A LETTER
TO JACKSON
I wish I could hold
you in my arms as I begin to tell the tale of your short, precious
life. Daily I ask myself, where have you gone? Are you happy? Are
you crawling around and playing with all of the other little souls
who were also in a hurry to leave Earth? Are there angels caring
for you, holding you, hugging you and celebrating your milestones
with you, instead of Daddy and I?
I believe that angels
have been with you since the day you were born. The 22nd
of October 2001 was the day you made me a Mummy and James a Daddy.
You were so tiny and so beautiful, a perfect little boy weighing
1.57 kilograms. I sensed within my heart that as you slept your
first day of life away in your humidicrib a little angel flew into
the room and landed on your bed. There she decided to sit, watching
you and protecting you from harm.
“Why are you here?”
I would ask her, but she’d never answer me. She would simply rearrange
her pretty wings and continue to look at you attentively. There
she’d sit day and night, only moving out of the way for the busy
medical staff caring for you.
The days passed on
and I was discharged from hospital when you were six days old. I
remember leaving the maternity ward that day thinking about you
and my new responsibilities. I needed to get myself into a routine
where I could keep a home, express milk, spend time with you and
recover from a caesarean section all at the same time.
On Tuesday the 30th
of October I made my way to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).
I was so excited to be visiting you during the day. Imagine my surprise
when I approached your crib and saw two angels sitting down watching
you. The nurse on duty distracted me for a moment asking me if I
would like to give you a tube-feed. I nodded in reply smiling and
sat down on the feeding chair. You were lowered into my arms and
opened your eyes briefly as I kissed you and began to slowly inject
milk into your tube. A doctor approached and knelt before us. He
began to explain how he had detected a heart murmur while doing
a routine check-up that morning. I stared at you, my beautiful son
as he continued to explain what this could possibly mean. His words
rushed in and out of my head. “I’ll be in touch,” I remember him
saying as he finally walked away.
I finished feeding
you, whispered how much I loved you in your ear and the nurse put
you gently into your crib again. I looked at the angel and her new
friend. They moved closer to you and one of them gently brushed
your cheek. I tried to push her away with my hand, but it seemed
to go right through her.
“Leave my Jackson
alone,” I wanted to say to them but it was then I realised that
they weren’t the enemy. They were on our side.
Later that day it
was confirmed that you had complex congenital heart disease. Things
really started to go crazy now. All of a sudden doctors were talking
to Daddy and I about open heart surgery to redesign your heart and
transferring you to The New Children’s Hospital at Westmead. How
could this be happening to us? It just didn’t seem possible- you
looked so healthy and so perfect.
A few days later,
on the 1st of November your transfer took place (two
days before your Daddy’s birthday). Daddy and I watched the medical
team as they prepared you for your journey in the ambulance and
we weren’t the only ones. Those same two little angels were waiting
in your new portable crib for you to join them. They had worried
expressions on their tiny little faces until you joined them, then
they relaxed a little.
You seemed to settle
into your new home quite well. Each evening Daddy and I would drive
along the M2 Freeway with the esky of milk balancing on the back
seat. We would be so excited and full of hope upon entering the
NIC Unit. Would you be asleep? Or would those big, blue eyes be
open, searching the room?
The specialist’s
at the hospital had devised a plan for you. They would be putting
you on a respirator to help you breathe, so you would conserve all
of your energy for growing and gaining weight. The goal was for
you to reach between 2-2.5 kilograms so you, my darling had quite
a task ahead of you.
Over the weeks that
passed Daddy and I rode the highs and lows with you. We’d sigh with
relief when the nurses would tell us that you had gained a few grams.
We were so proud when you graduated from a humidicrib to an open-air
crib. It was around this time in early December that you began to
blossom into a beautiful little boy. Your skin turned a lovely creamy
colour, golden glints appeared in your hair, your eyelashes grew
longer and your eyes were so blue I could lose myself in them. Daddy
and I took so many photos of you at this stage of your life. The
doctors told us you were doing well; surgery would not be far off.
Your two little winged
friends continued their 24 hour bedside vigil, always sitting in
their same little spot- on a shelf above your little crib. I decorated
your area with photos of Daddy and I and some of your toys. I also
bought you a Winnie-the-pooh suitcase and packed it with your own
clothes, dummies and wraps. There it would sit on the portable shelf
near your medication monitors.
By mid December you
had reached the ideal weight for surgery, but the specialists decided
to wait a few more weeks. They wanted to be sure that your general
health was the best it could be, as some recent chest x-rays had
revealed some patches of mucus in your lungs. “That’s ok, as it
would give you a chance to put on even more weight!” Daddy and I
agreed.
The days passed and
mid December turned to late. I celebrated my birthday with you and
Christmas passed. Unfortunately, your chest x-rays weren’t improving.
“Why are there more
angels near your crib now?” I wondered to myself. They seemed to
be multiplying in numbers daily. Some days there would be more and
some days less. At certain times they would be completely surrounding
you, watching and waiting as you slept- waiting for what?
It was early January
when it became clear that your health was declining. Doctors confirmed
that you had developed Chronic Lung Disease as a result of being
on the respirator for too long. The operation was no longer viable,
Daddy and I were told. The medical team asked us to consider a time
to withdraw life support. I cannot express in writing how Daddy
and I felt this day and those that followed, so I won’t.
After a lot of soul-searching,
Daddy and I chose Monday the 7th of January 2002. You
had entered this world on a Monday and now you would also leave
it on a Monday. As we held you in our arms that day the angels sat
with us in droves. There were so many beautiful colours and kind
faces surrounding us. They were smiling at you, beckoning you to
join them, which you did at exactly 1o’clock that afternoon. When
you left they left also. Daddy and I felt so alone as we were forced
to see a future without you.
I’m sure that the
angels took you to a special place to rest with all of the other
little children. May you truly rest in peace. Thank you Jackson
for coming into our lives and for giving Daddy and I the chance
to feel the love a parent has for their child. You were the best
Embi.
May we all meet again
some day,
Love always
Mummy and Daddy
