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!".