Then they had to take him away. I was still so groggy, I just went back to sleep.
June 14, 1998:
The next day, I still could not comprehend the seriousness of the situation. All I knew was that I was at one hospital and my baby was at another hospital. All I wanted was to see my baby. A friend of mine called me at the hospital and in the course of us talking, she told me that I could request a transfer. Apparently, the hospital where Eli was at, was connected by tunnel to another hospital where I could be transferred. I requested this and after some time, it was ordered. I refused all pain medication that day. I wanted to be fully alert when I saw my baby. The ambulance ride was hell. No pain meds, recovering from full labor and major surgery, and not knowing what to think about my baby. The ambulance crew asked me repeatedly to take some pain med's, but I refused. They said, "You must have a really high pain tolerance." I said, "No, I just want to be able to see my baby with my mind clear. Please, just get me to him." We finally arrived at the hospital. I was checked in and placed on the labor and delivery floor. When my husband discovered this, he called the hospital and made a big stink, so they quickly moved me to the "high-risk" labor floor. As soon as I was checked in and the perinatologist had seen me, I was able to get my SIL to walk with me to see my baby. I had been told that it was a good thing to get up and walk around, so that's what I tried to do. Children's hospital was connected to my hospital by underground tunnel. My SIL grabbed a wheelchair and I walked behind it to Children's. That was a huge mistake. When we got to Children's and I washed up and got into the NICU to see my son, I was in so much pain. I still had not taken any pain meds since the day before and I was feeling it. I looked at my son.........hooked up to all those machines, wires everywhere, a ventilator taped into his mouth. Suddenly, I understood. My son could die. I couldn't take it. I just started bawling.......apologized to my SIL.....and said, "I know we just got here, but I need you to take me back to my room." I spent that afternoon crying in my room, both from the pain and the thought of my son dying. My peri sent me to get an x-ray of my back to make sure that I didn't have any blood pooling in my back, because of my extreme pain, but it must have just been the combination of the walking so far and not taking my pain meds. I accepted pain medication. Later that day, my DH came to the hospital and took me back to the NICU. I was able to hold my son for the first time. It was both scary and a blessing
June 15-22, 1998:
For nine days, I stayed at the hospital, spending the majority of my time in the NICU. My son was not alone for a second. There was always a family member with him. Danielle would sit and hold him and sing her version of Que Sera to him. "Que Eli, Eli. Whatever will be will be. The future's not our's to see. Que Eli, Eli." We never knew that when she sang that to my tummy, it would be so appropriate. And, so heartwrenching to listen to after Eli was born and placed on life support. So true to our situation. At first my son's doctors gave us hope. They said he had some reactive eye movement and was trying to gasp when the vent was termporarily removed. At this point, they told us if we wanted to remove life support, it would have to be ok'd by a panel of doctors. But by day 5 of my son's life, they told us that he was worsening. He no longer had any reactive eye movement and he was no longer gasping as much when the vent was removed. They told us that they would continue life support, if we wished. But if we wished to remove it, there no longer needed to be an ok by anyone. I could see that he was deteriorating. He looked so sick. It was hard to watch him getting worse and worse each day. My family gathered and we talked about what to do. We decided we did not want him to suffer anymore. On the 9th day of my son's life, we removed life support. I held my precious son in my arms as the artifically maintained life drained fom his body. It was the worst and best times of my life. It felt so good to feel his skin against my skin as I rocked and sang to him. But it was so hard to listen to him gasp and gasp. Finally, the nurse came in and listened to his heart and declared him dead. We buried our son two days later. I still miss him so much every day. |
