October 16th, 2019 is the date that our world was forever torn apart.
October 15th, the night before we took Micah to the hospital, he was very fussy all night. In hindsight, he was probably more fussy than he and his twin sister normally were throughout the night.
October 16th, the next morning he took forever to go down for a nap, even after not sleeping much all night. He woke up from his nap crying. This was very unusual for him, he was always an easy baby. We checked his temperature, it was 101.7.
We called the pediatrician’s nurse line and while waiting for a return call we realized how high of a temperature it was for an 8 week old. Without hesitation we hurried to the ER at the closest pediatric hospital. When we got there his temperature was 101.9 and his heart rate was 217.
They took us back immediately.
The doctor came into the room, took one look at Micah and said “Does his color always look like this? I’m worried about him. This kid looks sick.”
They planned on getting blood for cultures/labs and doing a spinal tap. From here, four different nurses, including a PICU nurse tried poking Micah for blood. He was so shut down peripherally that they couldn’t get more than a few drops. These few drops were sent off for cultures but who knew if it was even a big enough sample (it never grew anything or resulted in any answers for us).
Micah started showing signs of respiratory distress and retractions while breathing, his belly was getting distended. The doctor chose to put an IO in his leg for immediate IV access. They pushed some fluids through the IO and an antibiotic but his retractions were getting worse.
This is when the doctor chose to intubate to help alleviate his work of breathing and asked my wife and I to step outside. I remember kissing his crying distressed face and telling him everything was going to be okay. “I love you Bubbas” I whispered in his ear.
Sitting outside the room breaking down, my wife and I gave a sigh of relief as we heard the Respiratory Therapist say Micah was successfully intubated.
But then his heart rate dropped.
They pushed a bunch of meds trying to bring it back up, his little body couldn’t fight anymore. The doctor came out and said he couldn’t save our boy and wanted us to go say goodbye.
How could this be real?
How could our healthy baby boy come down with a fever and hours later die?
They never got to do a spinal tap, the blood culture showed nothing, his urine sample was clean, the nasal swab was negative for flu/RSV.
We never got answers.
The medical examiner chose not to take Micah’s case because they said there was a strong case of sepsis. We will never know what made Micah so sick so quickly.
Micah was the most chill and sweetest baby you could imagine. He always took whatever his rough and tumble twin sister threw at him, even in the womb. Every ultrasound she would be stretched out and he would be curled up in a little corner in the top right side of my belly. When they were newborns, we tried sleeping them in the same bassinet but that never worked out because his spicy sister would kick her legs at his head.
Micah loved to cuddle and would curl up into a little tree frog position on our chests to sleep, it’s always where he was most comfortable.
Micah knew nothing but love during the short 8 weeks we had on earth with him. We will forever miss our Micah Man, our little man, our Bubbas.
There will always be a missing piece, a hole in our hearts, the exact shape and size of Micah that nothing and no one could ever fill. He will be honored, remembered, and loved everyday.
Thank you, Chrissy and Ashleigh, for sharing Micah with us!
We had all but given up on having a child of our own. We had tried for seven years with no luck. We couldn’t afford advanced fertility help or adoption, so we decided to deal with our emotions and move forward with a childless life. Two years after this decision, we were shocked to find out that I was pregnant! We couldn’t believe our eyes.
With all we had gone through, I went into the pregnancy very cautiously. I was scared to get attached, but of course we know it’s near impossible not to. We passed the 12 week mark and like so many others, we celebrated that we were “in the clear”.
Each week brought us more anticipation and excitement. We decided to build a home and we started buying big and little items for the nursery.
At 24 weeks, we celebrated “viability”. We couldn’t believe how smoothly this was going. We even started our birthing classes and making friends with the other pregnant families in our class.
But something changed at 26 weeks. I felt off one day, but thought that was normal. The next day I became very aware that I hadn’t felt our son kicking at all. I went the whole work day pushing my fear aside and deciding that I was still not far along enough to feel him every day. (Google told me that, so it had to be true) Finally, by the end of the day, I couldn’t take it any more and my husband and I headed to the hospital to be checked.
