Reliving My Worst Nightmare Part 2
Lance died when I birthed him through emergency CS. He was Twin B, with 720 g birth weight. He had to be revived for five minutes before he finally took his first breath. He and his twin brother, Andrei were born at 26 weeks AOG (age of gestation). Both had premature organs. They were injected with a surfactant agent for their lungs to expand. Their hearts were injected with paracetamol, so that the hole in the arterial duct would close. They were under a strong antibiotic therapy because of their recurring sepsis. They were injected with diuretics, so that their kidneys would produce urine. Andrei responded to each treatment. But Lance didn’t. His kidneys never produced any urine. And his heart stopped beating because of high potassium levels in his blood.
The night before his death, I stayed overnight at the hospital, even though I was not allowed inside the NICU. I found a small spot outside the room, where I spent praying the rosary in between rests. Then, a man approached me and interrupted my prayer. He said that he was a Christian born-again, and that I should not pray the repetitive prayer and that I should stop praying to Mama Mary. I was being courteous to him, but I really find his actions rude and offensive. He should not impose his beliefs on me. I’m a devout Catholic, and therefore, he must respect my right to practice my religious belief. I got annoyed with him, my desire to finish my prayers died down as how can I be in a solemn state of prayer when I was in reality, fuming inside? For him, he won. For me, the devil’s work won. I just cried myself to sleep.
That morning, my partner (the twin’s father), MG went to see me in the hospital. We had a fight that weekend, because after 9 days of staying every night at the hospital, since the birth of the twins, I decided to go home, post on social media to ask for financial help from my network, and take the bed for 2 straight nights. He thought that I was just itchy to get on Facebook as the data signal at the hospital was weak. We had a heated argument that ended in a 2-day silent treatment. So that fateful morning, he came to see me and make amends. We had lunch at a buffet restaurant near the hospital. But just as we started with our lunch, we received a message that Lance was in a bad state and was being revived.
I rushed to the hospital, MG settled the bill and followed short after, We were then allowed inside the NICU, ad I saw the medical team reviving Lance. His frail chest was bruised from the pressing, hints of blood came out from his eyes and ears. I couldn’t bear the sight. The nurse handed me the Stop Resuscitation Form, for me to check all the medical steps that they were supposed to stop. But I couldn’t find the strength to tick the checklist and sign. MG took the form from me, as I was sobbing and couldn’t control myself. The nurse told me to let go. Lance was suffering, and to stop that, I must let go. My nurse self wanted to, but my mother self couldn’t. It was just unthinkable and unbearable. I wish it was me that they needed releasing, and not my poor child, Lance. I am as emotional and uncontrollably sobbing as I am typing this part. For how can one parent let go of a child?
After they declared Lance to be dead, they took off all the tubes from the apparatuses and machines that were connected to his body. They took him out from the incubator, and for the first time, I was able to hold Lance in my arms. My poor baby had his first hug when he was already dead!
It took me hours before I could compose myself. I have to remain strong for Andrei. After we arranged for Lance’ cremation (his body would be taken by the funeral home the following day), we attended to Andrei, then decided to go home for the night. At home, I couldn’t sleep, knowing that my dead baby was in a morgue, together with dead adult strangers. I prayed to God that he’d send my dead family to watch over or be with Lance. I know it might sound dumb to some, but that night, it seemed right.
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