rockbottomm

First off I'm going to start with the story of my sons death since I know that's what some people are going to ask. Rather then re-write it I made a post on what would have been his first birthday so if you don't mind I'm going to copy and paste it here:

EDIT: I didn't realize how long my post from that day was, I'm sorry I had to break it up I didn't know Reddit had a 10,000 character limit.

Today is Nickolas’s hypothetical 1st birthday is today and my feelings of grief overwhelm me like it was the day he passed away all over again. I cannot believe it’s already been that long since that Thursday, May 21st 4:25pm, that my water broke on my way to go pick up my mom from work. Which by the way he was so special he was even born on his due date.

I can remember that day like it was yesterday, that ecstatic feeling of knowing that after 9 long months my waiting was finally almost over and I would soon be with my precious miracle son. I called everyone I could think of and I posted it on facebook for anyone I couldn’t get a hold of. I couldn’t sleep that night knowing that he could come at any moment, the little sleep I did get was spent dreaming about what he was going to be like and everything that I was going to be able to do with him.

When I got to the hospital the next morning and they put me on the drip I got so excited to know that you would be arriving shortly. But then things went wrong, I suddenly got really intense back labour it lasted for 12 hours before I finally requested for an epidural, they tried 5 times and once the guy tapped some of my spinal fluid, it finally took a little bit and the pain went away. I then discovered that there was something much more going on inside of me, the pain from the back labour was masking something much worse. I got this intense pain and pressure in my pelvic area and it was at that point that I knew something wasn’t right. I begged the nurses to get the doctor in the room because I wanted to have a c-section, they told me to settle down and do my breathing. I was crying uncontrollably from the pain and the feeling that something was wrong and I begged, pleaded, and swore for someone to do something about it. I knew it was my first child but I also knew that after having an epidural that I shouldn’t be feeling pain like this.

This went on all through the night, 11hrs went by before my midwife finally showed up to check up on me, I told her what was going on and it was only her that listened to me and she got the request for an operating room. With in 20 minutes I was in the OR awaiting my c-section. We were waiting for the surgeon to show up, when he finally arrived the OB/GYN had to take off for another woman in labour, so I was again made to wait. She finally got back but we were waiting on another anesthetist to drive from home, that took an hour. Everyone was finally in the room and things were getting underway, I had to get a spinal tap if I wanted to be awake for the procedure. The anesthetist tried 20 times to drive that 15 cm long needle into my spine but to no avail he couldn’t get the right spot. I began crying hysterically because I knew what that meant for me. I didn’t even bother counting backwards as the doctors placed the mask upon my face, I lay there warily with tears rolling down the side of my face and wept until I was plunged into eternal darkness. All I could think of while I was waiting for the inevitable sleep that would over come me is “this is not how I planned things, this is not how I imagined the end of my pregnancy would be.” What I didn’t know was that what to come when I woke up was much worse than the impending “doom” I was about to slip into.

And that's exactly what I thought at time. Especially since we were getting him cremated I didn't skip a beat thinking that he could help other children in need, because why should more than one person have to go through what I was going through.

We paced the waiting room back and forth, stood outside the hospital having a smoke, the intense tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The worried looks on our faces and the sweat dripping down our faces as we silently sat in the OR waiting room. We stared up at the digital board which showed the patients in surgery and what their status was whether it was in OR, in waiting, in holding, or recovery. Ten hours had gone by since we said our possible goodbyes and took some last-minute pictures, the neurosurgeon walked out with the most solemn look on his face, I was about to break out in tears when he opened his mouth and said “we managed to relieve the compression now all we can do is wait and see what happens,” (see I told you he could learn some things). My heart started beating again and the tears retreated back to where they came from, I could breathe once again.

The surgery was over and Nickolas was transported back to his room, he was too drugged up to be awake so we gave him a kiss and left. The weeks went by and although his breathing improved a little bit it didn’t make enough of a difference and other complications arrived, his diaphragm collapsed and his left lung was starting to give out because it had to work twice as hard to keep him breathing even with the tube in. After a meeting with the doctors, we all walked back to The Ronald McDonald House in silence knowing what needed to be done. We debated for a couple of days within ourselves what was the best thing to do.

It was time to arrange Nickolas’s death.

Please don't feel like that, I share Nick's story so that maybe other people will find comfort knowing that life can and will go on after you lose a child. I don't tell these thingy for the sympathy or pity, I tell these things to Nickolas did not die in vain so that his short life can give other people hope.

I know this may sound awful but after Nick passed away they asked me if I would like to donate his parts to science. I signed the consent form to take whatever they could take, so I'd like to think that Nick's death was a way to let other children be able to live. They even took his eyes and I got a commemoration medal in the mail a couple months later letting me know how his eyes will help further research into understand the eyes better.

About 4-5 months after that I got a letter from SickKids from the head of the bereavement program asking if they could feature Nick's abnormal condition in a medical presentation at a conference.

Yes, I had a son in February of this year. He's the joy of my life, I wouldn't want my life to turn out any different, because I don't think I could love my son and more than I do now because of what I went through. I appreciate all the small things he does, more than most parents.