Memories of not so good times

Two years ago on the 4th of July I got to hold Gage. It took an act of congress to move him, his breathing tubes, ng tubs, drainage tubes, monitors, etc. from his bed to me. But we did it. My heart was shattered because the nurse had to pump him full of morphine and an anti-anxiety drug before we could move him. He never regained consciousness that week and a half in the PICU, but his body would still get very agitated. It was a terrible sight. But alas, I got to hold him. I tried to hold his hand...to will him to squeeze back, but there was nothing. While I was holding him, we received the MRI report from the specialist. We had just an ounce of hope left until he came and showed us the films. I didn't know exactly what I was looking at, but I knew it was very wrong. The scans of his brain were mostly white. They are not supposed to be white. He starting listing off all the many functions Gage had lost and could never regain. We talked about quality of life. We scheduled a care conference. After this, I was determined to take my sweet Emily to see some fireworks. I was sure that Nashville would have an awesome fireworks show somewhere. It started raining so they set them off hours early with no notice. We missed it. I felt like a huge failure as a parent. I felt like I had let them both down. It was a low time. So last year and this year I have cried all through these days. Remembering how it felt to hold him when he wasn't really there. Knowing that the next time I held him, he would die in my arms. Incomprehensible. I have told you all I would not show you pictures of Gage in the PICU because I want you to remember him smiling. But I will give you a glimpse of what it was like.



Me holding Gage as we were being told the devastating MRI results.



We wanted to keep him warm because his temperature kept dropping



Gage holding his favorite toy.



Gage, I miss you. I would have given my life to save yours. I love you. Mommy