January 26, 2006 I was told by a pediatric cardiologist that my unborn baby boy had severe heart defects. I was devastated, destroyed even by this revelation. Looking back, eight years later, at that broken mother sobbing uncontrollably in that office, I can't help but to wonder what I would say to her. If I could write down all that she would learn and endure to help ease her pain. If I could warn her that the life she knew was forever gone but what was to replace it was some thing magical and wonderful.

This is her story.  

In the Spring of 2005, my husband and I were in the process of purchasing a new home. Every thing that could go wrong with the loan process did. I was worried that we wouldn't be able to purchase it and desperation was setting in. The house was a little too small for our two sons, but I dreamed of adding on to the house using my own hands. During my married life, I was usually the main source of income. I missed a lot of my sons' childhoods because I was always at work. The house was affordable and I could stay at home with my boys.

I found an advertisement for a local psychic fair and I couldn't help but to go. I actually felt compelled to go. As I drove to the fair, I felt a nervous kind of energy I had never felt before. I couldn't understand why I was feeling the way I was. This visit was just to be a fun kind of way to reassure me that I would indeed get the home I needed.

I walked into the large room that held small tables with people of all types sitting quietly. I paid my fee and was told to pick a psychic that "stuck out". I scanned the room until my eyes fell on an unassuming woman who was quietly working on her needlepoint. I walked up to her and greeted her and she smiled as she directed me to the chair opposite of her. As I settled into a comfortable position in the chair, the medium closed her eyes. All of a sudden, I felt a sort of electricity in my body that seemed to connect me to this woman. It made me uncomfortable and I tried to stop it but I couldn't. She opened her eyes and looked at me sympathetically.

"Has your grandmother passed?" The medium asked me. I couldn't speak because I was too preoccupied with the feeling of being pulled to her. I nodded yes to her.

"She is standing beside you. She says she is sorry that she wasn't in your life. She said she is sorry you have felt so badly about this. It was not you. It had nothing to do with you. She felt that she had to make a decision and she couldn't turn her back on her family. Does this make sense to you?" The medium asked. I muttered a quiet yes. I was very young when my father and mother divorced. It was quite a volatile marriage and divorce. I eventually lost my father and his entire family. Growing up, I felt abandoned by my family. What was wrong with me that my own grandmother didn't want anything to do with me? As I grew older, I felt resentment and anger towards my grandparents.

"She wants you to know that she is always with your children. Do you mind, if I let her brag about them? Your oldest son is into sports. She says he looks just like your family with fair skin and blue eyes. Your youngest son? She says he's too beautiful to be a boy. He is wise beyond his years and he takes himself too seriously, even though he is still just a baby." The medium continued talking as I realized I was crying. It was crazy what I was feeling. Moments of my childhood started playing in my head. They weren't my memories, but scenes of my grandmother crying for her grandbabies. A feeling of sadness for my grandmother washed over me. How horrible would it be for a woman who's identity was her children and grandchildren, to have to say good bye to them.

"You are terribly sad and alone. The depth of your emptiness and loneliness is almost unbearable for me to experience." The medium quietly spoke. "You feel no one truly loves you. You have been used and discarded. You feel you have never belonged. I wish I could tell you that you are never alone, that you are loved. There is a soul with you always. You two have been together for many lifetimes. They didn't come into this world with you because they didn't need to learn any lessons in this lifetime. It hurts this soul that you feel so alone that they will come into this lifetime as your child." 

"Having a child is not possible. Many doctors have told me I can't conceive." I told her. I had so many feelings and thoughts in my head that I couldn't focus on really anything.

"You have two other children. Did the doctors tell you that you would never conceive them? I'm just trying to tell you that you will indeed become pregnant within the next couple of months with a soul that is only coming into this world to be with you. I know how this all sounds, but I am not trying to mislead you or tell you untruths. I know your marriage is awful. I know you feel trapped. Having another child would be hard for you and the soul knows this. Take your time and think about all I have said. If you chose not to have another child, use precautions. Do not worry that you are rejecting the soul from entering this world. They understand. They just want you to see what you came into this world for." The medium told me as she smiled.

