My Story

I caution reading this, as I am pouring my personal thoughts into this. I need a release, a way to let it out. This is my story of losing my son.

Josh's car had broken down, and was in the shop,and my father in law took me to work that day. Looking back, I can only think that was meant to happen that way.

I woke up at 2:30am to feed Riley, and after eating, he went back to sleep. I was to be at work at 7am that morning. After getting ready, I went into the bedroom to kiss my boys goodbye. I leaned into our bed and kissed Tommy, and then walked to the crib. I stoked Riley's back, he barely stirred, his hand moved. I leaned down and kissed his head and said goodbye.

At 8:15am I received the phone call. My cell phone rang, and I was in my office so I answered it. It was my father in law. I could tell in his voice, as he spoke the words that something was wrong. I don't remember quite exactly what he said, but his voice cracked with emotion as he said that when Joan went to wake Tommy for school, she saw Riley was stuck in between the mattress and the crib. My heart sank, and I asked if he was alright, he said that the paramedics were working on him. At that moment, I knew it was serious. He asked me to call Josh.

I remember my hands shaking so hard, I could barely find his work number in my phone, I called his cell first, with no answer. When I got through to his work, I screamed at the girl that it was an emergency and I needed to talk to Josh right away. When I was on hold, Josh called me back. When I answered, I remember screaming into the phone, "Riley's dead!", and something else, I don't know why I said those words. I had not received true notice yet that he was dead, why would I say that? I don't know. I needed someone to come pick me up, but Josh was much closer to the house, so he wanted to go straight home. I said that I would call Krissy to come get me. I called Krissy, and don't even remember having that conversation.

At some point, someone at work must have heard my screaming or crying, and although I had closed my door, another manager came in. I remember him asking me what was wrong, and I just screamed and collapsed. I remember him pulling me into a chair. I remember his hand on my knee, and seeing his hand shaking, then I realized that I was shaking violently. I remember screaming out, "God, please don't take my baby", over and over. As he hugged me, I barely remember his words, but he kept saying, "it will be alright", over and over. I knew that it wouldn't.

It was like a shift, a mental off switch. I felt numb. But not as numb as I would later. My therapist says that it is one of the body's defense mechanisms when the brain encounters trauma. As I waited for Krissy to get there, either I called her or she called me, I don't remember. She asked how I was doing, and I do remember screaming back into the phone at her, "How the Fuck Do YOU THINK I AM DOING?". Sorry Krissy. Another manager then came and helped me and Cliff outside to wait for Krissy. I felt like I was in a haze, in a dream. I dropped my purse, I didn't care. My arms could no longer hold it. We waited outside, and in seconds, Krissy arrived. I remember someone else from the store coming out to see if I was okay. I got into the car, and we started to head home. I remember telling Krissy that he was dead. She said you don't know that. I said they haven't called. If there was good news, they would call, bad news....no call. Then my phone rang. My heart sprang. It was my father in law, telling me that they had a pulse, and were transporting him to Dell Children's Hospital. Josh was with them in the ambulance.

We changed course and headed for the hospital. I called Josh, and could hear the sirens over his voice. When we got to the hospital, we didn't know exactly where to go. She dropped me off at the emergency entrance. I walked to the desk, and the lady entered my name, and gave me a stupid name tag with smiling children on it. She directed me towards the call and said someone would meet me. As I walked down the hall, I still felt numb. A woman approached me, and introduced herself as the chaplain. Shit. I started crying again, said that I had already lost my parents, why my child. She calmed me, and told me that my husband was already here, and that I had to calm myself, they were working on him. She led me to the room. I saw Josh sitting in the chair, with bloodshot eyeing, crying. I remember feeling so bad that he was by himself. We embraced, crying. They led us to chairs, and another woman introduced herself. I barely remember her words. I remember looking over at the hospital bed, so huge in comparison to the tiny little being that was being furiously worked on in it. I could barely see him through the tangle of wires, nurses and cords. I heard shouts of medical terms, some I recognized, being thrown back and forth to the medical team. Josh and I sat there, holding hands. I prayed for anything, anything. I pleaded with God, begged, and sobbed for him to give me back my baby. I would raise a a disabled child, anything, don't take my baby. As the lady whispered explanations into my ear, I continued to nod, as if I understood. At one point, one of the doctors yelled that they had a pulse, I looked up and clearly remember locking eyes with one of the nurses. It was if she could feel the urgency in my stare. It seemed like hours, then a team from the NICU unit came down, and another rush of hope surged through me, they were seeming more positive that he would be alright. Then, with everyone there, I remember the doctor coming over to us and kneeling before our seats. For a second, I thought she was going to explain what was going to happen next, but then I saw the loss and sorrow in her eyes. She said that there was nothing more they could do, he didn't have a pulse any longer, nothing. I don't remember everything that she said, my mind stopped listening.

I screamed, I clutched Josh and I screamed. Over and over. My baby, my baby. No, not my baby. I can't express the torment, the onslaught of emotions. It didn't seem real. It was just seconds before, and they had hope. Cruel hope. I heard the words of the doctor as she pronounced the time of death. I remember wanting to shove away from everyone, run away, pretend like this didn't just happen. I wanted my mom.