The moment they put the ultrasound wand on my belly, I knew everything had changed. Where his heart was normally fluttering away, it was still. Even knowing this, hearing those dreaded words shattered our very souls.
There’s something so surreal and wrong about your child dying before they are even born. How is this a thing that even happens and to so many of us? No words can make this feel any less painful.
Our son, Beckett Grant Waters, was born 42 hours of labor later. His body was broken and battered, but he was absolutely beautiful.
We spent 24 hours with him, loving on him and reading stories. We finally had to let him go as his body was just not holding up and we wanted to have an autopsy done. The results revealed a brain hemorrhage stole our son from us.
We like to think of Beckett as our shooting star. Like a fierce flash of light, he came out of nowhere. He burned as brightly as he could and then he disappeared back into the dark night sky. And we are left breathless in the wake of his beautiful existence.
Before I tell the story of our baby boy’s arrival, I need to give some backstory. I was an insulin dependent type 1 diabetic for 23 years, in June of 2014, I received a clinical trial islet cell transplant. The transplant was a success, and by July of 2014 I was completely off of insulin. I traded insulin for immunosuppressant drugs – Imuran and Prograff. At 10 weeks pregnant, I was put back on insulin as a precaution to protect my growing baby and the islet cells. Due to my health history, I was considered a high risk pregnancy which meant more doctor visits and blood draws than normal. On January 10th, at 32 weeks and 1 day pregnant, I ended up in the hospital after some blood work came back “wonky”, the doctors suspected preeclampsia. After many blood draws and back and forth discussion between my transplant doctor and OBGYN team they decided that I had Prograff toxicity; the fix was as simple as lowering my dose.
Welcome to the world!
At 34 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I met my mom at my weekly ultrasound appointment (she was there to see her growing grandson). The ultrasound went great with no hiccups, he passed all the tests with flying colors. Afterwards, my mom and I were put into a different room to speak with the doctor. Due to my 5-day hospital stay 2 weeks prior, I was instructed to take my blood pressure 2 times a day and the doctor needed to review the numbers. She reviewed my blood pressure results and said that she would be right back. When she returned she told me that since my bottom number went above 90 on multiple occasions, recent bloodwork came back with an elevated kidney number and protein in my urine she was diagnosing me with preeclampsia with signs of severe features; as a result, she was going to have me go up to labor and delivery to get prepped to be induced. I called my husband and up to labor and delivery I went.
Some may have been scared at this point but I wasn’t. I was 100% ready to become a mom. I wasn’t scared about labor; I knew I was getting the epidural as soon as I was allowed to. Every part of me was excited! As the three of us waited in the labor suite, we talked about the arrival of our son. We all laughed at the fact that my actual due date was March 5th (3 days before my birthday), but due to being high risk I was scheduled to be induced on February 12th (1 day before my husband’s birthday) and here we were being induced to have a January baby!! We loved the idea of a January birthday. I didn’t have a baby shower yet, that was scheduled for February 8th, so we all thought it would be funny to keep his birth a secret from family and friends to surprise everyone at the shower. We joked around about the idea, the nurse who was in the room while I talked about it, laughed.
I was so happy.
I was given the first pill to begin inducing at 3:00 PM. I was also hooked up to magnesium due to the preeclampsia diagnosis; magnesium has a high fall and seizure risk so the nurse had to put in a catheter. Once that was in, I kept saying that I needed to go to the bathroom, everyone said just go… That was not the most pleasant experience. At some point, I sent my husband home so he could get some rest, my mom told him that she would call when it was getting close to ‘go time’. Throughout the night, I kept telling my mom I didn’t think I could do this, I was extremely thirsty and so very tired. Around 2 or 3 in the morning I rolled over to my right side, I heard what sounded like a rubber band snapping and felt a gush of water. I yelled over to my mom, I think my water broke or I pulled out the catheter. I told her to come over and check, she did and then went out to tell the nurse. I heard the nurse say “Oh wow that’s awesome”. Before I knew it a whole team was there to get me set up with the epidural. Once I got that I fell asleep.
