The Unthinkable

Picture the face of a baby boy. A boy with chubby cheeks puffing up from a huge smile and sparkling blue eyes that look into your eyes as you enter the room. A perfect, previous little face that suddenly lifts his right eyebrow ever so slightly as he lights up even further as his lips part revealing an even bigger smile. A look that tells you clearly, I know you. A look that shouts "I am so very glad to see you and I sure do love you a lot." And sometimes he even sighs in such a way as though he is now content and at rest because you are there.

Let me introduce you to Andrew, my five month old son, my tiny, little blessing from God.

Andrew arrived in December a week before Christmas. Our little miracle. You see, Andrew was born 7 weeks early weighing in at five and a half pounds and 18 inches in length. He looked like a little dolly to me as I could place his entire head in the palm of my hand and his fingers were as small as some of the dolls I played with as a little girl. His little eyes would peek open at me and I would nestle him closely to my breast feeling like a feather in my arms.

I didn't get to see my precious wonder for 12 hours after that wonderful moment I got to say hello to him in the operating room. I had had a C-section and had to be able to walk a certain distance on my own before they would let me go to him. With great determination, I fought to get up and at 4 am was rewarded with my first moments of holding this tiny soul tenderly in my arms. Without any need for assistance in breathing, Andrew gained strength quickly and was discharged in an amazing 3 weeks from birth. Life was good. Our family was whole and Andrew grew and prospered as though he were a full-term baby.

It is June 3rd. And I sit at home struggling to sleep as my three oldest boys slumber in their beds while nine miles away, my husband sits in another ICU watching over Andrew who is lying in a larger hospital crib being kept alive by machines.

What happened you may ask? Well the unthinkable - our precious "little squirt", as we call him, fell about 2 - 3 feet yesterday. We don't know how. A freak accident it seems. My husband found his fragile little body face down on the floor not breathing. Naturally my husband began CPR and called 911. The paramedics arrived in a matter of minutes and continued working on him faithfully for 40 more minutes. Dazed, confused, scared and reeling with questions, I arrived at the ER in a police car that came to my work to take me to my son.

A social worker warned me that she didn't want me to be shocked but Andrew was being worked on by a team of professionals. And then I saw him. My precious little wonder was surrounded by at least 10 medical personnel and most notably a tall, tanned man who was keeping my son alive with the compressions of his hands. I thought I was going to faint. I thought that this couldn't be happening to my little special, as I call him. They asked if I wanted to be in the room and immediately I walked towards his lifeless frame and reached out to gently stroke his shoulder. Choking back the emotion, I managed to say, "Hello Andrew. Mommy's here and I love you so much."

For the next hour, I stayed by his side assuring him of my presence, love, affection and will to see him open his precious eyes, look into mine and smile with the bond of love he felt for me. I was there as they struggled to get the breathing tube in. I was there when they fought to find a vein to put his IV into and I was there when they found his little pulse as he slightly squeezed the index finger I had placed in his precious hand. It was all so surreal. The doctors, paramedics and nurses feverishly worked on saving his life. They were heroic and determined and diligent to get him stabilized so that he could be moved to the intensive care unit.

We're almost 36 hours after the event occurred. Andrew lies in a crib with a nurse watching him 24 hours a day as my husband and I take turns being by Andrew's side. He's asleep due to the drugs that keep him in that state as his body is suspended at about 92 degrees. Tomorrow, they will do another CAT scan to determine if the brain has swelled further and, if so, how much more and then they intend to slowly raise his body temperature by 3 degrees while they remove his medicine. Andrew will be given an opportunity to awaken from this sudden slumber. And I will be there to hold his hand and assure him that everything will be alright. Because you know what? Everything will be alright because nothing will ever change the fact that we love our Andrew and his brothers no matter where any of us are and that more than that, God loves us even more. And our God knows exactly what is happening. It's because of this, everything will be alright.

Good night my little blessing Andrew!