A faint bell rung to signify my time was over with the medium. I stood up and thanked her when I realized I never got an answer on whether I would get the house or not. I turned around quickly and asked her if I would get the house I wanted. She told me that she saw me signing papers, which meant I would be moving in soon.

I drove home thinking of my grandmother. It surprised me that I couldn't remember the last time I had actually thought of her. The only memory I had of her was when I was three or fours years old. My mother slowly gained a lot of weight and she was more moody than usual. One morning, I woke to find my mother gone and her mother had replaced her in the kitchen.

"Your mother went to the hospital to have the baby. I am going to stay here with you and your brother and sisters until she comes back." My mother's mother told me coldly. I knew she didn't want to be there and I certainly didn't want her there.

This arrangement didn't last long and soon, my mother's mother went into a meltdown yelling that "you kids" were driving her crazy. My father's father arrived to pick me up. I ran into my grandmother's house to find her pulling stuff out of her cupboards to start baking. Her face lit up when she saw me and her strong, loving hug was exactly what I needed. We spent the day baking. I would help periodically, but I rather enjoy watching her create perfect cookies with ease. She calmed my fears and talked to me about my new baby brother and she explained why my mother never told me she was going to have another baby or why she never told me goodbye.

A few years later, my father left and eventually so did my grandmother, along with my cousins, aunts and uncles. There were no good byes, no holidays, no love. I always assumed it was because of me that they vanished. It wasn't until my teen years that the sadness was replaced with resentment and anger.

A couple of years ago, my father, half drunk and feeling vulnerable explained why my grandmother and family disappeared. My mother and father's divorce went on for years. Their main mission in life was to punish each other in any way they could. One day, my mother visited my grandmother and tried to convince her of what a monster her son was. My father didn't tell me the details, I think maybe he didn't even know. What he did tell me was that my grandmother went off on my mother. She stood up for her son and told my mother to stop. I'm sure this sent my mother into a maniac episode and she informed my grandmother that she would never see her grandchildren ever again. Afterwards, my father went to visit my grandmother. He said she was crying and very emotional. She screamed at my father that she lost her babies and it was his fault and she would never forgive him.

I didn't realize it until much later, but that meeting with the medium started my healing process for my grandmother. Although, I didn't know the whole story, I was able to let go of my negative feelings for my grandmother and replaced them with thoughts of gratitude that she watched over my sons.

A couple of days after my meeting with the medium, I was informed that the loan was finally finished and we would soon be moving into our new house. My days quickly turned into days of contentment. I was able to be a full-time mom to my boys and I rediscovered my love of gardening and housekeeping. One day, as I was making homemade jams, I thought of what the medium said regarding a soul that was willing to come into this world as my baby. Every time I thought of this soul, I would try to brush it from my mind. My marriage was not a happy one, in fact, I spent most of my time trying to avoid him. The thoughts would pop up of how wonderful it would be to have a baby and not have to leave him/her. I was the main provider financially when I gave birth to my two boys. My maternity leave was only four weeks and I cried every time I had to leave them.

September of that year, I sent my oldest son off to school and took a pregnancy test. I excitedly called a gynecologist to set up an appointment for my new pregnancy.

I went to my first doctor appointment still in a daze that I could actually be pregnant. The nurse requested an urine sample and I patiently waited for the doctor to come into the room. The doctor walked in looking at my new file.

"Your test showed you are indeed pregnant. I see you didn't write down the date of your last menstrual cycle." The doctor told me as she finally looked up at me.

"I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I only have a few periods a year and I honestly couldn't tell you when I had one last." I informed her.

She told me that her ultrasound technician was available and she wanted me to get an ultrasound to see how far along I was in the pregnancy. I followed her to a dark room and laid on the table to allow the technician to show me my new baby. I was excited, waiting to see a little skeleton dancing around like I did my two boys, but all there was was a black circle. The doctor instructed me to get dressed and join her in her office.

"Judging by your ultrasound, I suspect your fetus is not viable." She said calmly without an sign of emotion.

"Not viable? What does that mean?" I asked as my voice cracked. I knew what she was saying but I didn't even want to fathom that.

