I always thought that today, the first anniversary of Alex's death that I'd have something extremely profound to post here. I don't. So I'd like to just remember for a moment. Remember a day that will be hard for me to remember and hard for you to read.
I knew. I knew days before. I don't know how I knew but I did. I talked to my friend Brandy on Monday about it. I kept telling myself that I was being stupid, he'd be fine.
I saw so many other babies get better. I saw their chests closed, I saw thier mothers hold them.
I felt the need for the other kids to come and see Alex. That didn't happen because they got sick. I so badly now wish they had.
That day, that phone call. Hearing those words "Alexander has taken a turn for the worse, please come" I knew then. There's something strangly frightening in those things you know without being told.
I ran. I ran through the snow until I couldn't breathe. I ran some more. I ran into the hospital and waited for an eternity for those stupid elevators. I ran through the halls....... I wanted to run the other way. I got to the unit and I took the back way to his room, subconciousely I knew if I ran past the desk someone would try to stop me. I needed to go in there, I needed to see.
I ran into the room and saw 2 of our doctors standing on either side of Craig. I'm not sure if the room was silent or if I just wasn't hearing the chaos that was going on, I don't remember hearing anything. It must have been loud though because I had to holler Craig's name 3 or 4 times before one of the doctors heard me, I was standing right next to him.
I didn't look at Alex's bed. I asked if he was coding and was told yes. I had always envisioned breaking down hearing words like that, I was running on pure adrenaline I guess because I was very matter of fact about it.
They wanted more tests. We all knew it was futile. I'm glad we did those tests though.
We go back into Alex's room. The nurse is doing chest compressions. I look down at his little body and see his chest ripped back open. I can see the metal clips holding his sternum together. The mama bear in me took over, stop hurting him! I looked at the nurses teary face and told her to stop, she looked at the dr who nodded his head and lifted her hands off his chest. I kissed Alex and told him I loved him, so did Craig. He was already gone, his soul was gone to heaven long ago. Someone turned the monitor off. That monitor had been my lifeline for so long, my information station. The only real consistant thing I had, that was probably the most real thing, seeing that monitor go black.
I sat down and she put Alex in my arms. The most primal emotions took over and I cried like I have never before in my life. I wailed, I couldn't breathe. So many thoughts filled my head and then were replaced by new and sometimes conflicting ones in seconds. I was strangely relieved. I kept saying in my head "it's over, it's finally over" and then guilt for thinking that would come. For once his peace didn't come from a medicine pump, his chest didn't forcefully move up and down in the unnatural way a ventilator breathes. He was at peace, for the first time ever.
they asked if we wanted a private room. I couldn't bear to move from HIS space. I felt like if we moved then that started the change and I wasn't ready for the change just yet. I needed to do it slowly, one step at a time.
Telling the kids was excrutiating. Watching their hearts break in two. Watching them hold his tiny body. Shaylin's words "momma he's cold" will ring in my head forever and ever.
I wanted to stay forever and hold him but I coudln't. The physical changes were setting in and I didn't want to remember him that way. I said goodbye and laid him on the bed that he had laid on for the past 6 weeks, in his little blue pajamas and hat, the only clothes he'd ever worn. I turned around and walked away. I walked away from him. I had always refused to leave the cities without him, and now I had to.
I left a peice of my soul there too.