Uriah's last day

I would have never guessed that filling out a survey on my stay in the hospital would be so painful. One of the questions – Did you have enough time to bond with your baby? Yes or No…NO, I DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO BOND WITH MY BABY!!!

I was thinking today about our last day with Uriah. How I wish I could redo that day. Not that I would change much, but I just want to hold him and kiss him again. Looking back I recall holding him and wishing I was alone with him. I’m very thankful for all my family and friends that shared the day with us. It’s just that when so many people are watching you hold your baby for the first and last time you really can’t get all that comfy. I wanted to talk to him but I felt silly talking to him in front of everyone. I told him I loved him but that was all. There were so many things I wanted to share with him, to teach him, to sing to him. I can’t believe I never sang to him. This makes me so sad.

My parents held him. When I first asked them to join us they didn’t want to be in the room. Not long after we had gone to the private room they came knocking on the door. I’m so glad they did…precious memories. Soon it was time to take Uriah off of the respirator. They brought him to me. His breathing was so labored. I instantly remembered being with a friend of mine who had three babies that passed away shortly after birth. One of the hardest things was listening to them gasp for air. I had asked God back then to never let that happen to me. Now here I was faced with that awful sound. I thought my husband probably wanted to hold Uriah, but I couldn’t let him go. I tried to place Uriah on Jesse’s lap while continuing to hold him. After about half an hour I was sure he was gone. You could no longer hear him breathing, but when the doctor checked he still had a heartbeat. Dr. Knee came back about ten minutes later and little Uriah had left us. Although I’m so sad that Uriah never saw us I’m thrilled that the first time he saw anyone it was our Lord and Savior!

Everyone started to trickle out of the room to go home. Jesse and I were finally alone with our son. I can’t speak for Jesse but I didn’t want to ever have to leave. Even though I knew Uriah was no longer with us I didn’t want to let him go. We stayed and held him and talked and laughed and cried for another four hours. When we finally left the hospital I could hardly take the pain. I didn’t want Jesse to see me cry anymore so I held it all in, but it was harder to walk out of the hospital without Uriah than to hear him take his last breath. No mother should have to leave the hospital without her baby.

The pain is lessening but it is still so strong at times I feel it might overtake me. It’s a pain that you can’t describe. I had a woman say to me, shortly after Uriah died, that she knew exactly how I felt. This woman doesn’t have any children. She has no clue how I feel. There are many people that do know how I feel and I hate it for them. I wish now I would have been more caring and thoughtful when friends of mine lost their babies.

Uriah is buried in a cemetery about a quarter of a mile down the road. I don’t believe he can hear me, but every time I pass the cemetery I tell him I love him. Sometimes I’ll say, “What do you think, Oliver?” Oliver is the nickname my dad gave him. While I was pregnant I would ask “Oliver” that very question. Sometimes he would kick as if to answer me. Now there is no kicking…no answer at all. I miss him terribly.

Uriah, day three

I find it amazing that things I once thought were so important I now couldn’t care less about. I just want to hold my son. My arms ache for him. My ears long to hear him. My heart seems to break a little more each day I go without him. People have told me that the pain never goes away, but that it will lessen. I pray they are right.

Day three I woke up around 5:00am and wondered if I should try to go back to sleep. I decided to go see Uriah instead. The NICU was quiet. I noticed a new baby had been brought in and was just across from Uriah. This new little guy was squirming and crying as the nurse cared for him. I looked at Uriah and wished he could squirm and cry. I could hear the respirator breathing for him. I noticed some changes in him. His “hiccups” were not as frequent or as strong. His little eyes were swollen. His left hand was clenched tight. His little arms and legs kept jerking and shaking as if he was cold. I did not like these changes because he seemed to be slipping further away from me. His nurse seemed to sense the pain I felt and tried to ease the pain. She talked of only positive things about Uriah. We discussed a book she was reading. We complained about the weather. We talked about everything but the inevitable.

Jesse and his mom arrived around 10:00am. The doctor had just started talking to me about what our options were. There weren’t many. It was more of a question of when. When were we going to choose to say good-bye to our son? I didn’t want to say good-bye. I begged God to let me keep him. The staff kept telling us about a private room they had just for saying good-bye. I didn’t want to go to that stupid room. I wanted to go to the “hello room.”

My parents arrived a little later and brought Phebe, our oldest daughter. She’s sixteen and we felt she needed to be a part of everything. At the last minute we decided that Abner, our 10-year-old son, should be there as well. My friend Loni was gracious enough to go pick him up for us. I also contacted my niece Lois who is a professional photographer to ask her to take some pictures of Uriah’s last hours. The pastor that counseled us before we were married and also performed our wedding ceremony came. We love Pastor Mead so much. In fact, Uriah’s middle name was partly for him. He told us that day that we needed to realize that we had done nothing wrong to cause this and that it was not our fault. He made reference to John 9 when the disciples asked Jesus who had sinned to make this man blind and Jesus answered, no one. I sure needed to hear that. He also told us that God loved us, and that God loved Uriah even more than we did. His words of love and compassion comforted us deeply. He hugged on us, cried with us, and prayed with us.