In the early morning, I am not sure when my mom had called Albert to tell him he should head over. By 6 am, I was completely dilated and it was time to start pushing. During this part, I begged and begged for juice; I kept saying I had no energy to push, the doctor told one of the nurses she didn’t think it would cause any harm and to go get me some juice; she probably just wanted to shut me up.
On January 28th at 8:32am, our baby entered the world. The doctor couldn’t believe how big he was for a preemie, we would later find out that he was 5lbs, 15oz.
The nurses cleaned him up and wrapped him in a blanket. When they brought him over and placed him in my arms I was awe struck. I had no idea how much love I was going to have for that little boy. The feeling was out of this world; I was ecstatic to be holding our son. I wanted nothing more than to hold him forever. When the nurses came to take him to NICU they asked what his name was, at the same time Albert and I answered – Theodore. Our son’s full name is Theodore Edward Kon “Tek”. I had planned to call him Tek his whole life. That would be my nickname for him.
At just 6 days old our son was diagnosed with a condition called NEC. NEC is a very serious illness that claims 50% of infant lives. So much happened in the 4 days that our son had this illness. Things that I am not ready to put down in writing.
On February 8th at 3:30 am, my perfect Tek passed away in my arms. No matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I told him I loved him, our little boy couldn’t survive this devastating illness.
The further I get from this day the more I think –
Even with the same outcome, I would do it all over again. To be able to hold Tek one more time, to be able to tell him I love him again, to be able to sing him his song and to feel that happy; I would do it all over. I would do it again and again and again.
I went into labor at 23 weeks and 3 days. It was unexplained why. We rushed into the hospital, but they couldn’t stop him coming. He was already crowning by the time we got there. I pushed for what seemed like forever before he finally showed the world his face.
We fought for him.
I would have done anything. He had a brain bleed and blood sugar issues but they were never specific about what blood sugar problem it was. (Our hospital staff was HORRIBLE).
He had two blood transfusions before he passed. The first one everything went well and his stats were going up, but after the second one everything dropped.
They only gave us 1 whole minute to make a decision on if we should take him off of the ventilators and hold him while he goes or take extreme measure which would involve breaking his ribs.
We held him.
I still feel guilt over all of this and I still get nightmares from it. I’d do anything to have my baby boy with me today.
This was August 12th 2019 he lived for 25 hours and 13 minutes. He passed on August 13th 2019. His name was Rylen Connar Brooks.
March 17, 2014 was an exciting day for us. We were looking at a new apartment and we got that positive pregnancy test. I went to my family doctor to have our pregnancy confirmed and they did labwork and I would need to go back Monday morning to have labs drawn again.
Sunday night we were sitting watching tv and I went to the bathroom. There is was bright red blood. I was freaking out and knew something wasn’t right. I knew my OB was waiting for our lab tests the next day.
My husband tried his best to stay positiveand tell me everything was going to be okay. But deep down I knew something wasn’t right. Of course, I googled what was going on and everything I saw kept saying miscarriage. I was praying I would wake up with no bleeding the next morning but that wasn’t the case.
I got the labwork done and awaited the call from our family doctor. The bleeding had already picked up. Brandon went to work and kept checking on me through out the day.
That afternoon the dreaded phonecall that I was already expecting came. Our family doctor was very quiet and she apologized. She stated, “I was having a miscarriage”.
Right after I got off the phone with our family doctor, Brandon called. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I think I told him I lost the baby. The phone call and the the next couple hours are kinda blurry.
I remember Brandon coming home and knocking on the door. Brandon was crying that much he couldn’t get the door unlocked.
We remember that day March 24, 2014 and will never forget our little angel baby.
