Today, I feel most privileged to share a submission from a reader named Dani, who has selflessly offered a little of her journey with her son, Jasper. Please join me in welcoming Dani and show her you have read by leaving a comment below if you are able.
To properly convey her thoughts and emotions, she has also included a poem she penned at the time which illustrates beautifully – painfully – how she was feeling, inside and out, at the time. Dani says, “I understand so many out there cannot find the words and I hope mine can help.”
I am certain they do help, Dani. Thank you so much for sharing this.
|I loved him dearly
More and more every second he was with me
I held him so gently
Then tears began to pour
Because I knew by the end of the day
I wouldn’t have him anymore.In tears I saw him sinking,
I watched him fade away.
He suffered much in silence,
He fought so hard to stay.
He faced his task with courage.
God saw him getting tired
So when I saw him sleeping
But I’d have done anything to keep him out of harm’s way
In my arms he died
I’d have given him my every breath
At 23 weeks I was diagnosed with Pre-ruptured membranes. I was in and out of the hospital for weeks until the 18th of November, 2009. I endured needles, magnesium drips and adrenaline shots. I was on constant medication to prevent any kind of illnesses. I had to take my temperature 5 times a day to make sure it remained constant.
On November 18, I woke up in pain. A few hours later the pains were worse than before. We headed towards the hospital. I was moved into a birthing suite where the pains got worse and worse. The monitor on my belly was telling us that the baby’s heart beat was breaking 200 beats a minute.
At about 9am the surgeon came in and told us that the only way Jasper was going to have a chance was if we delivered the baby now via emergency c- section, I was in the surgery by 9.15am and the baby was out and born at 9.31am. To our shock and amazement it was a boy: Jasper Rhys Hall (four separate ultrasound tech’s told us it was a girl ). They got him breathing and then rushed him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). An hour later we went to see him.
Jasper was in an incubation chamber, with lots of tubes going in and out of him and a machine making him shake to help him breath. He was red in colour due to the bruising because he had refused to come out into the cold.
Later that afternoon around 6pm, we left my hospital room to go down and see him. We were greeted at the door by two solemn nurses and a very serious doctor. Basically, they told us that he wasn’t taking oxygen any more and his oxygen stat’s were dropping and that we had to make a decision, as he had a very very slim chance at recovering his oxygen levels. But as he had been with so little for such a long period of time, there was a very high chance he would be severely brain damaged. Our choices were to either let him live and see if he would pull through, or we could pull the plug and let him slip gently away surrounded by those who cared for him.
We decided that it was best to just let Jasper go. As my husband went into the waiting room to get his family, it fully dawned on me that we were losing our son. By the time my husband came back, I had organized for Jasper to be baptized and a priest was on his way down. He was baptized while still in his incubation chamber. Then the rest of the family turned up to say their farewells.
Jasper was taken out of his incubation chamber and laid on a bed with me and my husband. Everyone said their goodbyes. Then as his machine was turned off, he went still. The doctor pronounced him at 7.32pm on the 18th of November 2009. We said our final goodbyes a mere 10 hours after first meeting our little man.
October is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness month
While care and consideration is especially important in the first weeks, months and even several years
after a loss such as Dani’s, the acknowledgement of the long-reaching impact of such a loss
is so important for all who have lost a child.
~Lest we forget~
Although they could not stay, these tiny lives were here
and they’ve made their mark forever on their parents and loved ones.
Please be mindful of the hearts and memories you move amongst, always.
You just never know who has been touched in this way nor where they are in their own inner personal journey of recovery.