As a clinician, I've often been on the other end of this scenario. Nothing prepares you when you lose a child. I continue to ask myself what just happened? Was it my fault? Yes, it is my fault! Why him? Why us? Why God?
As my son was dying in May 2017, Dee was there with me. As I struggled in emotional and physical pain, Dee was there with me. In my darkest hours, when I believed that I had failed, indeed failed; it was Dee who pulled me aside, held my hand, told me I was a good person, a selfless one who desperately wants a child but is not willing to watch this baby suffer endlessly.
My son was not going to make it. They knew it, and I knew it. Dee cared for my child and gave him the best few days. She cared for my family, and she especially cared for me. She protected me. I do not know how to explain how she protected me, but she protected me. I could feel the protection in her voice, her body language, and her demeanor.
As my son was dying, Dee asked, if we wanted him baptized. I did not even know that was an option. I said, yes! She arranged for the baptismal ceremony, and she gave me several options of baptismal gowns to choose from. I could not decide, but I eventually picked one. She dressed him, and I was not too fond of the outfit. I hated it! She said, "Okay, let's try some other ones." I picked another outfit, and it was perfect. The Chaplain baptized my son.
My partner and I will never return to who we once were, but we have begun a second life. A second life that was born out of grief. Yes, we are blessed to have other children; but our love for our son and longing for him is a void that can never be filled by anyone or anything else. It is not about being ungrateful for what we have. It's about loss, the most significant loss that a mother and father could ever experience. Dee understood this. Never once did she say, what most people have told me, "At least you have another child to be grateful for."
What Dee understands is that healing will be a process for us and that there is no way around it but to go through it. She walked with me through portions of my grief while I was in the hospital with my son.
As time has passed and with Dee's presence and parting words; and with the grace of God, I have started to answer my questions. Yes, I will survive this, and in surviving this tragedy, I know I can survive anything life presents. Some days are better than others, but not a day goes by when I don't think about our son. And every time I think about my son, I think about Dee and her kindness.
Let me say that I believe in God. It may sound as if I am giving Dee all the glory when, in fact, it is God that has guided me through this difficult time. That "Peace that surpasses understanding," that people talk about? It's real. Our world was flipped upside down, but we were still standing because of our faith in God, and the love and support of our family and friends.
I also believe that God channels him/herself through people. I also believe that a person must be kind, empathetic, and compassionate, to be able to deliver that healing presence of God. Dee is that person.
They told us our son was a big baby. The first time we saw him, the nurse did her due diligence, telling us that he might not open his eyes, as he had not since delivery. We said, 'Okay". My husband and I went over to his bed, touch him, and said, "Hi Baby," as we typically do. He immediately turned towards us and opened his eyes. It was so dramatic, how it happened, the nurse was taken aback. Then she said, 'Well, I guess he knows who his mommy is". He would track us in the room when we visited him. I did not believe babies that age did such things. I believe he knew his time with us was very limited, and he wanted to get to know us as fast as he could, and as much as he could.
My son died on my chest. I cradled him on the day he took his last breath in the same way I cradled my tummy the first time I saw the flickering heartbeat on the monitor screen when he was only 7 weeks gestation. Dr. S was there with me as well. He had prepared us for this very moment. He was truthful and honest but kind and compassionate. He could feel my pain. I know because I could feel the pain he felt for me. He placed himself in my position, navigated scenarios with me, and helped us come to terms with the catastrophe that was about to hit us. He presented as a human being. Not as the person who had all the answers, but as a parent himself. He was available and answered our questions honestly, not just regurgitating the clichéd cook-book nonsense you hear from physicians.
I told him I wanted to do skin-to-skin as my baby takes his last breaths. He agreed. However, we both forgot. When I remembered, I started banging on the glass door. Dr. S came in, as I held my son in one hand frantically ripping my clothes off. He helped me in the most dignified way without saying a word. He too saw me as a person. He was there with me until the end. Frequently checking my son. He did not write us off and went about his busy day to see his other patients. On that day, Dr. S stayed with us, mourned with us, and told the staff that I had had enough and on no account should I walk to my car. He 'ordered' a wheelchair. He too protected me. He knew. He just knew what I was going through.
I have heard it said that the greatest loss a human being can experience is the loss of a child. This is true. It does not only change you, but it also demolishes you. It is the end of innocence of sorts. The rest of your life is spent on another level.
Before we left the hospital, a nurse took pictures. Dee gave us as much time as we wanted with our son. Any time would not have been enough, but every second counted, and we will never forget.
About eight months after, I returned to work. I returned to Glennon, unsure of how I would manage seeing newborns. However, as God would have it, I walked right into Dee, and she remembered me. In fact, when I stopped her in the hallway and said, "you are Dee, right?", she said, "you are X's Mom...". We hugged and cried. We cried and cried. We just kept crying. She was present. Now, tell me that's not Dee seeing me as a person, which enabled God to work through her, revealing his healing presence.
I do not know if Dee is still at Glennon, but I hope to God she is.
Dee, thank you for your compassion, kindness, and empathy. You saved my life. In your way, you pulled me out of a very dark place. You are exceptional at what you do. You are the nurse I wish I were. You helped me navigate through the most challenging situation I have ever faced and probably will ever encounter. I think about you every single day.
You cared for my family and me in a way that every family should be cared for. At my worst, you were still, and you let your presence talk. You did not judge me because of my accent or the color of my skin. Dee, you saw me as a person.
Dee, I wish you all the best.