His birth wasn't easy... I was rushed to the hospital because I hadn't felt him move throughout the day, at the hospital they said he was suffering fetal distress and they performed an emergency C-section. I actually don't remember much, I just know it was almost midnight, they put me on a bed, started rushing me, I saw his father standing there looking at me hopelessly, helpless and scared. I had never seen him scared before, not like that.
I was crying, they asked me a few questions and I was out... I woke up in extreme pain, confused, my body hurt like never before and I had no idea what happened to my baby. I started searching from him. I tried to get up and they held me down. I asked for my baby, is he dead? A male nurse said what? Nooo, he's good. Strong and noisy. I smiled, fell back asleep.
Woke in pain again, this time they had me move to another bed and I was in the worst pain of my life, somehow I managed to finally do it and went to my recovery room. I woke up alone and confused. Eventually my partner showed up and said the baby was sick, I said sick? what do you mean sick? He said, he is connected to a bunch of machines and things, they say he is sick... I didn't understand, I had a perfect pregnancy, I wasn't high risk, I had energy, no weird symptoms, what could have went wrong? I tried to go see him but I wasn't allowed, that hurt me so much. I actually saw him the next day.
I worked through the pain which was unbearable, but I have this thing that whenever it's for my kids, no pain ever holds me back, so I managed to no only walk, but walk fast and I finally saw him. I was so happy, he was beautiful! A little miracle baby!
I thought he was perfect, although the doctors did not give me any hope and pointed out so many things that were wrong with him, to me he was just perfect! So what if his head is a bit big? What if his skin is a bit funny looking? He would be ok! Or so I thought...
The next few days we saw great improvement and we were so excited! We were able to finally hold him, he didn't need as many meds and breathing tubes, he was doing good! Then we noticed he had a silent cry, I thought maybe he's mute, but I heard him cry twice, so i figured he would snap out of it eventually... Then he wouldn't eat, then he started shrinking. Then one day we saw him and he looked bloated, pale and unresponsive. They said he had an infection... We looked for a pastor and went to bless him and the most wonderful thing happened! As the pastor prayed with us, both of us had our fingers in his little hands, as the pastor said Amen, Jr squeezed our fingers! Whaaat? I was in shock, it's like he was communicating with us, assuring us he would be Ok.
Unfortunately his condition worsened but I still had faith; I was worried, but I had some faith, but things didn't look too good... He would never recover... He stopped breathing several times, his organs continued to deteriorate, he wasn't able to eat properly. But I was there everyday, I was the first in line everyday, I would get there 2 or 3 hours early just to be first in line. I would sleep on corners, the nurses and guards knew me by name. I was there with much hope no matter what but I was ready for whatever.
56 days of life, on the 55th day he gave me so much hope, he looked so big, he looked me straight in the eyes, he smiled at me, things he had never done. I left there smiling hard, I believed my baby was coming home soon. I went home and started getting some things ready and out of boxes, I was positive that this boy was coming home soon.
The next day I visited him as usual and he didn't look too good, but we would have days like those, he would be good one day, bad the next. I was getting used to it while never losing hope. Later in the evening my phone rang and as it did I just knew. I didn't recognize the number and I just knew something was wrong... They said he wasn't going to make it through the night. I started shaking, running around the house, called my mom to stay with the kids. Called his father who was almost home from work and we rushed to the hospital. It was the longest ride ever. He stopped by the corner and I just jumped out of the car and ran to see my son, there he was, stable but his mouth full of blood. He had a lung hemorrhage, he was heavily medicated but bloody and weak.
I asked what were the chances of surviving and they said little to none. I prayed with him, sang to him, kissed him and within an hour he started bleeding out again, fading away fast. I asked to hold him... I just couldn't let him die on that cold bed... I held him tight as I sang and cried until I felt his last breath.
I still see it fresh in my mind.
My life after all of this has changed... This experience made me a better person, it shook me to the core. I decided that I could no longer live below my potential, I decided to live because my son died to teach me, to change me, to help me grow. I'm no longer angry all the time. I'm more aware of other people's problems. I'm no longer selfish. I'm at peace.
I knew I did all that I could, I know I gave it my all and that God used this to bring me to a place where I would have to make life changing decisions. I finally know who I am and what I want and how I want it.
My son's legacy is my life, this person who I am today is all thanks to him being in my life. My son's legacy is love, acceptance, understanding. When tragedy strikes you have to options, be consumed by it or to be uplifted. I chose the latter. Death is such a harsh word, I think my son has been elevated to a higher state. It's hard to see him as a helpless little baby cause he fought hard, he communicated with me at the right times. He told me it's ok. He gave me one hour before he went away, he let me have my moment with him And I'm so thankful for that. My little lion is a fighter, he is my inspiration, he brought me back to life!
To my beautiful son Patrick Jr.
I love you, thank you for choosing and loving me! ♥
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