This Healing Path

This Healing Path

2003~my father turned 73 that year. His congestive heart failure coupled by syrosis of the liver and diabetes caused him to only have a very short time to live. The man you see as your protector, the one who is always there to support you through life is now supposed to die. I was in serious denial. Meanwhile as the year progressed I met my soul mate. He proposed, we were getting married in December, and very much in love. Much to our surprise we found that we were expecting our son. We didn’t believe we could get pregnant and so we were so amazed. Our wedding was scheduled for December 13, 2003. It was an amazing experience although it took on a saddened feeling for me since my father wasn’t there to walk me down the aisle. But the ceremony was beautiful, in a castle with just about 15 close friends. We embraced the magic of the day. Later we found that my father’s condition was worse.

On January 25, 2004 after having hospice at the house for several weeks and having several rebounds my father passed away. The toll that his death and subsequent other issues that all collided together was an incredible stress upon me and my baby. Flash back to my fathers sobbing grief when he lost his mother and life had come full circle for me. I remember sobbing so hard that I couldn’t eat, had a hard time breathing, and just holding onto my husband for his steadfast support. Back then I didn’t understand the impact that major stress can have upon a pregnancy.

From March of Dimes website:
“Very high levels of stress may contribute to preterm birth or low birth weight in full-term babies. Examples of events that may be highly stressful include loss of a job, divorce, or death of a close family member”.

I was 24 weeks pregnant, just returned home from a very stressful experience and at my OBGYN’s office. He did a vaginal exam that day to make sure all was ok because I was having some discharge. All looked fine and secure. I went home that night and cuddled up in my husbands arms. He comforted me, held me, and loved me. That night I had horrible cramps. Something wasn’t right. When I got up in the morning after he left for work, I found I was spotting.

A phone call to the OBGYN, another call to a close friend to take me the hospital and then a 45 minute trip to the hospital ensued. We found out after much time spent terrified in a small diagnostic room that I was 4 centimeters dilated at 24 weeks and a couple days pregnant. I was put on hospital bed rest. I could not have the cerclage because the bag of waters was bulging. All that could be done was drugs to stop the contractions (which I wasn’t really feeling at that point) and being put inverted in the bed. I spent most of two weeks with a catheter in and lying in that bed stressed, crying, and terrified I was going to loose my son.

My water broke after being in the hospital for @10 days. I sat with it broke for almost 4 days. I had antibiotics and steroids to help mature my son’s lungs. The NICU staff and doctors came in and said that at 26 weeks there was little hope that our son would survive. One of the doctors in my OB’s practice told me I had no choice but to have a C-section. I refused.

We did everything we could during those 4 days to keep my labor from progressing. Finally at exactly 26 weeks I spent the entire day unaware that I was in labor. I kept having a crampy feeling like menstrual cramps. It wasn’t until my husband showed up that night after work that we figured I was in labor. The doctor was called. They found my sons arm hanging out of the birth channel when doing a vaginal exam. An emergency C-section was necessary.

This is what I remember from that point forward……….being terrified, seeing the whirl of lights all around me while someone undressed me, put a cap on me, a team of people around my bed, rushing me down a hall, and the tears running down my face. My son was going to die. I just knew it. I was afraid. I just lost my father. My Mama was 250 miles away. And my husband was being prepped to be in the surgery with me. It took them three tries to get the epidural/spinal in. At one point I was screaming because it hurt so horribly. Rushing a needle into someone’s back is never, ever a good thing. My hands were tied down. I never expected that. The anesthesiologist was kind and tried to wipe the tears from my face. My husband tried to be strong but I could see the tears in his eyes too. There was a room full of people who all felt out terror, sadness, and worry. The NICU staff waited in the wings.

And then my son……my dear son Niko was born that day. February 11, 2004. It would have been my parents wedding anniversary. He weighed just a little more than 1 pound. He fit in my husband hand. The NICU staff took him and rushed him away to work on him. Meanwhile I didn’t even get to see him. I was in shock. They finished closing me up and sent me to recovery. I had no idea what was happening. I anxiously waited, crying alone (I sent my husband to the NICU with our son). I felt so utterly alone. And then I was taken to a room on the maternity floor. I could hear other families with their babies and I longed for my own. Finally, I got word that my son was on a ventilator but still breathing. They gave me meds at that point and knocked me out. My husband exhausted went home for the night. After 13 hours after surgery I finally got up out of bed. I will never forget that horrible feeling of the staples and trying to get up again and walk simply to the bathroom. I needed to get to the NICU and see my son. But there was no one to take me. Finally a nurse offered to take me to the NICU.

I walked to the wheel chair and they took me to see my tiny little baby boy. He was in a separate room in the NICU for high risk babies. He was all alone except for the care of a nurse. I looked down into that isolette for the first time and was overwhelmed.

He was so small.

He was so incredibly fragile.

