Samuel's Last Hours

I'm staring at the computer screen, not knowing how to write this entry or if any of you will want to read it. But for my own sake, I need to record how Samuel passed away.

Bryan's step-mom, Kathy, his brother, Erik, and his sister, Marta, all arrived in town the night before Samuel died. All of us were able to spend some time at Samuel's bedside that night. Samuel was looking really bad at that point, and because his stats had dropped when we tried to clean his little face, he was looking worse -- crusty stuff on his lips, bloody tape on his face, etc. We weren't excited about the family seeing him like that. To our surprise, when we got back in after shift change, Samuel was all cleaned up. Kim, our night nurse, had done an amazing job creating a peacful ambiance in our little dock. I don't know how she managed to clean Samuel without him plummeting, but she did. The tape on his face was all clean, the blankets were all neatly tucked around him, the lights were dim, lullaby hymn music was playing softly, and his stuffed animals were all lotioned so that there was at least a presence of clean smells. It was a little blessing that felt really big. Again, I felt so cared for.

Erik and Marta took the night shift, and Kim promised to call me if Samuel even started to trend downward, so we could be sure we were there when he passed away. So, Bryan and I went to the sleep pod and climbed in one of the twin cots together like we had done for the last 8 nights. Though every night was cramped with both of us in one twin cot, we needed each other, and it was too sad to sleep in different beds when we were so burdened and broken.

We got up at 5:45 as usual and headed back to the CICU. It was the first morning I walked the long hallway to Samuel without knots in my stomach. Since Kim had promised a phonecall, I felt really peaceful that I was not going to walk into a panicky situation. When we got there, Samuel's stats were pretty similar to when we'd headed to bed, and Erik and Marta left to get some sleep. As they were leaving, Samuel's blood oxygenation began to go down, and I got the report on the latest blood gas -- quite poor.

A doctor and PA came in to talk to us and said that they were between a rock and a hard place -- Samuel couldn't sustain life with his current blood gas results, but they couldn't treat the problem either because he needed higher ventilation settings, and that put him at great risk for a hole in his lungs which he wouldn't survive. They told us that if we left during shift change, they could not guarantee he would still be alive when we came back.

So, we asked them to put Samuel in our arms. He stayed hooked up to all the machines (without them he would have survived only minutes) and medicines, and I held him. We sang many songs, prayed, told him how precious he was, and talked about God, Jesus, Heaven, and who was waiting for him there. At shift change, Kim came in and told Samuel goodbye and that she loved him, and our RT, Suzie, gave him a kiss and told him she loved him too. And then Richard came on for the day shift. I couldn't have asked for better people to be with us. Having Kim, who had really blessed us 3 nights in a row, be there to hand us Samuel and then dear Richard was what I had hoped and prayed for.

After about 40 minutes in my arms, Bryan got to hold Samuel for about an hour, and then I held him again for the last hour of his life. He got lots of love in those hours, and though it wasn't nearly enough to fill in the month of not being able to hold him, it was a deep blessing and a time we will treasure in our hearts for all of our days. We stayed with Samuel for a long time after he passed away, but it was so evident to me that he was gone -- that the baby before us was an empty shell and the true Samuel was alive and well, celebrating in Heaven with his Maker.

Richard and Mary Beth (another nurse we love) gently cleaned up Samuel's body and removed all the tape, lines, etc and dressed him. He had never worn clothes before, and it was strange to see him in them. When I looked at Samuel without all the tape on his face and tubes in his nose, etc, I saw just how sick he was and how uncomfortable he must have been. In those moments, it was easier to rejoice in his death because I could so clearly see how much better off he is now.

Though I did not want to lose my son, I am thankful for the way in which it came to pass. The Lord graciously allowed it to happen when we were there from the start of the decline on, when the two nurses I felt most at ease with were on duty, when it was quieter on the floor because it was early morning and then shift change -- with no other parents around, when it was dark and rainy out and Samuel didn't look so sick as in the light of the sun, and when Bryan and I could have extended time holding our precious baby. And, not least of all, the Lord spared us from having to decide whether or not to remove care. He took Samuel home before we had to cross that road, and for that I am truly grateful.

I don't know what to do with the fact that God answered all my little requests but did not answer my big one. I am thankful for His faithfulness in the small things, and I continue to trust that He is good and loving. He is my comfort in this new day without Samuel. But I don't know why God didn't save the day and heal my son. I will probably never know. What I do know is this: what God asks of me is my trust in Him, my continued faith, my obedience to Him, and my heart. He wants me to come to Him in the dark times and continue to proclaim His goodness (He IS good!), and He wants me to love Him. Those things I will seek to do with all my heart, but I know on some days it will be harder to do than on others. I know I can rest in His unchanging grace, and I know on the harder days, He can handle my sorrow, anger, and lack of faith. I will strive to authentically walk this road of grief before me and let God, who did not heal Samuel's heart, now heal mine.