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Stories of Lost Children
Baby Dave
by Crystal, Leesburg, Georgia, U.S.A. It just doesn't seem natural. And I don't think it is...that's why we have such a hard time with it, and it never goes away. My husband, Matt, and I lost our first born child on March 11, 2004. I had a pretty rough pregnancy with morning sickness, gestational diabetes, then toxemia. We went to my OB at 20 weeks to find out we were having a boy. My husband was so happy. He immediately began calling everyone he knew, right there in the doctor's office. Then not 5 minutes later we were told that the ultrasound showed an abnormality of my baby's intestine. We saw a specialist the following week, and his ultrasound showed the same thing: what appeared to be a blocked bowel. They said it could be secondary to Down's Syndrome, cystic fibrosis, or just a normal variant that would probably require surgery just after birth. We were assured that the surgery was not a complicated one, and most likely, the part of the bowel that was blocked would just have to be removed and the intestine put back together; no problem. As weeks went by we had genetic counseling, and Amniocentesis, and I was tested to see if I was a carrier for cystic fibrosis. The amnio was normal and I was not found to be a carrier for C.F. Thank you, GOD! Therefore, even though we had to have ultrasounds every week, my baby seemed healthy, and would just need a minor surgery to fix the blocked area of intestine. I had an emergency c-section on March 4, 2004 because I was becoming more toxemic. It went wonderfully. I heard David cry, and shortly thereafter saw him for just a moment before he was sent across the street to Scottish Rite for stabilization and preparation for surgery. I was kind of out of it secondary to Magnesium Sulphate for my high blood pressure, but my husband was so excited. He had his beautiful baby boy, and he looked perfect. My husband Matt went with my son David to Scottish Rite, and held him and stayed with him all thru the night. I don't think he slept. The next day David went in to surgery. I thought it was taking too long and I began to pray, and worry a little. Something was not right. Meanwhile, my mom was sick and in the hotel room.
So she was not there for quite a while after I found out the news....My son would not live. My husband came in my room about 4 or so hours after the surgery was to begin. He looked scared, with wide eyes. He looked sick, actually. I got a numb cold feeling. He said, "I'm sorry, Baby, he's not going to make it." And then he just cried. I sat up in the bed and hugged him, and asked him to tell me what happened. He was told by the doctor that it was a "worst case scenario", and that what happened inside David's little body occured 1 in 10 million. David only had 15in of small intestine, and he should have had over 200. He would be unable to drink, swallow, much less eat, because his body could not absorb the food nutrients, and there was no exit; because his small intestines did not fully form, his large intestine did not form properly either. The small intestines were not connected to the large intestines. He had to have a tube down his mouth to his stomach to pump out any stomach or oral secretions. Needless to say everything changed in an instant for me and my husband, and our families. My sister Laurie Beth was going to be an aunt and couldn't wait to babysit. My mom Gail was to keep Baby Dave when I was at work, and he was her first grandchild. My brother David had talked about teaching him how to throw a football, play basketball and baseball. I feel the most sorry and most guilty though for my husband. He was so proud, and still is. But I feel like I "took" his only child, a son, away from him. Every time I look at my husband I hurt for him. He's a good husband and Daddy and did not deserve this, but then no one does. It's been over three months now, and although we both have bad days and better days, there don't seem to be any real good days, because things just aren't right. My husband still has more bad days than I. He is so sad, and misses his boy so much. Sometimes I can hardly stand it. But he is a good Daddy. Matt made most all the major decisions after we found out that our precious baby would soon die. He consulted with me on everything, but I was just too shocked to even wash my face or make a full sentence. We decided to take David Brooks home to meet his family, and die in His Home. Our close friends and family were at my house all ready for David's homecoming on Sunday, March 7, 2004. For the next few days, people were constantly there to see David, see us, bring lunch, deliver flowers, etc. It truly was amazing how much people were affected by David, and knowing that he wouldn't be here long. Everyone got a chance to hold him, but whenever I felt like he needed me or his daddy, we went to the bedroom and rested with him some. David never cried, he just made a little uncomfortable face every few hours...that told us it was time for Morphine. Since he couldn't eat or drink anything, we bought cherry and vanilla chapstick. He loved the feel of chapstick on his lips, and we think he might have tasted some of the flavor. He had a sponge-bath everyday, and loved being naked. That was usually the times he smiled. He smiled, too, when seeing his daddy. And when his daddy would speak, David would turn towards his voice. They knew and bonded with each other from Day 1, when I couldn't be there. I sang "Jesus Loves Me" all the time. That's the only song that I could think of. He seemed to be soothed by it. Matt and I even changed his diapers, even though there was less and less urine and no stool. When his diapers got dry, that meant his time was coming. I can't describe to you the feeling of looking at your child, holding it, and knowing that at any minute, they will die...and YOU CAN'T STOP IT. His little soft spot began to sink a little, indicating he was becoming more and more dehydrated. Late on the evening of March 10th, David's color began to turn dusty and his fingers and toes blue. I knew immediately what was happening. David was a little more fussy, and my husband thought he had somehow hurt David. I told Matt that he didn't do anything to David, but I didn't tell him what I knew either. Matt began to cry...he soon realized what I knew...David was dying. We gave him some more of his morphine which he had to have every 4 hours, and he continued to rest peacefully. My husband called Hospice and my mom called the family. For a couple of hours we all sat on and by the bed, crying, praying. My husband and I held David in our arms as his breaths became farther and farther apart. I told him over and over again, how much I loved him, and that he could go see Jesus when he was ready. Finally, I had my hand on his little chest, and not long after his last gasping breath, I felt his last heartbeat. After a few moments, the Hospice nurse took him, and layed him on the bed. She removed the tube from his mouth; unfortunately this restarted his heart. Until this point the only person that had not held David was one of his uncles, so at that moment my husband handed him over to his loving uncle, Andrew. Andy cried as he held and loved his only nephew. My husband and I then layed with David as he hung on. We all fell asleep. The next morning, early, David finally passed into Glory. Again I held him with his Daddy and told him how much we loved him. I sang Jesus Loves Me. After he died the Hospice nurse took him and changed him into his baptism outfit with the help of his grandma Gay while we changed our clothes. My husband put on a button-down white shirt, khakis, a belt, and dress shoes. I don't remember what I wore. Someone from the funeral home was outside at the road waiting for his cue. My husband, though, wanted to take his boy to the funeral car hisself. So Matt held David in a blanket, and I followed him out the back door, down the driveway and to the car. We kissed our son goodbye. Matt placed David in a small basket in the back seat and covered him with the blanket. The car door was closed and David left us. We watched as the car drove out of site with our little boy in it. The funeral was 2 days later, and he was buried next to his great-grandaddy and grandma Gay. It's been over 3 months now, and although the days and nights are more bearable, we will never be the same. We are better people, though, just broken. I love my baby so much, and I feel guilty for those others who love him too, and had such plans with him and for him. It is something you don't get over. We just try to get THROUGH each day with God's help, so that we will see him again soon. Thank you for listening. And please sign David's guestbook. I want to know that someone has heard about my son...my biggest fear is that he will be forgotten by others...I can't let that happen. God Bless you all, Crystal Gay www.babiesonline.com/babies/b/babydave
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