Grief: The Soul-Cry Of A Grieving Mother (Part 2)


Dear all, thanks a lot for all your kind words to Mrs M as she deals with this great loss. Here’s the second installment of her story which was sent in last week:

Yesterday, was one of the toughest days yet. It’s a Wednesday. The Wednesday. For a while all Wednesdays will be received with dread. I kept replaying the events of that day.

My husband had slept with him in the hospital on Tuesday night because he had to give him blood. I took our daughter home so she could prepare for school the next day.

Wednesday.
At past 7am, I had dropped her off in school heading to the hospital. Got there 9:30am. Found him cranky. Brought his favorite toys to make him happy. He tried to calm down but you could see he was defiantly in pain. I wish I could take that pain away. His chest was still swelling. Worse than the previous day. We waited for a scan that took forever. I had to go give a shouting match before my baby was attended to. This was now noon. He tried to smile at me. There is this thing we do. I can’t describe in writing. We make funny noises moving our tummies. He would do it and wait for me to respond. He tried to do it twice. You could see the pain. He stopped. I had hope that my baby would get better.

As from 8:30pm, the story changed and my life was forever to change with it. His oxygen level had dropped. The amazing thing was the so called doctors had no clue. My husband was the one that found out. Imagine an engineer doing the job of a doctor. They got him an oxygen mask that was not working. My baby was struggling. In so much pain. I was helpless. Until the doctor decided it was time for the surgery. I carried him off his bed so he could receive the little comfort I could give. It helped. Mum is holding me. All will be well.

At past 9pm. My life took a nose dive. He was dying and there was nothing I could about it. He died in my arms. The arms that carried him when he came into this cruel world held him while he died.

The doctor ran like rats looking for people to help with CPR. Imagine that. A hospital as big as that. Unbelievable. They had to go to another department to get the machine to revive my boy. They struggled for over an hour.

My husband and I prayed all the prayers we know. We sang, we had faith, we believed. My husband was called out. I knew something was wrong. I saw the doctors coming out shaking their heads. No-one would tell me anything. I was scared. Very scared. My husband came back and told me he was declared dead. My baby? Dead? No. Not possible. He was in my arms an hour ago. I asked to see him. I had heard of mothers that held their dead babies and they came back to life. I wanted the same to happen to me. I wanted it so badly. I went into the room where he was. It was a mess. Needles and all sorts where on the bed. A pool of bloody liquid was on the bed. His nose was running. There was a little trace if blood in his right ear. His eyes were closed. My husband told me later he shut them. He looked so peaceful. He did not look dead. So I carried him. He was warm with a slight air of cool on his skin cause the AC was on. I wrapped my arms around him. Placed him on my chest. I spoke into his ear. I asked him to remember the pain I went through during his birth. I asked him to remember all the times we shared. I asked him to see the pain I was in now and come back. We sat there for a while and nothing happened. My husband said we should leave him there that God would visit him. We would be back in the morning he promised.

I put him down on his baby bed. Covered him up to his chest with the duvet so he won’t get cold. Promised him, gave him my word. I would be back tomorrow. I was lifeless. My baby was alive. Brought alive to this place and now he was there alone without me. I could not come to terms with it. I did not sleep all through the night. I could not wait to see him again.

Morning came and I kept asking my husband when we would go. He kept saying later. My baby needed me. He needed to eat and take a bath. He needed mummy. I needed him. I still need him. Everyday. I never saw him that day. My husband left to see him. My head told me he was going to bring back our boy. He never did. It’s not possible. Can’t be possible. My son, my king. The King can’t be gone. Is he really? Is he gone? Yesterday was one of the worse days. Maybe today will be better.

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