"Your fetus shows no signs of life. The reason could be that you are only a few weeks pregnant but I believe you will soon have a miscarriage. I want you to get an appointment to come back in two weeks and we will do another ultrasound. If you start bleeding before then, call my office and come in right away." As she spoke, I went into my own world. I scanned her office. It was cluttered with a sleeping bag and pillow on the floor in the corner. A little voice in my head whispered that I shouldn't take this woman seriously, after all she slept on the floor of her office.

I drove home crying and angry. How could someone talk about my baby dying so coldly. To that doctor, I was just another patient. The next day, I called around and set up another appointment with another doctor.

I went to the next appointment a few weeks later. I was nervous waiting for the new doctor. What if she told me the same thing? How would I survive a miscarriage? The new doctor walked in with a huge smile and welcoming disposition. As tears filled my eyes, I told her what the other doctor said. She looked at me puzzled and finally interrupted me.

"Would you mind laying down on the table?" She asked as she pulled out a small box with what looked like a microphone out of her pocket. She placed the microphone on my stomach and instantly we both heard a heartbeat.

"Well that solves that dilemma! That Momma, is your baby's heartbeat. Now let's get you on some vitamins and set up another appointment in a month. Do you have any questions? I see you have two boys so you are a pro at this." She said as she laughed.

I started showing quickly, which was surprising to me. I was very active and I watched what I ate. But to my dismay, I had a belly that overlapped my jeans. By the time I went back to see the doctor, I had resorted to wearing maternity pants. The doctor was a little surprised that I was showing as much as I was. I saw concern in her eyes but she brushed it off telling me that my blood work miscalculated my due date. She told me to set up an appointment to get an ultrasound done. I was told at the front desk that it was a busy time for them and I wouldn't be able to get an ultrasound done until after Christmas. I wasn't worried that some thing was wrong. I was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to tell my family at Christmas if I was having a boy or girl.

It's funny in a way that I remember certain dates, when normally I can barely remember birth dates. December twenty eighth came and I laid on the table to see my baby finally. Almost instantly, the technician went from friendly and talkative to quiet with her eyes glued to her screen. I tried to brush off the fear that was trying to consume me by focusing on my baby. I knew he was a boy. I've seen enough ultrasound pictures of little boys showing off their "little friend".

The technician finished up and tried to smile as she told me to get dressed. As I waited for the doctor to come into the room, the fear consumed me.

"Your due date hasn't changed. The reason you are so large is because you have a condition that is making you produce too much amniotic fluid. The problem with this is your body thinks you are further along in your pregnancy than you really are and you may go into premature labor. We found another problem. Umbilical cords have three strands in it, two arteries and one vein. Your umbilical cord only has one artery and one vein. That could mean that your baby has some sort of heart defect. You will have to go see a pediatric cardiologist. The thing is due to your amniotic fluid condition, you are now considered a high risk pregnancy and you need a doctor that specializes in high risk pregnancies. I have already called a doctor that took care of my own high risk pregnancy a few years ago. He is very good at what he does and you will like him. I'm sorry I can't see you through this as your doctor, but I am here for you if you ever need me." She said as she hugged me.

By the time I returned home, I was a mess. Up until that doctor visit, I was in Heaven dreaming of my perfect little baby and being able to stay home with him. Now all I had was fear and worry. My insurance company had recently sent me information on a nurse help line they provided for free. The letter was sitting on my kitchen table unopened. I opened it and called the telephone number. I spoke to a nurse and informed her what the doctor had said about the possibility of going into premature labor. I didn't say anything about the umbilical cord because I brushed it from my mind for some reason. The nurse told me what I should expect and what could be done if in fact I did go into labor. She calmed me and I was able to let some of my worry go.

A couple of days later, I went to visit my new doctor. He was quiet and kind. After my examination, he and I sat in his office to discuss his plan of action.

"As you know, your biggest concern is premature labor. I want you to come in twice a week for a stress test. This will help us keep an eye on any contractions you may develop. There are many things we can do if you do go into labor to stop it. I will do every thing I can to ensure you deliver a healthy baby boy." He told me as he smiled and for the first time in quite a while, I finally was able to breathe.

I started immediately receiving stress tests. My son, Mario loved going with me. He would hold the button and watch my stomach excitedly. When my baby would kick, I would tell Mario to press the button. He would laugh when he could see the baby kicking my stomach.

