The entire day was probably one of the longest days of my life. We got a phone call at 9 am saying they needed permission to give him antibiotics...the Doctor called, not the nurse, she sounded concerned. We rushed right in. From there it's a blur.
He was all distended, not moving, glazed eyes. It was horrible. Nurses and respiratory people, Doctors all around him. They called for a surgical consult to relieve the pressure building in his belly. They put him back on the osculating respirator--one he had come off of twice, one that people barely every come off.
They cleared out the NICU, we sat in there watching the surgery to put the drain in our little 4lb baby boy. They said it would help, it did I guess, but next thing we know they called in CHOPs to helavac him out. Hoping they could save him and get him the heart surgery he needed.
He was flown out. Our mothers came in to stay with our little princess.
We drove out to Philly. We couldn't see him for an hour after we got there. We were afraid he was already gone. The Doctor came in to talk to us before we were allowed finally in, she said he was septic, it wasn't good. They were trying to do what they could, and that there would come a point where they wouldn't be able to do any more. But they would keep him out of pain.
We slowly walked into the tiny room. Packed with people running in new blood, monitoring his o2 levels, figuring out tiny doses of meds for his little body. And there he lay. Tinted a blue color no baby should be, almost the same as he was when he was born too soon. Air still being forced into his tiny body, every possible point stuck with needles and covered in gauze.
The night went on....I don't even remember how may hours we were there. I never heard one firework go off even though we were in the middle of a huge city.
He drifted off...they revived him with a shot of epi. More time passed. More pin pricks and tests and people we didnt know poking and prodding at our little boy. And there we nothing we could do, except stop it.
His heart rate started to drop again, his o2 levels we no longer coming up. The dr ordered more epi...we stopped her. I couldn't let them. I just needed to hold him and let him go. They disconnected his leads, pulled out the vent, wrapped him in a blanket, his swollen, purple 4lb body, and handed him to me to hold-for the first time.
He took his only breath on his own in my arms, his last.
Though I can not look at them, we took a picture of me holding him. Then hubby took him and rocked for a bit.
The dr came in and called his time of death. 11:50pm, July 4th, 2004.
They took his foot imprint and gave it to us, along with his hat and blanket.
Till this day it is the hardest day ever. I know that he lived so my princess could live too. Once she was in the clear, he knew it was time to go. I understand it, but I still feel so much pain from it.
I love you my little angel. I miss you so.
-mommy
