eyes seeing her mom, dad and brother. . . . I can't ever hold my daughter again. I can't ever talk to her or hear her giggle. But I can dream about looking into her eyes for the first time one day, and finding out what color they are. http://bit.ly/2pPlyVh

#Touching Stories #Newborn #Fatherhood

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