I had gotten pregnant with Uriah before we were married and I was sure I would somehow have to pay for that sin. Pastor Mead helped me realize months before that Uriah was not a mistake and that if I confessed my sin it was forgiven and paid for. It wasn’t until that day in his office, months earlier, that I allowed myself to love Uriah. It was also during this time that Jesse and I decided that we needed to rededicate our lives to the Lord and get back in church. We didn’t want to raise this baby outside of church. It was because of Uriah that we ended up back in church. This seems so ironic to me now.

Around 3pm Jesse’s mom, Jesse, Phebe, Abner and I went to the private room. The team of nurses brought him in. The respirator was still breathing for him. We sat on the couch not quite sure what to do. His nurse finally said we could hold him. I had Phebe sit in the chair and I placed Uriah in her arms. It was so bittersweet. I loved seeing her hold and love on her baby brother, but I hated knowing that it would be for such a short time.

Then it was Abner’s turn and I recalled him asking me about a week earlier if he could be the second or third person to hold Uriah after he was born. I had told him I would do my best. I never dreamt it would be a one-time event.

Grandma Olson held him next. Jesse and I just held each other and hurt for her. She was so strong. She smiled and had such sweet things to say about her grandson, but we knew the pain she must be feeling inside.

Finally Jesse was able to hold his son. I recall the look of anticipation on his face. I also remember the look of pain. He had his little boy and had to say good-bye to him way too soon.

Then Jesse handed our son to me. I will never forget how Uriah felt in my arms. He was heavier than I imagined. He fit perfectly in the crook of my arm. I kissed his soft little head and tried to soak in his smell, his softness, and his newness. I never wanted to let him go. He was perfect. He was beautiful. He would soon be gone.

Uriah, day two

Grief is quite mysterious. Why does it hit at the strangest times? I went to the doctor’s office today and it hit me. I had imagined bringing Uriah in and showing him off to the staff. All I had to show off today was my fat rolls. Tears…

Monday morning came with not much change. I waited for Jesse to get to the hospital before going to see Uriah. To be honest I can’t remember much from this day. Uriah had never quit having the “hiccups.” I asked the nurse that morning what they were. She said she had just asked the doctor that same question. He didn’t believe they were hiccups at all. Instead he thought them to be a spinal reflex of some sort. He thought that sometime the night before Uriah was born either the umbilical cord became twisted or the placenta started to pull away from the uterus causing Uriah to not get enough oxygen. Uriah then tried to breath and this is what caused the reflex.

The doctor that delivered Uriah came to see us that morning. He sat on the other side of Uriah’s bed and just stared at him and shook his head. He said, “Hannah, I’ve been doing this for over 30 years and have never seen anything like this.” I immediately wondered if this was supposed to make me feel better or worse. I was so angry. I wondered then why it had to be Jesse and me that had to go through this? I knew we would be hearing people say that God wouldn't give us more than we could handle. I hate when people take that verse (I Corinthians 10:13) out of context. The verse is saying that we will not be tempted above what we are able to handle, and that God will make a way for us to escape the temptation. This was not a temptation, and yes many people said that to us. After the anger passed I started to ask God, and myself, “Why us?” Was it because we were strong enough to handle it? I don’t think so. Was it because we deserved it? I don’t believe that either. Was it because the devil wanted to prove to God that we weren’t serious about serving and loving Him? I’m leaning toward believing this. I then asked myself, “Why not us?” Why did I think myself so special that something like this couldn’t happen to us? Since starting this blog I have been amazed to find how many people have had to deal with infant death. What made us any different or better than them?

We waited half the day Monday to find out if they were going to do a second EEG on Uriah, and then the rest of the day to find out the results. We didn’t hear anything until early evening. The results were that nothing had changed. In my heart I had known that this is what they were going to tell us, but I sure had hoped for quite the opposite. I tried so hard not to cry. Jesse and I were standing there staring at our son and I just buried my head in his shoulder and cried. I realized then and there that I would never hear Uriah cry. I would never see him try to toddle through the house. I would never hear his giggle. I would never feel the warmth of his body next to mine. I wouldn’t be able to rock him to sleep or sleep with him on my chest. I wouldn’t get to stand up for him to his siblings for getting into their things. I would never see him on the basketball court, on stage, on the baseball field, or running over the hill to see his grandparents.

Jesse and his mom went back home that night with heavy hearts. I went to bed wondering if I really wanted to live. I talked with three different friends that night. They were all so loving and caring. They helped to lessen the pain as I fell asleep. Jesse and I had to decide within the next few hours what we were going to do. How does a parent decide to take their son off of a respirator? This is not a decision any parent should have to make.