Saturday, February 5, 2011

Hard Days

January 5th was our last "good" day with Jack. We had taken him to a doctor's appointment in the early afternoon and then on a quick jaunt to my parent's house from there. We watched the World Juniors game that evening, and he spent the evening in my arms, refusing to sleep without touching me.

On January 6th our world changed, and our little man was admitted to the pediatric unit at our local hospital (where he was born just days earlier) after having difficulty at the lactation clinic. I had decided to take him into the clinic to have them help me correct what I had determined to be a lazy latching problem. He would put my nipples in his mouth, but he'd either tongue them and not suck, or he would latch quickly, painfully, and unlatch quickly after. I marked it up to laziness, as I had been pumping for him to have a bottle (so I could measure how much he was feeding, and whether he was starving). Bottle nipples= easier to latch... easier to latch = lazy baby on the nipple.

Mini "anniversaries" such as today bring me to my knees. I ugly cry, unable to keep myself "together". I miss my little man. It devastates me to think that I was oblivious a month ago tonight, unaware the crying little baby would soon be taken from me. :(

Dates like today, and the next few days in fact, are difficult to bare. To be honest though, I was counting them in weeks, and now the anniversaries will be in both weeks and months.

Days of the week are hard:

Mondays remind me of our first day home with Jack, fresh from the hospital. A week later, Jack was declared a second time, confirming brain death. His organs were listed, and a need for his liver was confirmed through UNOS.

Tuesdays remind me of our only day at home with Jack... No appointments, no doctors, nothing. A week later, also a Tuesday, was the day we marched our little man on his mission to donate his liver... Tuesdays are the day Jack became a hero.

Wednesday we took him to visit my family doctor, the GP who was to become his doctor. We had only One Wednesday with him. Wednesday was our last day with a "healthy" baby.

Thursdays were our lactation clinic visit and the beginning of the end.

Friday we went to SickKids. He received his CT Scans and MRIs. We considered ourselves lucky to be there. World renowned for their miracles, we counted our blessings to have the very best care for our little man. If there's anywhere you want to be when you have a sick baby, this place is it. We believe in SickKids.

Saturday we were told he was brain dead. We realized it was real. We realized it was over. 1 week earlier, he wasn't yet here- we were waiting to meet our sweet baby. One week later, he wasn't here anymore.

Sunday Jack received his blessing. He was declared. Organ donation forms were signed.

See, each day holds a special memory of our beautiful baby boy. I'm so lucky to have had him, but it breaks my heart everyday to know I can no longer have him. It all seems surreal, until I remember that he was real. And he was really loved. He was really here. And he is really, really gone.


Dana said...

This post has me in tears. It is so unfair. (((hugs)))

Anonymous said...

Sorry I am new to your blog, and just having a look through your archives, so forgive the late comment.

When Xavier went to SickKids, I too assumed that the world renown hospital could fix him. Sadly, you cannot fix brain dead...

I am through with wishing and what-ifing, but I do wish they could have helped him (and your Jack).

I am often curious why they never asked for organ donation, we would have been proud to have Xavier save another childs life.

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