Doug had to leave for work early the next morning so we had told the nurses that we would be back early to see Logan. Around 4:30am the NICU called us. They said that they wanted to prepare us because they had changed Logan's ventilator to a bigger one and his color was slightly gray because his oxygen saturation levels were low. Doug and I decided to go on to the hospital.
When we got there Doug noticed that his eyes were open and I think I knew right then that he was saying goodbye. We stood over him for a few minutes and then the nurse practitioner took us aside to explain what was going on. They told us that Logan wasn't getting enough oxygen and that they were making plans to possibly transfer him to another hospital that had a different kind of ventilator. They then showed us to a room where we could sit and talk. Doug decided not to go to work and I layed down because I was worn out. We called my parents and asked them to bring me some clothes (I was wearing my sweatpants) and the breast pump so that I would have them if we went to the other hospital.
Then the nurse practitioner came in. She told us that Logan was deteriorating quickly and that we needed to go in. She warned us that the nurses were performing chest compressions. It is all like a big fog to me really. I remember walking into the NICU and going over to Logan. Doug was standing behind me and I reached out to touch him. The nurses were talking and the machines were beeping but it was like I was underwater. I couldn't really hear anything. Until the nurses asked me if I wanted to hold him. I said yes and they got us two chairs. I sat down and they handed me my precious little boy. Doug and I were both crying and I didn't want to let Logan go but I handed him to Doug and Logan breathed his last.
The nurses told us we could go to the room and they would unhook Logan from all of the wires. They brought him to us all wrapped up and we sat holding him for quite sometime. It was a crazy morning and eventually we left with Logan to make the drive to Troy to the funeral home.
When I look back, the moments immediately prior to Logan's death were very peaceful. I knew he was going to heaven and that he would be okay. The hardest part for me was standing by Doug when he called his parents to tell them. I can remember his words and the look on his face like it happened 2 seconds ago. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment.
And then came the anger. I was mad at God, that he took my baby. I was mad at the chaplain, that he didn't come sooner. I was just plain mad. And I coped by planning: for the funeral, the cemetary, the stone.
I remember feeling like I should have said something. Like I should have yelled at the nurses to keep Logan alive or yelled at Logan to keep fighting. But I didn't say anything. Then at the funeral and the cemetary I wanted to rip open the coffin and just pull him out. I wanted to scream at everyone to leave me alone.
The past year has been hard. But we've made it and we're stronger for it. Yesterday at church we read the story of Amos who was called by God to deliver a message and then rejected by the people of Israel.
12 Amos answered Amaziah, "I was no prophet, nor have I belonged to a company of prophets; I was a shepherd and a dresser of sycamores. 15 The LORD took me from following the flock, and said to me, Go, prophesy to my people Israel.The priest talked about realizing the mission God is giving us and that we have to be open to it, even if we don't think we want it. I cried all through his sermon. I felt myself thinking "I don't want this God". I don't want to be the woman whose baby died. I don't want to be the one to comfort other women because I've been in their shoes. I don't want to be making these bears to help other mothers of angels. Because I want my son here.
But that's not God's plan. This is the mission He has given me and I just have to do the best with what I've been given.
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