January 26, 2006 came around. It was the day of my appointment with the pediatric cardiologist. I almost cancelled the appointment. I looked as if I was in full term, even though I had five months left of my pregnancy. I was exhausted and it took a lot to get around. I had never heard of a baby having heart defects. I couldn't even imagine that my baby had them. The only reason I went was because I knew my doctor would give me a hard time about not going. I reluctantly bundled my four year old up and drove to the appointment.

I was the last appointment of the day and I didn't have to wait long for the nurse to retrieve me and direct me into the ultrasound room. The nurse turned on a television in the room to occupy Mario. The cardiologist entered the room. She smiled slightly and introduced herself. She sat down beside me and placed the wand on my stomach. Thinking this was a waste of time and I would soon be able to take Mario home, I turned to watch the movie with Mario. Soon, I realized that this ultrasound was taking a long time. I looked over to the cardiologist to see if she was almost done. Her face was glued to the screen and she was focused on taking pictures. I started to worry, but the fact that I was starting to get physically uncomfortable from laying on the table took over my thoughts. She finally finished and helped me sit up. I tried to read her face to get some kind of information, but her face was blank as she lead me and Mario into the empty waiting room. Mario ran to play with the toys, happy he was out of the dark room. The receptionist was sitting at her desk, looking at us. She and I made eye contact and I smiled at her apologetically because I knew the ultrasound took a long time and she was ready to go home. The receptionship quickly looked away from me which puzzled me. Was she upset with me for preventing her from leaving? The cardiologist sitting beside me drawing a picture of a heart caught my eye.

"Your baby has heart defects." The cardiologist said as she continued drawing the heart. "He is missing the pulmonary artery that goes from the heart to the lungs. He can survive in the womb without this because he doesn't breathe oxygen in the womb. He also has a hole in the lower wall separating the chambers of his heart. And he is missing the pulmonary valve." As she talked, she would cross out what he didn't have on the diagram of the heart. I couldn't grasp what she was telling me. It all seemed like a huge nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. I was in total disbelief. A voice in my head was screaming for me not to believe what she was saying. I looked over to Mario and wanted to just grab him and run away.

"It is common for this particular heart defect to be linked to some sort of syndrome or chromosome disorder. I suggest that you have an amino to rule out a syndrome called DeGeorge. If your baby has this syndrome, his quality of life will be nonexistent." She said as she finally looked up at me.

The room started to spin and my vision became blurry. The doctor's words of quality of life being nonexistent kept repeating in my head. My lungs felt as if they were filling full of fluid which caused me to start to hyperventilate. I tried to stand up but my large belly and weak legs made it impossible.

"I have to get out of here. Please just let me leave. I can't breathe, please just let me get some air." I told her as a dam of tears and violent sobs escaped me.

"I know this is a lot to take. I'm sorry I have to tell you this. I don't think you should drive. Please let me call someone." She said as she helped me out of the chair.

"There is no one to call. I am it. Please just let me leave. This is all so crazy." I begged as I waddled over to Mario to help him with his coat.

"We need to talk more. Take a few days to regroup. I have a team of cardiac doctors. We can help your baby. I would like you to come up to the Children's' hospital and meet with us." She said firmly as I grabbed the map of the hospital from her hand.  

I buckled Mario into his car seat and squeezed behind the steering wheel. This is unreal. A hospital just for children? Cardiologists for babies? It was so unfair and surreal. I sat there sobbing, trying to breathe, grasping to wake up from the nightmare.

"Oh my gosh! Why are you crying? I want to go home!" Mario yelled from the backseat. I couldn't help but chuckle. He was always an old man trapped in a little boy. This made me calm down enough to start the car and head home.

The next few days are a blur. I don't know how I survived it all mentally. I believe eventually, I just went on autopilot. The meeting at the children's' hospital came up and I asked my husband to drive me there. He worked nights and he was upset that he wouldn't get much sleep if he took me to the meeting.

We arrived at the hospital parking garage and started our way to the cardiology department. The hospital was huge with walls covered with bright colors and pictures. It seemed like it took an eternity to reach the cardiology office and my body ached to sit down and yet, I was afraid to walk through the door.

We sat down with a group of doctors around a large table. They took turns introducing themselves. I held my breathe as the one cardiologist started to speak.

