solomon, part 3: dark day

i've been putting off writing this part of your story, because honestly, the fear is still too fresh in my mind. i sit down to write it out and get a lump in my throat. i write one or two sentences before i start crying again and have to quit. every parent's worst nightmare happened to you and us around 8:30pm on May 30.

all of your friends and visitors left, and the nurse came in to take you into the nursery "to weigh you." we let her take you, and she said she would be right back. well, ten minutes passed. then fifteen. i got a little antsy-- what was taking so long? after twenty minutes i sent your daddy to go check on you.

he came back and looked dazed-- he said the nurse told him you had turned blue while you were in the nursery. that you had started shaking and stopped breathing. they had had to give you oxygen. and now you were being taken to the "special care" unit for newborns on a different floor.

we were so confused and felt so lost. we were also only going on about two hours of sleep. we followed the head nurse of special care as she wheeled you onto the elevator. she was talking about what happened but i couldn't understand what she was saying. while we were in the elevator, you had another 'episode'. you turned gray-ish and shook a little. we couldn't do anything-- we could only watch you.

the head nurse put you in a room and the other night nurses began to hook you up to monitors while she sat us down and had us sign documents. she was very matter a fact about it all-- said they were going to put you on antibiotics-- i asked why? she said it was precautionary because they didn't know what was causing your 'episodes'. all i could think about was what i'd read about antibiotics killing gut flora (not very useful information in this situation, but i think my brain was searching for anything familiar-- any grounds that would make a decision seem rational). it was about 11pm on may 30 at this point; i was so tired. i buried my face in my hands and choked out "i just want to go home-- i just want to take him home." the nurse looked at me condescendingly and scoffed out didn't i want what was best for my baby?? of course i did. of course i did. i was so tired. i just wanted to go home. to take my healthy normal baby home. what was happening?

(i think back on that moment with the nurse all the time-- and i feel so ashamed. she made me feel so stupid. so shameful. so weak. i can't put it out of my head. it's one of the only things about that night that i remember clearly. the look she gave me. how she made me feel-- that i was only a mother for 12 hours and my baby was maybe dying. i was already failing at making decisions for him.)

we signed everything and consented to everything. what else could we do? the night nurses poked you again and again with the IV needles, trying to get an IV in your newborn veins. you screamed and screamed, and we watched and held your hand and cried. we were so frustrated with the nurses-- they talked to you in candy tones while they hurt you. said your name stupidly. tsk-tsked at you when you wouldn't cooperate. i wanted to slap them. to scoop you up and run out of there. take you outside. maybe all you needed was fresh air.

that night was one of the longest of my life. the monitors would alarm at least twice an hour when your oxygen got too low. the night nurse would eventually come in and bring you oxygen, but in the mean time, we were there wide eyed-- not sure if we should go running for help or if they were aware of you and it was normal.

that next morning, a pediatrician came in and assessed you. he said he thought you were having seizures and was sending you to Children's Hospital downtown. the medic team from children's came and got you around 10am and we followed you there in our car. when we arrived, your friend jordan was there to meet us. it was so great to have someone there with us when we got there. to not have to wander the halls alone looking for where to check in. they told us you'd had another 'episode' on the way there and that you had been rushed into a CAT scan so we couldn't see you right away. so we waited. while we waited, more friends came-- brooklyn, josh & tiffany, kristal & sonny, and of course, pops and grandma betty were already there.

when we were finally allowed to see you, they were hooking you up to an EEG-- a monitor that would track any seizure activity. so many little colored wires glued to your head-- you were trying to scream while they did it, but by now your little voice was gone from crying and all you could manage was a squeak.

so scared for you.

the pediatrician team came by and showed us the results of the CAT scan-- they were not in great detail but they were clear enough to reveal that you had suffered a medium-to-large brain bleed. my heart felt so crushed, i tried hard not to cry in front of the doctors but it wasn't working. they said they were going to put you on seizure medication in the mean time, to help you recover and hopefully stabilize you for a MRI (which would provide them with a more detailed and accurate view of your brain).

we went out to the waiting room and told all of your friends. they were crushed for you, for us. we prayed and prayed for your healing. wept bitter tears.

papa and granna came a few hours later and we took them back to see you for the first time. no one could hold you because you had to be monitored, but we stood by you and held your hand.

that evening we made the hard decision to leave you at Children's and go get some sleep at home. it had been 72 hours since we'd slept more than two hours. we came through the door and walked up the stairs. my heart was so heavy. i suddenly felt so empty. no baby in my belly. no baby in my arms. no baby for the nursery that was all ready for you. we sat in your room that night and wept. prayed for God to spare your life. thanking Him for providing care and wise doctors for you already. we named what we were most afraid of-- you dying. your mind being lost. never getting to know you. but we also rejoiced that we had been given the gift of knowing you at least for those almost two days.

you were so worth it.