Stories of Lost Children
My Precious Munchy Face (DAVID THOMAS)
by J., Lindenhurst, New York, U.S.A.
This isn't very easy for me to speak about; but this story is about the most precious gift that was torn away from me at the age of 20. I am now 30. It all started in the yrs 1989 & 1990, while still in High School, I found out I was pregnant. I was only 18 years old, going on 90, toward the end of my senior year. I was so scared at first but as time went on and I graduated in June 1990, my life seemed to be coming along fine considering my being pregnant at that age. Anyways, in October 1990 my little boy DAVID THOMAS was born. He was absolutely perfect in every way. At his 6 week check up , his doctor, who was mine since I was nine, became very worried about my David. Before he even entered the room you could see it written on his face. My David was diagnosed with a rare (at least that what I was told), head problem called "Cranialsintosis". Not sure of spelling so please excuse the spelling. Anyway its where the soft spot closes prematurely to the point where the brain has very little room for proper growth. That was November 1990. By March or April of 1991 my son was scheduled for surgery to correct this. The surgery was scheduled in May 1991, the day before my 20th birthday. It was so difficult for me to decide whether or not I should allow the surgery to happen because he only had a 50/50 chance. That was hard for me to think about, being that I was a single parent and no one else was able to decide. But I did choose for the surgery, because my DAVID needed it done. So on May 16th 1991 the operation was done. It took six hours or so. When I was finally able to see him, he muttered little sounds as soon as I touched his hands. My heart was breaking because he wasn't able to see me due to the swelling from the surgery. But my boy was going to be fine. He was able to come home a week later. I was thrilled but scared at the same time.
David had to be watched carefully over the next few weeks when it came to his crawling and climbing up and things of that nature. From the end of May through that 1991 summer, everything was great for us. It was he and I against the world. On August 27th or so, I had taken my son for a check up with his plastic surgeon. Everything looked great he said after taking just one look at my baby boy. It was that week my David had called me momma the first time. But of course he really didn't say it much unless you consider mumum to be momma as I did. LOL.
September 7th 1991 I had pictures taken of him and his gorgeous smile at Sears. He was so happy and so was I. He was a momma's boy; that for sure. But that all changed the very next evening. September 8th 1991, while I was with my foster sisters who I had grown up with, along with my foster brother at a show, my world came to a crashing halt. Hearing my name on the loud speaker at the theatre; the Westbury Music Fair in Westbury LI where Marky Marc and C.C Music Factory were performing. My heart began to sink, especially when my brother came for me after he heard it in the lobby during intermission. All i can tell you is things were totally going wrong from that point. My son had been with my boyfriend at home and he went to reach for something and just fell to his butt. But then he fell back and hit his head hard on the floor. My boyfriend rushed my son straight downstairs to our neighbor who was a policemen and voluteer fireman. His girlfriend was a nurse and happened to be there to help. My son was then rushed to the hospital nearby and then after xrays and cat scans, he was flown to another hospital on the north shore. All I knew was I had to be with him every second. I had no clue as to exactly was happening except my Precious Boy was in danger of loosing his life. He had sustained a massive haemorrage in which the doctors immediately began surgery to stop it. They weren't very hopeful. They came to me about 4 hours after surgery had started. I was basically informed that things didn't look good for him and that I had to decide on my David's life.
He was hooked up to so many machine's including Life Support. The doctors had suggested to me to sign, basically say for him, not to live on life support. This was late Sunday night, Monday morning. After the other battery of tests were done that Monday morning of September 9th and by the afternoon early evening, I signed those forms because I was told there wasn't hope. Trust me, it wasn't an easy decision for me. Especially when He was MY BOY and I was all he had. But he had been through such an ordeal from the time he was born and as I watched him just laying there helpless, not making any sounds, and just total emptiness in his eyes. MY HEART fell apart. TO me and to those around us he was suffering. The decision to have them take him off life support was agony for me. I mean I was 18 when I got pregnant, had David when I was 19, and he had surgery the day before my 20th Birthday. Now this, 4 months after his surgery. All I thought about was what did I do to deserve loosing my BOY. Growing up in foster care wasn't enough pain for me to endure, or my mom giving up her rights to my brothers and me, my dad being an abusive alcholic. No God had to tear at me for my BOY. MY MUNCHY FACE. So on September 10th 1991, friends and family gathered around in my son's hospital room to say goodbye to My Baby.
David was a little more then 10 1/2 months old. On this day his room was packed wall to wall. And there was still no movement of my boy telling me he was still here. I prayed like crazzzzzy for him to come back to me, but no luck. As of Wednesday September 11th 1991 at 9:00 a.m., my David Thomas was taken off the life support and gone from me forever.
I felt so lost especially knowing that we were never going to celebrate his 1st birthday that following October 16th. My life had changed forever. Til this day my son lives in my HEART and MY SOUL. And I still ask that same question as I have many time's before asked; WHY?? WHY?? WHY?? Still no answer. I may only be 30 years old but one thing I know for sure is NO Mother or Father should ever have to go through losing a child. To me, parents are meant to go first and not their children. Since this past September 11th, which was
MY DAVID's 10th anniversary in heaven, I realized that he was taken from me to be my Guardian Angel. Not that I'll ever really come to grips with my loss. But just knowing He's there watching over me, my husband and his sisters (although he and they never got the chance to see or be with each other). My husband, who was my boyfriend from back when I was going through everything with David could have been one of the lost in the tower attacks. But my breaks went so he never made it there to be on the 96th floor. For this is why I TOTALLY believe IN GUARDIAN ANGELS.
My Munchy Face, My David Thomas will Always be Alive in My HEART. Believing that he's always here surrounding me, I don't feel as lost as I use to. He is guiding me in some way to live a happy life even though I know I can never truly have him in my arms again.
MOMMY ALWAYS LOVE'S YOU DAVID THOMAS!!
You'll Always Be My MunchFace.
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