On December 1st, 2017 at our routine 20 week anatomy scan, we were dreaming of who Grace would grow up to be, who she would look like, and what hobbies she would love; a somber doctor then came into the room, told us to sit together, then we heard the unimaginable news:
“Your daughter’s prognosis is not good, her brain did not form like it should have at this point in the pregnancy. We do not have answers for you now, but we must refer you to a specialist to get more answers.”
At that point in time, our world stopped turning, all our hopes and dreams of our daughter were shattered and we did not know what the future held for her.
After seeing the specialist, Grace Cynthia was diagnosed with alobar holoprosencephaly, the most severe case of brain fusion (her brain was essentially one lobe instead of two). After additional testing to figure how why this is occurring, they determined that she was randomly missing a large portion of her Chromosome 7 with at least 300 genes, 6 of them labeled as “crucial for life.” This large genetic loss was affecting her brain formation, bone, muscles, lungs and heart and many other major organs and body parts. Not only was Grace fighting her brain condition, she was also fighting a larger mountain of genetic loss.
The next 20 weeks of the pregnancy we showed our daughter Grace, a “Life Full of Love” We treated every minute of her life as if it was the last loving her so, so much; taking her on trips and feeding her all of our favorite family foods! We lived day by day not knowing how long she would be with us.
Grace fought to meet her family and was born on Easter Sunday Morning, April 1st, 2018 weighing 3lbs, 6oz and 16 inches long. She had a head full of dark hair and long skinny fingers and toes. She stayed strong with us for about two hours, then she entered the loving arms of Jesus. During that short time here on earth she was baptized and got to meet her mommy, daddy, all 4 grandparents and her aunts and uncles.
Grace made a huge impact on a lot of people’s life and will always be so loved and missed by many.
Thank you for sharing Grace with us, Amelia and Dan!
Having a third baby was not a planned affair for us. We were scared, emotional, and praying for guidance on God’s plan for us. However, the first time I heard his heartbeat the unbreakable bond that a mother forms with her baby from the womb on came instantaneously. We started to plan our nursery, but decided to wait longer than usual to share our news. We were about 14 weeks along when we decided that Christmas would be the perfect time to let the world know that another little Fleischer was on its way! June started to become a very much anticipated month!
Over the holidays I volunteered at my older children’s schools, as I always do. Soon after I began to feel very ill. What was initially diagnosed as a respiratory infection quickly turned into massive joint pain and immobility. After talking with my mom I had to fight to get blood tests run on a very rare virus that even my OB blew off. It turns out I was right and I tested positive for the PARVO virus. I was very ill for several weeks and then the nightmare began.
Our son contracted the virus enutero. After a full month of monitoring with weekly scans and checks at MFM he continued to become sicker and sicker. In February I was hospitalized to have a cordocentesis and an inutero blood transfusion. The results were worse than expected. Our infant son’s hemoglobin levels were vitally low and because he was so tiny the transfusion was very difficult. After a last ditch effort, where they informed us he wouldn’t make it, miraculously hours later he was still fighting and we went home with hope and faith. The next day we returned for another scan and the MFM doctor just couldn’t believe our little Breccan bear was thriving!! We once again we went home with me on bedrest and two days later returned for another hopeful scan. I hadn’t felt much movement but, due to the trauma my little guy endured and the numbness from my procedure, I didn’t think much of it. We knew it was touch and go but chose to put it in God’s hands.
The scan proved to be our worst nightmare. Our Breccan had gone completely and utterly silent. On February 14th at 21wks gestation, I was induced and 15 hours later, on February 15th, 2017, our tiny, perfect, beautiful sleeping Breccan David Fleischer was born.
Our world was forever changed, I was crushed under the weight of this loss that left me feeling breathless. I had two other children that needed me and I had to carry on for them, but I didn’t know how.
It has been almost 3years now. Our family is still healing, each one of us has been changed. There is a hole that will never be filled, a void that goes deep. We live every day to honor him, say his name and find ways to keep his memory alive. He is my son, his name is Breccan David’s and my love for him surpasses all measure. I live with the hope that I will embrace him again, and this time I will never let him go.
