My hubby is from Kentucky and we make a trip to see his family every year, twice a year. We were planning to go hang out with his family for the forth of July. We had just found out about Ethan's seizures and we needed a diversion. We needed to laugh, be hugged and laugh some more. The last month had been really hard.
2 days before we were to leave, I was in the washroom and bent over to put some clothes in the dryer. I felt a sharp twinge just below my belly. I grabbed the bottom of my belly and limped to the den and felt the twinge again. I called out to D and he came in and put my feet on a large pillow and asked me what was going on. I didn't feel good. I became really sick to my stomach and got really worried. Ethan always seems to know when his mommy doesn't feel good and came in to rub my back. I called the doctor and after providing more symptoms and feelings, he asked me to come in. Even though I did not feel the best, I thought the doctor would me come in, check me out and send me home and say we could not go on our trip.
Ethan and I got to the hospital, got to the doctor's office and they rushed us into the back. As soon as the doctor finished examining me, I could see the words on his face. He said, it is not good, you have started labor, the sac is about to break and when it does, I will not be able to stop the process. More than likely, you will lose this baby. I took a breath, looked at Ethan and started crying ... HARD. I could not believe what he was telling me. Ethan started crying because I started crying. I asked the doctor if I could call D and have him come to the doctor's office and he said, you need to call him and meet in labor and delivery. You HAVE to check in NOW!
Ethan and I called D and I don't even know what I said. After we spoke with D, Ethan and I went to labor and delivery where I called my sister to come and pick up Ethan. He didn't understand. I wished I had not brought him with me, but I didn't think it was going to be a big deal. I tried to stay composed and it was really, very hard. D worked 20 minutes from the hospital and was there before I knew it and took Ethan out of the room to try and explain what was going on. How do you explain to a 6 year old what all the noise, people, and tubes mommy had running up her arm was? My sister arrived to take Ethan home to my dad's house. D and I said our goodbyes to Ethan who wanted to know why he couldn't stay with us. He cried and cried. My heart ached for him. I wanted him to stay with us, but he didn't need to be there. That night, the doctors said if I could make it through the night, the baby might be okay, but I would have to stay in the hospital for the duration of the pregnancy which meant 19 more weeks and I would have to be transferred to another hospital 30 miles away. We were already 35 miles from home at this hospital. I could NOT imagine what that would have been meant for D and Ethan. Trying to "live" life and see me throughout the week in another city for 19 more weeks. How would that happen? Who would take Ethan to his doctor's appointment, his MRIs, to school. Would D be able to keep his job throughout all of this? What about Ethan?
The next morning around 2am, I went into full labor, delivered Denham and she was gone. I had just heard her heartbeats and only minutes later she was gone ... gone to be with Jesus. D and I got to hold her and spend time with her, but no where near the amount of time we should have spent with her.
Later than morning I was moved to a "regular" room away from the labor and delivery floor, the hospital said because I didn't need to hear the cries of newborn babies and I didn't need the reminder that I wouldn't be taking my precious Denham home.
Ethan spent the night with my dad which he LOVED doing and I didn't want to tear him away, but I needed him to come back and be with me and D. I needed my immediate family. Ethan laid in the hospital bed with me , hugged me all morning long and ate my food. By 10:00am, I was ready to get the heck out of there. So we came home.
We closed all the blinds and covered the windows. We didn't want to see out and didn't want anyone in. Kinda sad when I think of it because Ethan was trapped with his parents who were mourning differently in the same house. His dad not saying much and his mom screaming at the top of her lungs every other minute. Only time could heal the hole in my heart.
Today, Ethan speaks of Denham. He didn't get to see her in the hospital, but likes to look at her picture. Occasionally he will write her a letter or pray for her, but the four years after her death and before his surgery, he would become totally obsessed with her. He talked about her so much at school, his teachers thought that she was still alive and I just never brought her to school with me. At one point, I was spinning my wheels because he didn't understand she wasn't coming back and was asking about her all .. the .. time. Each seizure would chip a little more at his memory and because he was having more seizures, we spent more and more time explaining death and Denham to him. It was a lesson in futility for me. It began to drive me crazy (just being real) and I didn't know what to do. All I could do was pray. Since his surgery, he understands death more. He says he still misses her, but he is not asking questions daily about her anymore. Things have gotten much better, but we all miss her.
After Denham died, Ethan's doctors wanted us to take some time to grieve. Not too much time passed and they scheduled his MRI 2 weeks later. I had heard of MRIs before, but I had never seen one performed, especially not an MRI with a child, any child and especially NOT my child ... Ethan had to be put to sleep to get the answers that were needed to get to the bottom of this mass, tumor, this thing in his head and we didn't like that at all. We were introduced to the "team" of doctors that would help Ethan on this new journey of his life.
D and I were about to begin fighting the battle for Ethan's life.