"I'm sorry to have to meet you like this. I just want to begin by telling you that your baby is in good hands. We have discussed your situation and we know we can help. As you know, your baby is in no danger while he is in your womb. The only problem we face is keeping him in there for as long as possible. We have talked to your doctor also and he is on board with our plan of action. You will deliver your baby via a scheduled C-section. At that time, Dr. Smith, whom you met, will take over. She will stabilize him and as soon as he is strong enough, our surgeon will go in and place a shunt called a B-T shunt. He will go in from your son's back, right below his right shoulder blade. The shunt is like an artificial artery that he will connect from your son's artery in his shoulder to his lungs. We will wait until he is a little older and stronger and then perform an open heart surgery to replace the shunt, place a valve and close the hole in his lower chamber wall. He will come out with a bluish tint to his skin, which he will keep until we can finalize his repairs. It is up to you, but we suggest that you have an amino done to rule out any chromosomal disorders." The cardiologist stated confidently. I looked over to Dr. Smith and wondered if she was waiting for me to freak out as I did in her waiting room a few days earlier.

"Will he be able to play sports?" My husband asked. I looked at him amazed. The disgust I always had for him intensified with that question. He was a jock in high school and he pushed my oldest son, Bruno into sports. I knew he didn't really care what these doctors were saying. All he cared about was could his son be normal in his eyes.

I was numb, somewhat in a daze. I sat there quietly listening to the doctors plan what they were going to do to my baby. They were going to cut him. What kind of life was my baby going to be born into?

The meeting was over and Dr. Smith volunteered to give us a tour of where my baby would stay when he was transported here. We walked through endless hallways and doors. I was shown the NICU, neonatal intensive care unit, where he would stay as a baby. We then were shown the PICU, pediatric intensive care unit, where he would stay after his second heart surgery. She took us to the cath lab where my son would receive heart caths.

When she was done, she directed us to the elevator that would take us to the parking garage. As we rode in the elevator, she asked me if there was anything she could help me with. I shook my head no as I stared at my large belly. He was very active that day, kicking and trying to stretch. It was if he was trying to get my attention away from the gloom that was slowly taking over my life.

As the elevator doors opened, the cardiologist asked if I picked out a name yet. The smile that appeared on my face startled me for a moment as I told her his name was Samuel, named after my little brother.

I spent the next four months in and out of doctor's offices. Twice a week, I would go to my doctor for stress tests and once a week I would get an ultrasound from my baby's cardiologist. I tried to keep life at home as normal as I could for my two boys. I knew they were worried and they couldn't grasp the severity of it all. I did not talk to anyone. I had no friends and slowly Dr. Smith, the cardiologist became my friend.

At the end of March, my doctor suggested that I talk to the neonatal doctor that would take care of my baby when he was born. The children's hospital was a hour away from the hospital I would deliver him in so he had to be stable before they could transport him. After a stress test, I sat down at another table and faced the neonatal doctor. I don't remember in detail what she told me, but I hated her. I hated her disposition. I hated her detachment to the whole situation. I hated her doom and gloom approach. I left the meeting crying and I vowed not to return to the hospital or my doctor.

I transferred my care to the hospital close to the children's hospital. I missed my doctor. The drive one way was a hour and a half and I worried if I went into labor, would I be able to get to the hospital in time. Frustrated, I called my doctor and explained why I left and asked him if I could come back to him. My first visit back, he introduced me to the doctor who was the head of the neonatal department. She wasn't full of doom and gloom. She talked as if my baby was going to survive and she promised me that she would be the one taking care of him.

It made me feel better to have a plan with the doctors I thought would take care of him. By the second week of April, my maternity clothes were stretched beyond capacity and I was barely able to get around. I dared not wish I could deliver my baby. No matter how miserable I was, my baby coming into the world was worse.

April 14, 2006 was Good Friday. Bruno, my oldest son, was home from school for the holiday and I busied myself by making them breakfast. All of a sudden, I felt as if my water broke so I waddled quickly into the bathroom. By the time I reached the bathroom, blood was gushing down my legs.

I tried to clean myself up as I called the doctor. I yelled for my husband and begged him to get the boys dressed so we could go to the hospital. I called my mother and little brother and told them what was going on. As we drove to the hospital, I was consumed with fear. I still had five weeks left to go in the pregnancy. Why was I bleeding? We arrived at the hospital and I remembered that my doctor had left for a holiday weekend. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of every thing going wrong.

