I am no stranger to death.
Between personal family losses and working as a nurse for the last 10 years I have attempted to thwart, seen, and touched death on numerous occasions. I have cried for those I have lost and cried with those left behind after a loved one passed… I even supported a family that became scared when a loved one on hospice was passing and thus called 9-1-1. I remember that particular time and wondering what was going through their minds when they called for help. After all, they had determined that their family member was going to pass and had made the decision to help them be as comfortable as possible when their time came… I get it now.
After Logan’s birth we were in an ambulance within 30 minutes and shipped to the NICU. I remember snuggling my baby and soaking him in trying not to think about how terrifying it was to be on this side of things. Upon arrival to the NICU, when the nurses took him from my arms and put him on the warmer, I immediately hid behind my clinical mind. It was like a defense mechanism that I couldn’t turn off. When they told me that they thought it was trisomy 13 or 18 I looked at the midwife and asked her to explain what that meant to Brian. I was devastated and somehow couldn’t let myself show it. As I watched my amazing partner crying I had an out of body experience wondering if I was broken because no tears were threatening to fall… What if nursing and having to remain professional in the face of unspeakable situations had broken me and left me a shell of a mother?
Minutes later, I sat next to the warmer holding my little baby’s hand while the pediatrician asked me to sign a DNR order for my less-than-two-hour-old son. I agreed. I remember feeling completely disconnected and thinking how cruel it was that I had to make that decision for him. I had expected to sign one for my parents at some point, but never my child. Still, no tears came.
In fact, it wasn’t until late that night, after everyone else was asleep that I was finally able to cry. I cried for my sweet little baby, I cried for Brian, I cried for my family, and I cried for me. Until that moment, I actually thought that my training and experience had broken me. I thought that I was going to be incapable of letting my clinical guard down to show up for my son as his mother and not a nurse.
Fast-forward two and a half days later. We were in our bedroom and Brian was holding Logan. My mom and sister were there and we were talking about running errands or something like that… Brian said my name in a panicked voice and I looked down to see my son’s face the worst shade of purple I had ever seen. I again reacted. I grabbed him, tore off his wrappings, realized he wasn’t breathing, and began giving him rescue breaths.
Yes, he was a DNR. Yes, this was supposed to happen… But, I simply couldn’t let him go without a fight. I wasn’t ready. I needed him to stay longer. I needed him. And I have felt so guilty that I couldn’t let him go peacefully.
I gave him breath after breath in between saying things like, “breathe for mommy,” “stay with me Logan, mommy isn’t ready yet,” and “Please breathe Logan.”
After he went limp in my arms I knew he was gone… I have never made a sound like that before. My baby was gone.
I wasn’t brave enough to just let him go. I have thought about that moment so many times and felt incredible shame that I was so scared. I knew he was going to leave us, but, I honestly thought we would have more time. Did I show up as a nurse or his mother?
Yesterday, I had a massage for my birthday that brought all of these feelings out. For 50 minutes I relived that moment and thought about how I could have done it differently… I ended up sobbing after the therapist left.
The fact is: Logan’s mother IS a nurse. She has gone through countless hours of training so that she will act in times of crisis. Asking her to simply hold the one person she loves above all others in the world while they struggled to breathe and died is asinine. She had to act or she would always wonder what if.
My efforts did not prolong my son’s life, but they were a way that I could show him love. I love him more than I ever knew I could love someone and I needed to share my training and expertise. It is time to lay this guilt to rest. I acted as any mother with tools to potentially save her dying child would… I used them.
Good things:
- That massage really helped to work out some knots
- I spent a wonderful day at the spa with my incredible husband
- We are in the mountains… I need not say more
- I have been able to eat my favorite breakfast twice in the last three days (Westside benes!)