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month and this was the exact month last year when we came to know that we were pregnant with our first baby. We were more than excited when we saw the positive result of a pregnancy test done in the bathroom of a Shoppersdrugmart, 30th October 2019 was the day, actually the night, when it was confirmed. It just took me a day to become your mom, who could give her life to give you life only if it was in my hands.
I had my first vomit the very next morning and told your aunt and grandma that we are expecting. The same day your dad and I went to my physician. She confirmed the pregnancy, but frightened us by saying that this may be an ectopic pregnancy as the ultrasound showed a mass near the ovary and the doctor handed us a letter saying that we urgently needed to go to ER.
I was all in tears, I was afraid to lose you, your dad was equally worried. We both wanted you to stay with us.
From the night of the 30th of October till 3 in the morning we were at the ER and were ensured that the pregnancy is in its right place. It’s intrauterine, not ectopic. That was a big relief for your parents.
They referred us to an early pregnancy clinic at Etobicoke General just to make sure everything went well. There we got to have an OB/GYN who was to monitor me. Before going to the clinic, I had some bleeding. Your dad took me to the ER.
That was the first time the ultrasound lady asked me “Did anyone tell you about a little heart?’’ That was at 6weeks, almost, and tears rolled down my cheeks thinking about you and your little heart beating inside my womb. You were doing great. Things were going fine, except for my worsening nausea and vomiting. The OB was giving me medications and then changing them again and again; but that was all in vain.
Again, I had some bleeding early in the morning and I was rushed to the hospital by my parents. I was scared to death and called your dad at the ER. I was so afraid that I was having a miscarriage. The doctors did an ultrasound and you were perfectly fine in there. We were relieved, but the nausea kept on worsening. I did have some spotting in December, as well, but the first trimester screening on 23rd of December made me so happy, as everything was fine. You were doing perfectly fine.
The new year was again really hard for us as I was having a fever of over 103 and had to stay at ER. I was given some IV fluids and decided to stay at my Mum’s. The medications for nausea, flu and fever turned my tongue really dark black. The metallic taste wasn’t going away. Eventually, I started feeling better. By the 12th of January, it was completely gone in the next two days.
Our anatomy scan was scheduled at 18 weeks. We were energetic and more than happy to welcome a baby in our family. The technician told us that we were having a boy and “he is a shameless boy as he really likes to show off”. He was moving around so much. We were so happy to see him moving. It was our first pregnancy and I hadn’t feel him moving even at that time. As soon as she did a transvaginal ultrasound, she handed us a letter to go to the hospital telling us that my cervix was too short. I didn’t know what it meant and asked her what happens if its short. She told me that I might lose my baby.
We headed to the hospital. The doctor did a physical exam and said its fine its not short so he prescribed progesterone suppositories. We took those medications for another three weeks, had our gender reveal. We had another scan, when the technician asked if had been told to be on bedrest, but no, I wasn’t.
Once again we were told to go to labour and delivery, where the doctor checked me and told me that my cervix was not short but that it was funneling. I was diagnosed with an incompetent cervix. We were told the membranes were hanging down and if we got a cerclage the water might break. However, if we didn’t get it, we were going to lose our baby.
We felt utterly helplessness in that moment, but decided to go for it. I underwent a surgery and the cerclage was done, but the bleeding never stopped. I told the doctor but was assured it would go away by the third day.
Little did I know that the third day would be even scarier.
Early in the morning on the third day when I was 21 weeks and 3days pregnant, sleeping in my bed, I felt a gush. I thought it was blood but my husband said its not blood and asked if I peed. I instantly said, “no my water broke”. I felt the baby kick and it was as if a ballon popped or if water rushes out of a hose and keeps on dripping until there is no more left.