"I don't know why you are hemorrhaging, but your baby's vitals are stable right now so we are going to monitor you and the baby and hope we don't have to take him." The doctor who was taking care of my doctor's patients said to me with a thick accent that made it hard to understand him. I laid in bed, trying to keep calm for my boys. I knew that were stressed and worried. I asked my husband to take them to the gift shop to buy some thing for their baby brother, which perked the boys spirits up. My mother showed up and I was able to talk to my little brother on the phone. He lived eight hours away and he reassured me that every thing would be alright and he was on his way home to be there for my boys.

I was laying in the bed talking to my mother, when I noticed the nurse that was staring at the monitor for my baby started to act anxious. She quickly excused herself and walked out of the room only to return shortly with the doctor right behind her.

"Your baby's vitals are starting to decline and your health is in jeopardy. We have to go in now." He told me as more people crowded into the room. I smiled and kissed my boys even though inside my mind I was screaming for this all to stop. They wheeled me into the operating room and inserted the epidural. As they strapped me onto the operating table and started to prep me, I couldn't help but to tremble. I couldn't tell if it was because of my nervousness of all that was happening or because the operating room was so cold.

Dr. Smith, the cardiologist told me numerous times that I could tell how ill my baby was when he came into the room by looking at his complexion. The more blue he appeared, the more critical his condition was. I tried to hold my breath as I felt my doctor pull him out of my stomach and I quickly released it when I saw my baby wasn't blue at all. He was extremely pale, but not blue. The doctor held him up to show me, but a group of people wearing scrubs quickly whisked him out of the room. I told my husband to follow the group so my baby would not be alone and I quietly laid there waiting for the doctor to close me up. As the nurse wheeled me into a dim light recovery room, I was still happily living in my delusional room that my baby was alright because he wasn't blue.

I was horrified when I saw the first neonatal doctor, whom I did not care for, walk into my room. I didn't welcome her. I just kept asking her where the neonatal doctor I chose was at.

"I am on call tonight so I will be taking care of your baby. He is very critically ill. Due to his prematurity, his lungs are not developed. This complicates his heart defects. I found your baby to have many physical deformities, which leads me to believe that he has some sort of syndrome. He is too critical to try to stabilize him here so we are transporting him immediately to the children's hospital. I'm afraid it's likely that he will not make it through the weekend." The neonatal doctor told me as she tried to be compassionate. I turned my head to face away from her. I did not like her before, I certainly hated her now. She received the hint and quietly walked out of the room. Shortly after, my mother and sister walked into my room.

"They say he's dying. Please help me get out of this bed. This is all wrong!" I begged my sister as I grasped at her shirt. Connie, my sister started crying and my mother started ranting about how I was in no condition to go anywhere. Two nurses interrupted us and informed me that they were transporting me to my room. My mother, sister and my two boys followed my bed as they wheeled me down the hallway.

After the nurses got me settled in my private room, my boys took my mother and sister to go look at my baby. Mario was so proud of his baby brother. Connie told me that he was standing looking into the window of the neonatal room with a smile and he was so excited to point his baby brother out to her. I was thankful that my boys did not realize all that was going on. Soon, my replacement doctor walked into my room.

"As you know, your baby is being transported to the children's hospital. They are waiting for the ambulance to come from the hospital to retrieve your boy. I know you want to go with him, but I'm afraid you can't. You are still hemorrhaging and your risk for having to get a hysterectomy is great. You need to stay here and let us monitor you. Do you know where your husband is?" The doctor told me. Where was my husband? I had no idea!

Apparently, shortly after my baby was born, my husband left the hospital and no one could get a hold of him. I was frantic in the fact that I didn't want my baby to go to the hospital alone. I tried to get out of the bed, but my legs were still numb and I couldn't swing them off the bed.

