Christopher's Death

On the early morning of St. Patrick's Day, Wednesday, March 17, 1993. I awoke to knowing something was wrong. It was 6:15 am, as I looked down in my arms, there was my beautiful baby boy. But something wasn't right, he was so cold and a slight pinkish-purple color began to form around his mouth. I screamed and my husband went to our neighbors (which were my in-laws) as I called 911. I was so frantic, my sister-in-law took the phone while my brother-in-law started the CPR. I felt so guilty for not knowing how to do CPR. When the ambulence arrived, I was in a different room then our son was, seeing as I was so hysterical at the time my in-laws thought it best that way. As the paramedics were leaving to take our son to the hospital, I could swear they had said he was breathing again as they rushed him out the door to the ambulance. I figured if there was no chance they wouldn't have bothered to take him to the hospital. Though many people offer to drive us to the hospital, we drove ourselves. On the way there I keep trying to convince myself that he was alive and waiting for his mommy and daddy to come and take him home. I kept saying that this was only a nightmare and I would soon wake up and everything would be normal again. When we got to the ER, my husband seen one of the paramedic, crying by the ambulence. He knew then what was happening. I was taken by a nurse to where the physician was working on our son. After being there for what seemed like 10 minutes (but proably shorter), the physician pronouced our precious baby boy dead.... I just fell to the floor and began to scream, telling him that wasn't possible, that this was all a mistake and that it wasn't really happening. Our beautiful, precious son dead? My husband heard my scream and began down the hallway to where I was, I met him in the middle (a nurse was helping me walk). The nurse took us to a small and private room just off to the side of the ER lobby and told us we could have all the time we needed there. I first called my dad, which could have caused an accident, he was driving at the time I called him. I tried to tell him just to meet us at the hospital but he wouldn't accept that and wanted to know why, so I told him. My husband called his mom and dad. His mom called her minister and everyone in the family came to the hospital to comfort us. I did have a bad experience at the ER, though most of my experience with the hospital was good considering the circumstances. I had a nurse that continually asked if we wanted to donate Christopher's organs, we said no. She asked 5 times, which I consider to be 4 times too many. I just couldn't understand why in our state of grief and misery, she would bother us so much about it. I also didn't understand how they would think of giving his organs to someone else when they had no idea what he died of. SIDS is a mystery and giving his organs to another baby was not an option in my mind...

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