Surgery is NEVER without risk - I know that, we ALL know that. Little bodies are fragile and you just never know how they are going react. Still, we go into each and every procedure hoping that all will go as planned. For sweet baby S, things did not. He suffered a hemorrhage and unable to be stabilized, he passed away in the arms of his family.
Not a day has gone by since Wednesday, February 3, 2010, that I have not relived Marissa's third hemorrhage. I know every single event of that day. I can close my eyes and see it playing out in slow motion, I can see what people were wearing, I can smell the smells, hear the sounds, everything. Call it a solid memory, PTSD, whatever you want, but I don't think it will ever go away. When a person walks that line or their child walks that line - the line between life and death - you don't get to forget. The thing is, we got our daughter back - we got to take her home. She has had 35 surgeries, THREE brain hemorrhages, yet she has survived and we get to go on with our lives as a family. For Baby S's family, they were robbed of their chance to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas together, to watch their son grow. They will bury their baby and that is just plain wrong. I know they will never get that day out of their minds and I know there is absolutely nothing anyone can do or say right now to ease their pain.
I have survivor's guilt. I have no words to provide to them. How do you wrap up what you want to say to someone in a sympathy card? How can you say anything to someone who has just lost the most precious thing on Earth? How do we just forge ahead knowing that they have been left behind?