And he was my son.

The nurse looked at me and could tell I was afraid to touch him. I was crying. She took my son out of the isolette, wires attached, and gave him to me to hold. I sat in a chair and looked at his tiny feet and hands in wonder. And I was overwhelmed again with raw emotion.
Emotions that included anger because this should have never happened, sadness because he was so fragile, happiness because here was the son I thought I would never have, and a very tiny spark of hope…….because he had made it this far.

And for almost two weeks I was on a roller coaster ride of hope and despair. The feelings of seeing my son’s health improve and then decelerate was horrible. The NICU nurses were so good to our family and to my dear little son. They made cards of his footprints. There were messages to us on the isolette each day from our son. They became precious to us. We were taught to change his diaper and most importantly how to bond with him. We did kangaroo care. At one point I held my tiny son next to my skin and rocked him for over 4 hours. It was the best his vitals had ever been. Then it all changed over night.

They couldn’t get lines into our sons veins. We hurried and drove to get to the hospital. When we arrived the gravity of the situation hit us. That flicker of hope that we had was quickly diminishing as the morning progressed. Several nurses and doctors tried to run lines into his head because all of the other veins were collapsing. The decision was made that our child be transported from the level 3 NICU he was in to Columbus Children's Hospital (Now Nationwide Children's Hospital). We followed the ambulance. I was terrified and scared. Why this now?
We waited in the waiting room for hours and finally we were allowed to see our son. To see a line going into the head of your son is pretty shocking. He looked so tiny in the isolette. He had many ups and downs during his little two week life span.

On the night of February 24, 2004 we went home for the first time in days to spend the night (45 minutes away one way). I had serious reservations about spending the night away but the nurses encouraged me that I needed some rest. That night at 3am we got a phone call from the NICU staff that we were needed immediately. By the time we got up to the hospital our son was having seizures every so often. Looking into his eyes….he longed for an end to this torture. And so we waited for our NICU doctor to get to the hospital. Then we made the decision no parent should ever have to make ~ we agreed that our dear little baby boy needed to be taken off of life support. It was decided to give him morphine so he wouldn’t be in any pain. Meanwhile the nurses brought us a blue crocheted outfit and blanket for us to dress our son in. Our priest was called to deliver last rights (Niko was baptized when I was in recovery from the C-section by our priest).

They removed Niko from the machines and handed him to my husband who cradled our son in his loving arms as we moved to a family support room. Our son drew his last breath and then I held on to him, nestled against my bosom for quite some time. I never wanted to let go of him. I was in utter shock. I couldn’t function. Tears were my constant companion that day but not the soul wrenching sobs that you often see portrayed on television when parents loose a child. Instead I felt like I was Alice in Wonderland falling into the rabbit hold. Further and further I tumbled deep inside of myself. My best friend was there and she supported me as best as she could. The priest said nothing. What could he say to us? Our child just died and this was not supposed to happen. Finally the doctors came in and said they should take Niko now. I didn’t want to let him go still. I fought the urge to run out of the hospital carrying him with me. Jeff made me see sense. And somehow I allowed my little son to be taken away. I never saw his body again. It was suggested that I be taken home and that he wrap up stuff at the hospital. So my best friend held my hand, watched me sob as she drove me home, and then she sat with me while I made the calls that no parents should ever have to make. I called my family. I called funeral homes and cemeteries. I made appointments and arrangements for my son to be picked up at the hospital.

We were lucky enough to find that in our community there was a kindness of strangers. A local funeral home allowed us to have a service and helped us bury our son with the dignity that each human being should be afforded. We went to the cemetery to pick out his grave in the children's section. And then were shocked at all of the children in our local cemetery who died way too soon in life. Many didn’t even have head stones. It was so sad.

The day my son died and the day we buried him were in fact the worst days of my life. Seeing that tiny coffin was so hard. Watching it be lowered into the ground even harder.
For me I finally saw a pattern in this past few months. This pattern I point out because I believe everything happens for a reason. My father died on January 25, 2004. My son was born on February 11, 2004 (my parents wedding anniversary). And my son died on February 25, 2004, one month exactly to the date my father died. The dates and pattern have meaning in my life. It helps me to recognize that my father and son are not alone in heaven but clearly are together.

Fast Forward to today. I decided that everything happens for a reason. And so to give my sons small life meaning, I have dedicated a new path with clear vision. I teach parents and women childbirth education classes, infant massage classes, am a hypnotherapist, and Reiki master. Often I work with mothers whom have lost a child due to a miscarriage, stillbirth, or neonatal loss. It is my hope that my story helps those parents see that their children were an important part of their lives and that grief eventually gets to be less of an intense emotion. We are able to endure and honor the legacy of our children. Hopefully, we are able to grieve the loss of our child, the loss of our family, and the loss of our birthing dream in a healing way. Through this loss we begin our own "Healing Path" .