Yesterday we went to my doctor for a follow-up check up. It was hard going back to the place where it all happened. Before turning to the hospital lobby the feeling of dread was already overpowering. I couldn't believe we were back there again. Every step towards our doctor's office reminded us of the memory of our harrowing moment. This was the place were we lost our son. Our precious gift that was taken away from us just 19 days ago.
We braved entering Dra. Chua's office hoping to get everything over with as fast as we can. Sadly, even with an appointment we had to wait it out for 45 minutes before it was our turn. When the assistant took my vitals it was evident I was stressed when my blood pressure recorded 152/95 the first try and 139/92 the second time. I am not usually a hypertensive person.
When my name was called by Dra. we dragged ourselves into the office, apprehensive to see her for the first time after our hospital discharge. She immediately asked how I was, how we were. She considerately asked if everything was okay on my part. I forced a smile and just said, "No." She couldn't say anything more but "I understand."
When she did an examination she said that I am healing really well "physically." That my stitches are beautiful and well taken care of. I am healthy. Everything is technically in order. Thanks to my dedicated nurse, Jhon.
But not everything is okay. After she finished giving us further prescriptions, she asked if there is anything more she can do for us, if not, she will see us in a month. I could not stop myself from speaking up and started to ask her questions. More questions that have been hanging in my head for weeks. I asked her why this could've happened to our son when my best friend from New York had the same experience and she and her baby got through it. I told her that I believe she did everything by the book, I researched on it. I trusted her decisions. I just needed to hear what her assumptions were on why my baby did not survive his battle. Why did that happen to him? I am still looking for answers why.
She could only assume based on the information provided by the neo-natal pediatrician. I asked her if it was possible for our Marcus to have survived it even if one of his lungs collapsed. She said, "Yes if they got to remove the air from his lung."
"They did surgery on him. They also gave him manual CPR. But he wasn't responding to treatment Dra. Corpus said. He was slowly deteriorating," Jhon contributed.
"There are a few factors. One is the development of his lungs as I mentioned to you before. Another could be infection, pneumonia, although we were giving you antibiotics. I was really surprised when he started to have complications. When I delivered him, he was pink not blue, he was healthy, you heard him cry. When I visited him at the nursery he was doing well. The only contraption on him was the oxygen mask," she explained with a heavy heart.
All I could think of was 'Why?' Why my little baby boy? Did we do everything we can to save him? I can't help but blame myself. That night still seems like a blur to me. I am still confused. Everything happened so fast. I did not know what was going on. When they brought me to the nursery I was not sure if Marcus was still alive. Was he fighting for his life? Was there still hope? What else could I have done for him? Did I choose the best doctor for him? Should I have told the doctor not to give up? Should I have told the nurse not to stop pumping his oxygen? Should I have whispered to Marcus "fight" instead of saying goodbye? Should I have held him longer in my arms so he could've felt my warmth, and maybe, he would've responded? I would've given my life for him. If only I could turn back time!
Didn't we pray enough for God to grant us a miracle?
I still can't accept the fact that he is gone. I can't fool myself and say that I am okay. My heart is so broken. My soul is crushed. I still do not want to move on! I find refuge in the pain. I cannot move on... I miss him so much! I should be breast feeding him now, carrying him in my arms. Oh just to hear him cry. I will never forget his beautiful, angelic voice... Very soft, very gentle. And what I would give just to see him open his eyes and see him look at me. To see the color of his eyes...
Mama misses you terribly, my baby Marcus! Tears never stop...
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