We rushed to the hospital. They did some tests for making sure that my water broke despite seeing the soaking pads as this is the protocol for medical professionals. I was crying and screaming, my husband and my family were all shocked at what had just happened to us. My parents first grandchild, who they were preparing to welcome for the last 5 months, was now in danger. The doctor came in and told us the baby won’t survive if we delivered now. If I go into labour, there is nothing they can do to stop it, but if we decide to keep the pregnancy the baby might have permanent disabilities or could be perfectly fine too.
We decided to give our baby a chance. The doctor did an internal exam and said that the baby’s foot was in the birth canal. Upon a second exam the baby had retracted it back inside. I never went into labour and stayed at the same hospital for another two weeks till the baby hit viability i.e. 23 weeks. Then I was transferred to another hospital which had better facilities in case the baby was born too soon. I was on strict bed rest in the first hospital but it wasn’t that strict in the other hospital as I had to walk to the scanning room on the 5th day. After that I started feeling a weird restlessness.
I wasn’t going into labour but still I wasn’t able to sleep the whole night, as if something was about to happen. I told the nurses that I feel something was wrong as I was high risk . The doctors and nurses came rushing to see that the baby’s heart beat was missing at some points and a physical exam confirmed that the cord had prolapsed. The rest was like a scene from a horror movie, where all the alarms were set on including my own bed. Code white was being called and a doctor, with a hand in my vagina, sitting on the bed as my bed was being taken to the operation room.
I had never been in such a state and was crying to put me to sleep. They did a classical C-section on Friday the 13th of March as they had only 5 minutes to take him out alive. When I woke up, I saw my husband by my side. I was crying, as I felt like I had failed as a mom. I took all the injections, IVs, steroid shots, but still my baby didn’t get to stay in my womb till he was safe to come to this world.
My husband told me our baby was fine and that he held his finger too. I was worried about his foot and he told me our baby’s feet and everything were perfect. I was on morphine the entire day and wasn’t able to see him. I just saw the pictures. The next morning I took my first steps as Muaaz Ahmad’s mom and went to see him on a wheelchair. He was in the NICU, the tiniest baby I have ever seen was my own baby but he felt so big to me. He was like a full sized baby to me. He was moving his legs and was trying to grab the breathing tubes to take them off, as if they were really irritating.
I was crying. I felt my son was in so much pain. My beautiful baby covered up in wires and those beeping sounds. I never thought this would be us sitting here with our baby. I told him how much I loved him, said some prayers for him, and sing some prayers too. He was so active. The nurses said he was doing much better than they expected him to do.
The next day I went to see him again in a wheelchair. This time I touched his feet, whispered “I love you”, and he was moving a lot. We were so happy to see him holding our fingers. That evening I was discharged from the hospital. Early the next morning on the 16th of March, I was back at the NICU. I thought we were taking him to an even better hospital. He would be fine. When my husband took my wheelchair through the elevators to NICU, he was crying. He was not replying when I asked, “are we taking Muaaz to Sickkids?”. When we reached his room, the doctor came in and told us that Muaaz had a bowel perforation and his blood count was dropping, despite giving him blood. They believed was a brain hemorrhage.
They called the other hospital to check if they could do anything, but they are not able to help him. He was too tiny and wouldn’t make it. He could’ve stayed on the ventilator as long as we wanted, but he was in pain, so he was given medication to put him to sleep. I saw him moving every time I saw him; but that day he was still, no movement in his legs, no moving hands, and no holding fingers anymore.
This was the time when I held him in my lap, nurses holding his machines, while my father blessed him. I sang him some prayers and cried out loud. I told him I loved him and will always love him. His ventilator was taken off at 8 in the morning and he was gone within 5minutes, taking a part of my soul and heart with him.
We were lucky enough to see his presence around us ,but unlucky to an extent that we didn’t get to bring our baby home. Others cannot see him, but he is with us always in our hearts and mind. He will always be loved and remembered.
After his demise, I was hospitalized for another 5 days and given blood transfusions to make my health stable. I wasn’t willing to live without him and had promised to be with him.
I am still struggling to keep moving on while carrying your memory and love with me.
He is our first born, our first baby to hold in our hands and he will always be. Mummy and Daddy love you, Muaaz!
