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The Death of a Child
I can close my eyes and still hear the breathing machines, my mind pans to the heart monitor and all the tubes coming out of my son. His little body laying in a little bed, eyes closed. I stop myself from remembering anymore. I can only go back to that time for short bursts before my mind shuts down and my body begins to take over as grief washes over me. Time is suspended whenever I close my eyes to think of him.
I can feel the numbness I felt at that time. I was in complete denial.
No one let the words fall from their lips, “Your son will die” or “He is dying.” Maybe I needed to hear it or maybe I was searching for someone to say something to soften the blow. The social workers came to my room often. They spoke to me alone and with my partner. I spoke with doctors, nurses, techs and each one I searched their faces to tell me what to do. I felt like a fraud. I had no idea how to deal with this. My son was sick, riddled with health issues that the ultrasound did not catch. The plan to move him to one of the top hospitals in the state was squashed replaced with discussions of hospice care.
He was dying and I could not accept it.
We all know death is final but you do not expect it in baby, an infant. They are just starting out in…
