My life must continue....

Nov 1st 2013 we had a viewing for Angelo. We made big poster boards filled with pictures of our Angel. He was only with us for 16 days, but we had PLENTY of pictures! We chose to get our son cremated and keep his ashes to be buried with us. We have a memorial shelf in our room dedicated to him, with his urn in the middle. After Angelo passed we couldn't live in our house any longer, it was too painful and Daddy was laid off the week before Angelo's birth. We moved in with my parents an hour and a half away. I was a stay at home mommy up until this point. 

After moving Daddy and me both got jobs. I was promoted within 6 months and moved to a different location. Daddy got a better paying job, and we moved in with some friends. It was July and we still did not have a death certificate or cause of death for our angel. What was taking so long? I called all the time and was told it wasn't finished yet. Finally after a long wait, at the end of July we were told that they had no cause of death for us.

It is now almost a year later and we still have no death certificate for our baby. His brother talks about him often. Daddy, doesn't talk about it, and I have developed Panic Disorder. Mother's Day was the first time I had ever had a panic attack, and I thought I was dying. 

My Nightmare Continues...

The doctors at the hospital have told us that an autopsy was mandatory. Had they thought that there was foul play? How could they think such a thing, I love my son. I will gladly take his place, so that he goes on to have a long long life. I just didn't understand, it was all just too much to take in, at one moment in life. My baby boy would get a virtual autopsy, the next morning.

My parents were asking the doctor questions. There were many questions and answers flying around me. Not many of which I remember today. Although, one question in particular that I still remember, clear as day. "What do you think was the cause of death?" I look up at the doctor, still in this chair in the middle of the room. The very same place,  I watched the doctors trying to save my son. It was another one of those moments, there were just so many of them on that day. A moment that seemed as if someone was holding the remote to life and decided to press pause, afraid to hear the answer.

Our eyes were locked, and she finally said with a hurt look in her eyes. "We think it was accidental suffocation." No one said anything after the answer reluctantly came slowly from her mouth. Heads in the room seemed to drop to look at the tile floor. I was searching her eyes, I somehow knew this answer but why must she have to say it out loud. My mind was going a hundred miles an hour in todays slow lane of life. Asking questions to myself.

Why didn't I bottle feed? I just had to insist on breast feeding because I couldn't breastfeed with my first son. Maybe that was a sign, that I shouldn't ever do it. Why did I fall asleep? Why didn't I wake up Daddy to help me? What was the last thing I said to my son? Did he suffer? These are still question I hear myself reciting today. We went back to my parents house after crying over my son, laying so peacefully in front of us. It was an empty, numb, indescribable feeling the whole drive.

We were an hour and a half away from home, but with all of our friends and family. My oldest son was on his way to me. I needed him there, his father understood me ending their weekend early. We just weren't sure how to explain where his beloved little brother was. We weren't even sure if he would understand, after all he was only 4.

The day my world ended.

October 26, 2013 is the day my whole world came crashing down around me. I was rushed to the hospital in the ambulance with Angelo, while Daddy was left at home to wait for a phone call. I was in my pajamas with no shoes vaguely listening to the man next to me, telling me to slow my breathing. We got to the hospital in what felt like a lifetime. I was escorted over to the registration area and then told I needed to wait in the waiting room. I picked up the phone and called Daddy to tell him where we were. He was on his way a few minutes later. A nurse came in and told me that I was needed in the room now. 

Walking back to the room, all of the nurses and doctors were hovered around one room and staring in my direction. What was happening with my baby?  There were about ten people in the room around him. They put a hospital chair in the middle of the room for me to sit in, so I could see Angelo. He had tubes down his throat and they were manually pumping air into his lungs. A doctor came to my side talking to me telling me what was going on. She said that they had already tried to restart his heart 4 times. They were going to give him one more dose of epinephrine, if he didn't respond they were going to have to pronounce him dead.

She went on to tell me that even if he did respond, he wouldn't have much of a life since his brain had been without oxygen for so long. There would be brain damage and he wouldn't be able to do much on his own later in life. "Who is this woman to tell me these things? I will be there to take care of my son, brain damage or not. Brian damage was the last thing I cared about with my baby laying there, I just wanted him alive, breathing, crying. Oh, God how I would do anything to hear that beautiful cry." While they injected the last dose of epinephrine, I felt myself stop breathing and start thinking "Come on baby breathe, Mommy is right here, breathe Angelo breathe. God, please help my baby breathe." 

