Grief

The summer of 1995 I was excited and scared all at the same time. I was just 21 and about to become a mother. Not knowing what to expect or what kind of mother I was going to be I was scared. October 5th 1995 it was storming I had been up most the night hurting in my lower back about 5:30 that afternoon I went to the hospital I was due three days prior. I told them I wasn’t sure if I was in labor or not because I wasn’t having contractions but I hurt real bad in my lower back. They took me to Labor and delivery and sure enough I was in labor the nurse checked me and I was completely dilated. So the nurse delivered my son eight minutes after I arrived at the hospital. For the next 8 weeks I was happy and in love. Then the worst happened. My mom had my son while I was at work, and a lady from the hospital came and got me from work and took me to the hospital. This lady would not tell me nothing. When I walked in and seen my mom I knew something bad was wrong. For two hours I couldn’t see my son all I was told was they was going to air lift him to another hospital that could help him better. My mom told me he had stopped breathing. As they was getting him ready to walk out the hospital they let me see him. The hardest thing for a mother seeing her child hurt and can’t help or hold or touch. I watched as the helicopter flew out of sight heading to another hospital a two hour drive for us. Feeling hopeless and scared to death of what was going on and what could happen. When we got to the hospital they told me my child was going to NICU and I could be with him and the doctors would come in and talk to me. At 21 I had to make decisions I wouldn’t want anyone to have to make. My son was brain dead. He has SIDS. The week before my 22nd birthday I had to say goodbye to my first born child. I had to tell doctors whether or not to keep machines on or cut them off. They gave me and hour to make the decision. I wouldn’t want to be living like that so I chose to turn the machines off because if he was going to be here God would pull him through it without machines. My son has been gone for 26 years this year and they say time heals all wounds, but time never heals a broken heart. The pain has gotten easier to deal with but I still deal with it everyday. When I see kids his age I wonder what he would look like where he would be in life what he would be doing. Would he be married and have kids what kind of job would he have.

When the day he passed falls on Thanksgiving I really shut down and don’t even celebrate that day. My birthday has never been the same in 26 years. My son was born on my moms birthday and I can’t even celebrate that with her because it hurts so much still to this day. My sweet baby boy is now my guardian angel, one day I will see him again.