The moments directly after this, I do not remember much at all. My entire body was numb. I stated earlier that I felt numb, that was nothing compared to this feeling. My limbs felt like each one had been tied to 50lb weights. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe. I was worried about Josh. He has never had to experience loss. I was so worried and just overwhelmed with concern for him. I remember bits and pieces, flashes in my memory. From what had once been a room filled with 30 people, filled with energy, had dwindled to few, like a switch had been flicked, the spirit in the room died. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I could run a thousand miles and at the same time, sleep for years. Such an odd feeling.

I remember talking to some people, some taking our information, I don't remember what else. I remember sitting in the chair, watching as a nurse cleaned and wrapped him in a blanket, looking like a newborn. They gave us time alone with Riley. I looked down at the bed, at the little baby that was one my precious son. He chest rose and then fell, like taking a deep breath. My heart stopped. I stammered to the nurse about what I saw, and she explained it was the bodies reflexes. That was like a knife, twisting deep into my heart, a cruel devilish joke. He looked asleep. I picked him up, and he felt so heavy in my arms, I had him for seconds, and then said to Josh that I couldn't hold him. I remember telling myself that I would not regret this. That this was not my baby, he was gone to heaven, this was his shell. I chanted to myself this over and over. Well, now. I regret this. I will have to live with this, and I hate this feeling. I should have held him, rocked him. Josh instead held him and gently walked over to the rocker and sat down. I will never forget the sight of him sobbing over Riley, holding our son. Riley's chest was still moving up and down, and I couldn't take the sight of it. It was unnerving. It was unnatural. It went against all the feelings, to be told he was dead, then to see him seem alive. His coloring was starting to fade. His lips turning blue.

We sat there for long moments, not know what to say. My body and mind had shut down. Words escaped me. I stroked his head, he was gone. Gone, and it was over. This is never supposed to happen, the loss it far to great for a parent to bear. I had to get out of the room. I didn't want to leave Josh, but I couldn't stay. The chaplain walked me outside. We just sat on a bench. I felt torn about being away from Josh, and yet I didn't want to be back in that room. Death held a heavy veil over that room.

Again, I don't remember much. I remember my brother and sister in law coming in. I have only seen my brother cry maybe 3 times in my life, this was one of them. I watched as they leaned over Riley, laying back on the hospital bed. Time moved in slow motion. My brother and I went outside. I felt bad for not being next to Josh the entire time, but I think that we each needed our space, and we would reunite together soon.

Many things happened that day, they moved him into another room, and the pastor from Josh's parents house came. Josh dressed him, I couldn't bear it. I still can't imagine what he felt while dressing our little boy in an outfit. Our beautiful baby. We all gather together to pray. I remember the pastor saying he looked so perfect, so beautiful. In my head, I wanted to scream, "Perfect? Except for the fact that he is DEAD". We all stayed in the room, saying good byes. Everyone left so Josh and I could be alone with him. We sat on the edges of the bed, and I said I'm so sorry, so sorry. My baby boy. He was supposed to be mine, my little version. His little tongue was sticking out, just like he used to do. I remember thinking about his eyes. They were such a beautiful color, gray blue with hits of green or brown around the edges. I told him that I wished we could have seen what color his eyes would have been. We cried and laid over him, saying good bye. I kissed his forehead, now cold.

We left. I was gone. Emotionally, mentally gone. Several conversations had to be held, CPS, Travis County, etc. I remember them shuffling us from area to area. I remember Joan trying to talk to someone on the phone about what happened, and I could tell they couldn't hear her. She said over and over, "My grandson Riley died today". I couldn't take it. I wanted to run away again.

We finally were able to leave. I can't even begin to explain how I felt. It was like leaving that hospital, a piece of my heart and soul was left behind. I have been making it through, but I died a little back there. Deep on the inside. A part to always remain. I have a list of hospitals that I hate, one that my dad died in, and now another that I have to cross off my list.

I have struggled, and continue to struggle with the "what-ifs". As many times as people say, and as many times as I tell myself, it still seems to do no good. What if I had just stayed home, taken a longer maternity leave. I had just gone back to work the previous week. What if I had switched shifts, like Josh and I had talked about the night before. He was right in the middle of the crib when I left in the morning, what if I had just picked him up, told Joan to feed him. What if I had just been better, what if I had bought that baby monitor. What if.... It still kills me. I feel like a failure. Our job in life is to take care of our children. Keep them safe. I failed. I lost my baby.

I regret not holding him. As much as I forced myself to believe that I wouldn't in that moment, I do. I feel like I rejected him. I have to get over that, and in time I will. I regret not calling my Mom back the few times she called before she died. I regret being angry with my Dad before he died, separating myself from him due to teenage angst.

I m so angry, so lost, so tired. I feel compelled to reach out to God, and I have been. But I still feel myself clinging to my grief. I am not letting go, for reasons I have no idea. It's only been a month, and I know from experience that the grieving cycle is a long journey.

I do remember talking to the sheriff. At the end of our conversation, he asked if there was anything that he could do for me. I turned, looked into his eyes, and asked, "Tell me how do I live? How do I keep going?". He said, very simply, "You will".

And I will.

My release came.