Devastating Outcomes

Today, I am writing about a topic some people are currently going through, a topic others have already gone through, and a topic some of you may go through in the future.

And it is personal to me, something I am currently going through, so this is part one of two.

No one wishes this pain upon anyone.

On October 7th my child was taken to hospital via ambulance. In this frame of just a short ride from my home to the hospital my beloved child stopped breathing. My loving, caring, happy child had his heart stop. He was revived en route to the hospital and placed into a medically-induced coma, and put onto life support. His little lungs just stopped working.

We were transferred to another hospital and he was put into the PICU ward (child intensive care unit), where he remained in a coma and on life support.

I had broke. My life had just gotten torn apart. My loving baby boy was laying in front of me, unable to move or breathe on his own. My heart sunk; it felt as if I had no emotions whatsoever. In the state I was in I had no idea what to do, or how to feel. All I knew was that I needed to remain strong for my child no matter how heartbroken I was.

The next day, nothing got better. He went for tests to see what was causing this...they called it “Failure To Thrive” and that he didn’t have the thrive to breathe any longer and he just wasn’t strong enough. Later that day, he had a seizure. All I could think was, “What’s going on? This is new! Why is this happening?”

I had so many questions, like why? Questions that I new couldn’t be answered right away.

I thought to myself, “how on earth am I going to cope?” I sat with my child all night. I wouldn’t leave his side.

I prayed for the first time in years, hoping this would put some sort of relief by my side, hoped that it would take some of the pain away. I was wrong; I felt no better then I had when this all started.

I kept my son's sookie in my pocket. I took it out as I gripped it in my hand holding onto it for dear life. It's then when I felt a bit of relief, knowing that it’s by my side and a part of my son's everyday life. Knowing I had it, I kissed it everyday and, by God, did it ever make me feel better; better yet, it gave me hope.

The next day my son started breathing on his own. He woke up! I cried happy tears—just absolutely cried my eyes out. I couldn’t believe my child woke up, he opened his precious little eyes and looked right at me. I gripped his sookie in one hand, leaned over and gently kissed his forehead, letting him know I’m here.

Over the course of another day he had gotten far better, wiggling around but still seizing...I then got news that made my entire body shake: my son has an abnormality with his brain.

The doctors weren’t sure what was going on and sent him for more testing.

My little world, my everything, has to endure even more pain. I then thought, "he goes through far more pain fighting this, being poked everyday and going through a severe amount of testing a day just to keep fighting to be alive."

My pain is nothing to how my precious boy is feeling.

Coping happens with many, many different people, in many different ways. No one expects to ever have this happen to their child. No mother or father should ever have to go through it.