Our Little Angel

Let me forewarn you that this post will be sad. It will be full of emotions and probably all over the place. You may hate me for writing it, for sharing it with the world, but this is my outlet. This is how I cope. Please love me through it.

For those of you who don't know, our son went to be with Jesus just two nights ago.
It has been the most excruciating painful time that I have ever experienced and I don't wish this on anyone. We aren't the first to go through such a horrible event as losing a child, and unfortunately, we won't be the last.

We wake up in the morning, and we cry.
We go to sleep at night, and we cry.
We suddenly wake up at one of his normal feeding times, and we cry...because no one woke us up.
We swear we hear him crying in another room, and we cry.
We swear that we hear his music playing in his crib, and we cry.
I randomly stumble upon his high chair that is still sitting, unused in the box, and I lose it.
He will never use that high chair.
He will never poop in all the diapers I have stockpiled.
The breastmilk that I spent hours accumulating and freezing over the last 5 months, he will never drink.
So many outfits he won't wear.
There will be no more pictures of him, and I took tons every single day.

I think that God prepared me for this in a way.
I can honestly tell you that I never took a single second of Harper's life for granted.
Maybe it all felt too perfect, too surreal having him with us. It felt too good to be true.
You see, I prayed for months that I would get pregnant with him. And when I finally did, I knew to appreciate the miracle growing inside of me.
And then, when he was born way too early, I prayed for months that he would be okay.
That he would breathe better, eat better, get better so he could come home with us.
Once he came home, and didn't sleep much, I couldn't get mad at him. Even at 2 AM, wide awake, he was so precious to me. I was so glad to finally have him home and in my arms, all to myself in the middle of the night, that it didn't matter that my eyes were burning with lack of sleep.
So in a way, God prepared me.
Had this been a normal pregnancy, I wouldn't have been able to handle this.

I know a lot of you want to know what exactly happened.
Well, so do I!
Harper was wonderful up until about 10 o'clock that night.
We had gone on a walk that afternoon and I cherished the fact that I could take him in the stroller.
He had been spitting up a good bit that day, which we knew was more than normal.
We were watching him closely, and making sure he wasn't dehydrated. Doing everything that we had been taught. And we were going to call the doctor on Monday morning.
Of course, this is when we could say "what if"...what if we would have called the doctor right then?
What if we would have taken him to the emergency room right then?
But I have to be realistic....why would we take him to the emergency room just because he was spitting up? Babies spit up, it's normal.
Please don't judge me on this, or tell me what you would have done differently.
We aren't perfect, and obviously we probably would have benefitted from taking him to the hospital, but I think "what ifs" are absolutely horrible.
We can't go back and question everything done. We can't change anything. Nothing brings our baby back.
So right before it was time for his next bottle, Harper was sleeping in his daddy's arms.
I had just gotten back from the grocery store, and all 3 of us were in the kitchen together laughing, while putting away groceries. This may seem unimportant but it will forever be my last good memory.
We laughed because Harper would hear my voice and start looking for me. He knew my voice.
And that warmed my heart every single time. He was a Momma's boy through and through.
So FH held Harper so that he could watch me while I put up groceries. It was almost like he was memorizing my face, so he could have it with him in heaven.

While Harper was sleeping, he started spitting up. When I tell you that Michael did amazing, I mean absolutely amazing during all this, I mean it. I freaked out and was zero help at all.
It felt almost like he was dry-heaving. Like he needed to spit up more, but couldn't because there was nothing in his tummy. And that's when he started having trouble breathing.
Fh told me to call 911.
And honestly, I was slow moving. I guess I thought that if I waited just a bit, it would be a false alarm. That we would have it under control.
It was not a false alarm.
I called 911. You should know we live in a small town. Our ambulance is slow.
The cops and the firemen got here. And my friend Lindsey who is a NICU nurse got here.
I remember the cop saying he was breathing. Good, he was breathing.
Lindsey, God bless her, dropped everything and came to our house. Her little kids in tow.
If it weren't such a horrific moment, I would have laughed when she yelled at the cop and said "Someone go sit with my kids outside, I'm not getting arrested."

He was still breathing when the ambulance arrived.
The ambulance, it just wasn't equipped for how tiny he was.
I will forever wonder if his ride to the ambulance was the reason for his death.
If their lack of tiny equipment was the reason he didn't make it.
But again, speculating or placing blame helps nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I rode in the ambulance. And I was terrified.
Honestly I thought Harper was okay. He was breathing still when FH handed him over, surely we are better off now that professionals are in charge.
I even was mad at myself for not bringing any milk with us. I was thinking about how he was going to be hungry and that we were prob going to be back at the NICU for awhile.
I just focused on not throwing up while riding over 100 mph in that ambulance.
It should be noted that I was already feeling sick before any of this had started.

When we got to the hospital, the paramedic jumped out of the ambulance running with Harper in his arms. At the time, this told me nothing. Now I realize that he ran because he wasn't breathing.

When we arrived at the hospital, he wasn't breathing and his heart wasn't beating enough for him to live.

They were able to restart his heart about 3 or 4 times.
It was absolutely horrible to see him laying on that huge table, naked and helpless.
I just wanted to hold him. And make everything better.
They finally got him stable enough to get a head scan.
The doctor told us that she would read the scan immediately.

We knew immediately that something was wrong when she didn't come to tell us the results.

They worked on him for 2 hours. Poor sweet little baby just wanted to go home to Jesus, and they kept bringing him back. Of course I wanted him myself, but after 2 hours, it becomes evident.

He was not ours anymore.

The doctor finally came to us. She told us that he would never be "our Harper" again. His brain went without oxygen for too long. No matter how prepared you think you are for this, you aren't. You can't be. There's just one tiny shred of hope left in you. She told us that they don't like to call it on babies, because they all have babies at home and know how horrible this is. So what did we want to do.
There was no doubt in my mind at all. I would have laid down on that table myself to take the pain away from him, so I wanted to do anything I could to help him.
Being in God's arms was a much, much better place for him that being on that table, barely hanging on.

I wanted to hold him. I always wondered how moms do that...how do mothers with stillborn babies hold their babies? How do parents with dying children hold them? The answer is quite simple actually. "Because that's my baby." I needed to hug him and love on him.

They swaddled him and handed him to me. I rocked him in my arms. And FH and I sang "Jesus Loves Me" to him. Minutes could have gone by or hours, we looked up and we were all alone in that huge room, that was previously occupied by 20+ nurses and doctors.

I'm so glad that Harper went straight from my arms to Jesus' arms.
I know he is breathing so easily in heaven and I can't wait to see him again.

Thank you all so much for your prayers. Please say an extra prayer for my husband. We all know how a father loves a son, and their bond was extremely great as he stayed home with him while I was at work.

We have a long road ahead of us, filled with winding curves and hills and tons of potholes. But I know that since God brought us to it, He will bring us through it. I 100% believe that because of all your prayers, God has given me the strength to deal with this. His arms are wrapped around me and I feel them more than I ever have before.
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