Six months ago. . .

It started out as just a normal day. . .well, as normal as it could be with two babies in the NICU. I can't believe six months have already gone by. We were excited that Olivia and Logan had made it one month and both of their head sonos came back with no sign of PVL. Logan had been having a tougher time and they weren't quite sure what was wrong. We had called that morning, however, and heard he was doing really well. Finally, I had thought. . .Logan was going to turn that corner. I remember my dad took me up there that afternoon because I still wasn't cleared to drive after my c-section. When we arrived at the NICU, I had never seen so many people there. . .especially on the team that Logan was on. He had a nurse that I had never met before (after a month, I thought I had met almost all of them.) I arrived only to hear bad news. Logan was not doing very well again. My hopes were dashed as I learned that it was not the turning point that I was hoping for. I remember being frustrated that I was unable to spend any quiet time with my babies due to the volume of people.

Ryan met me there after work and I said good-bye to my dad. We tried to spend some time together with Olivia and Logan. At that point in time, it was just sitting by their bedside. Even after one month and one day. . .they were still too fragile to hold. We said good-bye to them and headed over to Ryan's parents' house for dinner. That had become a tradition on Friday nights. We were angry when we got to his parents' because we didn't understand why Logan's vent settings and dopamine had been decreased when he was obviously not doing very well. I remember Ryan's allergies were bothering him. He almost fell asleep during the meal. I had asked him what he had taken and he said, "Two of those pink pills." He had taken two benadryls. . .no wonder he was so tired. I had to drive home because I feared we wouldn't make it home with Ryan in such a fatigued state.

We got home around 9:30 - 10 pm. Soon after, we received a call from Olivia and Logan's doctor. Previously, we freaked out every time we received a call from the NICU. . .especially at night. We had just started growing a little more accustomed to it. I knew, however, that the news wasn't good when Ryan got off the phone and said we had to get back to the hospital. I remember calling my parents and Ryan's parents and asking if they could meet us there. Poor Ryan was so tired and I was hysterical, but we made it up there ourselves. All I remember about the drive to the hospital was that I kept saying, "God wouldn't take my baby boy away. . .He wouldn't take my baby boy away." I also called Stacie on the way up there to tell her what was going on. My dad kept in contact with her the rest of the night.

When we arrived, Logan's doctor along with quite a few nurses and RTs were doing chest compressions and switching him over to the high frequency vent. They had already resuscitated Logan a few times and had given him a few shots of epinephrine to the heart. His doctor took us aside and told us that we had to decide how many times we were going to have him resuscitated. He didn't know what kind of damage had already been done. Logan's heart wasn't keeping up with him. Of course, Ryan and I could not make that decision. How could anyone? By that time, our family had arrived. We wanted to go meet with them. After explaining the situation, we still couldn't imagine letting him go. It was then that his doctor came into the room and told us that Logan had already made the decision for us. We all went over to his bedside and they were doing chest compressions again and we watched as his heart rate would fall to 0. I couldn't believe that I was losing my son. They told us to go back to the room and they would wrap him in a blanket and bring him to us. Ryan was unable to walk back to the room on his own and I had to have the help of the nurses. Then, I think I hyperventilated and found it very difficult to catch my breath.

By the time they brought him to me. . .he had already passed on. It was then that I held him for the very first and the very last time. He was free of the ventilator and of all the tape, tubes and wires. I knew that he had gone to a better place, but I still wanted him here. Ryan was able to hold his son. . .our parents were able to hold their grandson and Laura held her nephew. That was the hardest night of my life.

We were then thrust into planning his funeral. We couldn't leave that night until we had chosen a mortuary and by this time it was close to midnight. We didn't get home until the wee hours of the morning. I'm very thankful that our family was there to help us because Ryan and I could not have done it alone. We could not have gotten through it without our precious Olivia. She was the only strong one out of all three of us. I knew we had to go on because of her.

I often wondered what the purpose of prayer was. To this day, I will admit, I am still a little confused. . .not about why we pray, but about why we pray for specific things. What is the point of praying for something specific if it isn't God's will? Shouldn't we just pray for God's will? If the sheer multitude of prayer could change God's mind, surely my Logan would still be here. I'll never understand God's reasons. . at least not in this lifetime. But, I have my husband and I have my daughter and a God who has blessed me with both. . .and I'm going to be just fine.