After our traumatic trip to the ER last week plus the traumatic drug reaction that brought me as close to psychotic as I ever want to be, I'm feeling the loss.
This time 12 years ago Bren was very very sick. He tried to die several times but my female Christian friends came to sit deathwatch with me. Six women who cared so much for Brennan and me. Brennan refused to die.
I wasn't ready to let him go quite yet. I literally willed that kid to live. He slept on my chest, sitting up on the couch, every night. I had a double receiving blanket under his head because he drooled incessantly. The poor dear was unable to swallow. He was also unable to keep his mouth closed. The part of his brain that controlled those things was damaged. He was not paralyzed but had very little voluntary movement.
He would lie his head on my chest, listening to my heart that kept beating despite my pain. He would whimper when not comfortable and hum when I sang to him or played his lullaby tape(by Micheal Card). I would sing and talk to him until I was sure he slept. Then I would sleep right there, sitting up, feeling his small heart still beating.
He was on an oximeter to measure how much oxygen he was getting. He was being fed through an NG tube 18 hours a day. He needed to be suctioned out because he could not rid himself of mucus. This became a routine part of the day. I also gave him his medication through a porta-cath on schedule. He was on a med that was every 4 hours for awhile and I set the alarm to get up to do it.
He slept on my chest every night for the last three weeks of his life. I would catch naps when the home pediatric nurse was there. I did not want to be away from him because I knew soon he would be gone forever.
My poor little boy who never had a chance at life. Who would never grow up to drive me nuts as a 7th grader(where he'd be now). He never got to even crawl. He did not know what he missed. He took comfort in Geo, my women friends who loved to hold him, the noises he could hear from his brothers and from me. We were one in a way that is impossible to describe.
I miss him. I miss him as a baby. I miss him as he would have been the last 12 years if he had been healthy. I just miss him. I pray we will meet again in heaven one day.