I remember

Even though this last year has been a blur the last few days with Beckett are clear as day. Little man, I remember every detail, even ones I wish I could forget. I only hope that you felt no pain and only remember the happy days with us!


I remember:

• a year ago today holding you almost all day, trying to get you to sleep and keep your fever down

• putting you in your swing for the last time, only to have you throw up all over it...then look up at me and smile with relief

• giving you your last bath at home before putting on your cute red PJs

• crying because I was so exhausted after no sleep for a couple of days and wishing you would just get better

• taking you to your dad’s baseball game so we both could get some fresh air only to have you vomit as soon as I took you out of your car seat

• calling my mom to come get us and take us to the hospital because I knew something wasn’t right

• waiting in that horrible ER for someone to treat you, only to be ignored for hours while another man with a canker sore was treated before you were

• the nurse, Laura K and her fake contact lenses telling me that no IV was ordered an hour after it should have been

• when asking for Tylenol for your fever being told by Laura that you probably didn’t have a fever, but were most likely warm from the blanket I had on you – she never did check his temp

• the Dr. telling me it is likely just a cold and swollen glands that were preventing your head from turning, but not ordering any tests to confirm

• the paediatric nurses faces when they saw the state you were in and that nothing had been done

• the little girl across the hall from you in the ER that was there with her grandmother because her teenage mom couldn’t deal with it

• being admitted only to be told that you would need a spinal tap to check for meningitis

• your screams while the spinal tap was happening

• calling my mom from the other room asking what the outcome of having meningitis would be for you and knowing that she was lying to me

• holding you all night in the single bed while your dad lay in a chair beside us

• knowing that something else was going on when morning came and those big beautiful eyes of yours would no longer meet mine

• carrying you for the last time... downstairs to get a CAT scan

• seeing the nurse come out of the CAT Scan and the way she looked at the floor avoiding any eye contact with us...we knew that it wasn’t good

• having the doctor come out and call us into a side room to discuss what they found and how they would have to transfer you immediately to McMaster Children’s Hospital

• sitting in the hallway of the hospital waiting for them to prepare you for transfer while trying to stop your seizures

• seeing many new mothers being wheeled by us all happy after just giving birth to their new babies

• having the ambulance attendant ask me what is wrong with the baby they were waiting to transport

• leaving the hospital, empty car seat in hand to meet you at McMaster

• running all over the hospital trying to find where they were taking you only to meet you on your little stretcher in the hallway

• the barrage of Dr.s questioning us about where you had been, what you had eaten, who you had been in contact with. Only to be told that they have “never seen anything like this before”

• going to see you with all the tubes in your little body where the nurse told us you were stable, in no more pain

• being told we should go home and rest that the tomorrow would be a tough day with lots of tests and we needed as much rest as possible

• asking the nurse if you were hers would you leave

• deciding that you were ok, didn’t know we were there and that we would go home for a few hours rest

• get home in a daze only to be called a couple of hours later to be told “he has taken a turn for the worst”

• grabbing a photo album of your recent pictures to take to the hospital so the nurses and Dr.s would see what a happy baby you are and how much we needed them to save you

• walking into the hospital doors only to see them doing CPR on your little body – letting out a loud scream

• having the Dr. rush us out to the hallway where they explained they were doing everything they could, but that it happened so quickly

• being allowed to go back into the room to hold you for your last few breaths while they turned off the breathing machine

• you were so bloated from all the fluids I didn’t want to hold you...but daddy did

• we sat there with you, for what felt like hours kissing you and telling you we loved you

• our family coming to say goodbye

• being handed a memory box with a lock of your hair and a frame with your hand and foot print, but leaving without you!

This year has been impossible for us and I can only predict how tomorrow and the rest of our lives will be without you. Love you and miss you more than you can imagine.