"Are you crazy? What are you trying to do? You just had major surgery, you are not going anywhere!" My mother yelled at me as she entered my room. I screamed at her telling her to shut up. I was stunned for a moment thinking I just told my mother to shut up but I couldn't stop. My baby was alone and he needed me. I tried to ignore my mother as I focused on my sister. I started pleading with her for her to help me out of the bed so I could go to the hospital with my son. As my sister started to cry, Dr. Smith walked into the room pushing a wheelchair. The sight of the cardiologist quieted my mother down and she left the room. Dr. Smith swung my legs over to the side of the bed and helped me get into the wheelchair. I was silent until we were in the hallway.

"They told me Sammy is dying, Grace." I quietly whispered feeling defeated. She wheeled me into a small room that had x-rays of my baby hanging on the wall. Dr. Smith put her arm on my shoulder as she begun to talk.

"His lungs are underdeveloped and he is in respiratory distress but I'm confident that we can manage that. His heart is stabilized for now. He has congenital scoliosis but his nervous system does not seem to be affected. He has an elongated thumb along with a cleft palate. He would be in better hands if he was at the children's hospital with a complete staff of specialists. I'll take good care of him. What you need to do is take care of yourself so you can be there for Sammy." She informed me as she squeezed my shoulder. I couldn't take my eyes off of my son's x-ray. His spine broke my heart. It was curved in places and it looked as if there were parts missing. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I wondered if my boy was too broken to survive.

Dr. Smith pushed me into a small room full of incubators and babies. I instantly saw my son and impatiently waited while Dr. Smith tried to maneuver my wheelchair around the incubators and equipment. She finally got me situated next to my son's bed and I was so happy to see him pissed off and crying.

"Keep fighting Sammy. I love you." I whispered to him. For a moment, he didn't have a breathing tube down his throat or wires and tubes covering his body. Every thing and every one disappeared and I lovingly watched my baby and marveled at how much he looked like his brothers when they were born.

Our moment was disrupted by the sight of a mobile incubator and paramedics that filled the room. I noticed behind them was my husband. My mother, seeing my husband focused her anger and attention on him. The paramedics rolled the mobile incubator beside me and as they picked my baby up and transferred him over me into the mobile incubator, I silently thought how cruel it was that they held my baby inches away from me and yet they wouldn't let me hold him for just a few seconds.

The paramedics wheeled my baby away from me and out the door and I told my husband to go with them so my son wouldn't be alone. I was numb. I was lost. Nothing went the way I was told it would go. Dr. Smith told me good bye quickly as she followed the paramedics out of the room. As my boys walked along side my wheelchair as a nurse pushed me, I tried to smile and reassured them that their little brother was going to be okay.

As the nurse got me settled into my bed, I instructed my mother and sister to take my boys to my mother's house to wait for my brother, Sam to arrive. I told them of how much fun they were going to have with their uncle. Quickly, their worry was replaced with excitement of seeing their favorite uncle. They left and the nurse injected some thing into my IV as she talked about how surprised she was that I wasn't feeling any pain. The statement made me wince because she had no idea exactly how much pain I truly had. I just had years to perfect the ability to mask my pain.

I laid there in bed, holding a stuff animal my boys bought their brother at the gift shop. I didn't realize I was holding it like a baby until a nurse walked in and looked at it. I slipped the stuffed animal to my side as she introduced herself. She handed me a tiny seashell. I had forgotten until then that I grabbed a nurse when I was told my baby wasn't going to survive and begged the nurse to have a priest give my baby his Last Rites. At the time, I was a devote Catholic and it was important to me for Sammy to be blessed. The nurse placed the seashell into my hand and told me that they couldn't get a hold of a priest. A nun, Sister Judy tended to my baby instead. She hoped I didn't mind, but instead of giving my baby his Last Rites, she baptized him using the seashell. I thanked the nurse and requested that she thank the nun for me. After she left, I grasped the seashell and cried. It was upsetting that I wasn't there to experience my son's first Spiritual moment, but I thanked God that he had a woman, a mother figure, to be there with him for it.

My nurse checked on me and was surprised that I wasn't asleep. She injected more medicine into my IV and told me that I should be knocked out within a couple of minutes. The medicine didn't affect me. I was not tired, I was sad and lost, clinging to a seashell and a stuffed animal that replaced my baby. Around midnight, my brother called to tell me he had made it to my mother's. I could hear my boys laughing in the background which made my pain lessen a little. I did not sleep that night. I just laid there staring at the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until I could get out of there and get to my baby.