Nurses started backing away and looking at the clock while leaving the room. Soon there was only a few left compared to the hoard of them swarming around my son when I walked in. The woman next to me said "I am so sorry, there is nothing else we can do. Would you like to hold him?" Of course I want to hold him, maybe he just needs his mothers touch. I've read stories where babies miraculously get better with a mothers warm loving touch.  A mother going through some thing like this will try and think anything for her child to be okay.

He was still so warm and I hugged and kissed him and cried telling him how sorry Mommy was, and how I never ever meant to hurt him and I love him more than anyone in this world could imagine. Daddy came running into the room with diaper bag, purse, baby blanket, shoes for Mommy, and all I could mutter was "He is gone baby, he is gone." Everything Daddy was holding fell to the ground and Daddy's face turned blank. He didn't cry or say a word he just stared while I sat in that hospital chair holding our precious son. He couldn't even bring himself to hold him.

The woman who had been speaking in my ear through this whole ordeal asked if there was anyone she could call for us. She made a few calls, and the call to my mother was the hardest. Thoughts of "I need my mother right away!" to thoughts of "If I would have just stayed there last night, and what is she going to think of me falling asleep while feeding." When my parents arrived at the hospital I could here my mothers footsteps down the hall, I knew that sound and I knew it was her. I looked towards the door as she burst through and grabbed me crying "I am so sorry!".

Angelo's Story

I am hoping to start a blog for mommies who lost their little angels. I have scoured the internet and just can not find anything that satisfies me as a mother who has lost a child.

This is my story, and Angelo Michael is my angel:

I had a great pregnancy, with a planned C-section. We picked out our theme, our theme was Simba! Juicy Cantaloupe was the color for his walls.  His father spent hours in the august heat painting his room, with no air conditioning. He was up there so long, when I went upstairs to check on him, he was painting in the nude! Needless to say I thought I would give birth right there on the floor, I was laughing so hard. The next day, he put the Simba decals on the wall. Mommy was not aloud to partake in this event, it was a Daddy thing. We got a tall metal shelf and painted it a pistachio green to match our theme, but we didn't want it to blend in with the walls. Enough ranting about Daddy's beautiful work, here are some pictures.

                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We went to the hospital 6:00AM on October 10th 2013. My C-section was scheduled for 7:30AM. Angelo was born at 8:22AM he was 7lbs 13ounces and was 20.5 inches long. We even got to go home one day early since mommy and baby were in tip top shape. We went to his check up the day after we left the hospital. Angelo never got to sleep in his crib, he slept next to mommy in his bouncer. 

On October 25th, we drove an hour and a half (our first big outing) to drop Angelo's big brother J.J off at his fathers house. We stopped by to see Mommy and Daddy's family, it was a long day and we couldn't wait to get home and settle down. Grandma begged us to stay overnight, with it being so late she was worried about our long drive. We insisted all would be fine, we just wanted to be in our own home. It was a cold night and the heat in our car wasn't working, so we stopped off at Wal-Mart to grab a few things, and warm up inside. Before leaving I fed Angelo, and then bundled him up in his car seat. 

We were finally home and Angelo was ready for another feeding. We turned on Netflix and spent some time watching shows and cuddling on the couch. Mommy and Daddy were ready for bed after a few shows, it was 3AM after all. We went upstairs with everything needed for the night, which is quite a bit for an infant. We were so tired after being used to going to bed between 9 and 10 every night, 3AM was like being up for ages. We got all settled in bed and Angelo started crying. Mommy picked him up and nursed him, he fell asleep 20 minutes into the feeding and Mommy laid him back down. 

A few hours later Angelo was up again and Mommy was feeding him. I was so tired, I had trouble staying awake. I woke up a few minutes after falling asleep, and wiped Angelo's mouth. Once doing this I realized he was not breathing. I started screaming incoherently towards Daddy, and he was up dialing 911. This is the morning our life shattered in to little pieces, and our nightmare began. All I could do was say "I am so sorry that I fell asleep, it was all my fault". 

ANGELO MICHAEL

                                                               10/10/13 ~ 10/26/13