Waking up out of a deep sleep, I grabbed my phone and started typing. I couldn’t type fast enough, it was as though my sweet boy was whispering the words into my ear.
I found my way to Heaven, please don’t you be alarmed.
I found my way to Heaven, I’m up here in God’s arms.
I found my way to Heaven, please wipe your tears away.
I found my way to Heaven, where we will meet again one day.
I found my way to Heaven, please don’t you have any fears.
I found my way to Heaven, where I will watch over you the rest of your years.
I found my way to Heaven, sending love your way.
I found my way to Heaven, I’m sorry I could not stay.
Our pregnancy was an emotional rollercoaster ride. In the early weeks of our 2nd Trimester we were given the test results to our panorama screening. I’ll never forget hearing the doctor say, “High Risk 50% chance for Trisomy 13.” It felt as though the wind literally got knocked out of me, I couldn’t breathe. So many questions rushed through my head but I couldn’t talk, I just cried. We were told Trisomy 13 is a fatal chromosomal abnormality and our child had a one in two chance of having it. I could see the sadness in my husband ’s eyes and it broke my heart even more.
The next few months included weekly doctor appointments, ultrasounds, five unsuccessful amniocentesis procedures, multiple tests, prayers, tears, and no clear answers. Each doctor having a different opinion on our baby’s health, each opinion contradicting the other. After weeks of receiving unclear answers we sought care at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.
It was a long day full of painful tests and at the end of it we were given the news we had dreaded, our little boy was really, really sick. Thank God for my husband who held it together for the both of us, I went into shock and heard nothing past, “The likelihood of him surviving birth is low. If he survives, he would most likely never leave the hospital.” I cried out asking if our baby was suffering, they assured us that he wasn’t.
Two weeks and four days after that appointment on Friday, May 4th, 2018 at 2:54pm, our beautiful Logan was born.
It’s been two years and five months since I held him in my arms, since I rubbed my fingers across his sweet little face, since I kissed his little cheek and whispered “I love you” to him. My heart aches so much for him every single day.
I can still smell him.
I can still feel the weight of him on my chest.
I can still feel his soft skin under my finger tips.
I can still feel him.
I carried a lot of guilt in my heart since the day we found out that our baby boy was sick, those feelings worsened on the day he was born. I couldn’t do anything to save him, I couldn’t protect him, and then I had to leave him behind in a cold hospital room, alone. Often times I would wake up wondering if he was okay, if he was sad, if seeing me sad made him sad, the guilt worsening as time passed.
Our Logan sends me signs all of the time letting me know he is okay and that he is with us. The morning I jumped out of bed and wrote those words down I knew that he was telling me that he was happy and safe, in God’s arms.
God has blessed our lives with our sweet Logan and not a day goes by that I don’t thank him for our little blessing. I miss our Logan every single minute of every single day, the heartache can be debilitating at times. I know he hears my prayers, I know he is always here with us, and I know he handpicked his baby sister and sent her to us.
I love you so incredibly much Logan. Mommy will hold you again in my arms one day.
The surgery I had didn’t go well at all. The doctor took way too long, which increased the risk of serious complications. I was awake, it was very painful and my after care was neglected. I couldn’t and still can’t believe it. We trusted him with the life our my boys…Unfortunately my identical twin triplets, Silas(baby A) and Cearus(baby B) passed away in mid May. I didn’t want to deal with talking about it with everyone because I didn’t have in me, and I’m still having trouble handling it. Even typing this I can’t help but cry. I loved my boys so much, and this has broken me in ways I never thought possible…This loss wasn’t a miscarriage, Silas and Caerus were stillborn. I am thankful the hospital allowed us to see our boys, and gave us the chance to say our goodbyes before their cremation. It hasn’t been easy, but we are hanging in there for the sake of our surviving triplet and Maggie. Our boys will forever be loved, and will never be forgotten.
RIP Silas Ramon Borgan + Caerus Christopher Borgan