I was so excited for this particular Friday. You see, I had been a temp at my current employer and the boss man had finally offered me a full time position. That day, I was to take more steps to initiate my spot as a real person! Than that Sunday, we were to take our family holiday photos. I was determined to send out holiday cards. I had just got her dress and we were ready to have some real family photos of the Bogue Family.
|This was her Christmas Dress|
|Her little hat, the only thing we have that she wore that day|
|The weekend before in her new chair!|
I went to work as I usually do and carried on as I usually do. I had to take a pee test that day, all to substantiate my spot as a full time employee. So I took a late lunch and headed downtown to do that. I got back to work at around 2:00 in the afternoon. As I carried on my merry way, I was counting down the minutes. It was Friday after all and I was always excited to come home to J and S. Then a single text, a phone call, and my life as I knew it would shatter into a billion pieces right before me. It was 2:43 and I checked my phone, I had a new message from the sitter. "Come quick its an emergency" I also had 2 missed calls from her. I told my colleague, there's an emergency with Savanna and I have to go, I'll let you know what's going on. I grabbed my stuff and left. As I walked to the car, in that 3 minute walk, a million and one scenarios ran through my head. I called the sitter, and she was hysterical.. I couldn't make out a word she was saying, the only word I could make out was 'ambulance.' I ran to my car, those scenarios I had whipped up only began to play faster and harder. My hands were shaking, knees were weak, the world was spinning around me. I sped to her house, about ten minutes from my job. I called J and told him to get there now. I remember running red lights, driving through parking lots to get past people, I'm sure I made some people very angry, I can remember praying the whole way there. "God please let her be OK, let her be OK, just please let her be OK." But there was that instinctual mother feeling that something was not OK. As I pulled into the complex, my breath was sucked from my lungs as I saw a hoard of people outside, a fire truck and an ambulance. I ran to the house, the sitter standing in the hallway hysterical, the medic standing there. I'm asking for my baby, where is my baby. The medic pulls me aside.
"It appears that she may have aspirated. She was covered in vomit, wasn't breathing, but she was still warm to the touch.. now I know this is going to be difficult but I just need to get some information." What? Not breathing? Vomited? Did she choke? Where is she? I want to see her!! Can I see her? And now you want information? I just want to see her! He walked me to the ambulance and opened the back doors, stated the mother was here, there were 5 men in there, but I couldn't see her. As quickly as he opened the doors he closed them. At this point, I just though she had choked, stopped breathing.. I didn't realize the severity, or I just didn't want to admit the severity. I called J, it seemed like it was taking him forever, it was cold, I was waiting, I was scared and confused. I just wanted him to be there. He kept asking me if she was breathing, I kept telling him I think so, they said she was warm I don't remember. So I got off the phone, and I asked him, is she breathing. No. The walls of the world seemed to implode around me the sky seemed to disappear, noises and sounds emerged from the center of my being. The ambulance left, sirens blaring and I shuddered at that sound. You always hear the sirens, you never think it's going to be for someone you love, someone whose life is so precious.
I stood there and waited for J, I called my mom in a panic not knowing what to do. She had as many questions as I did, and was completely terrified. In that moment, I felt horrible for calling her out of the blue while she was at work, and all I could tell her is that her granddaughter is not breathing and that's all I know. I continued to sit there, and finally, I saw J's truck. I ran to him in the parking lot, got in and we proceeded to follow the fire truck to the hospital. It seemed an eternity to get there. J was making phone calls and I called SB and told her what was going on, she tried to calm me, to tell me it was going to be OK, to tell me to pray. And I did, prayed so hard, harder than I ever have. But somehow I knew it was not going to be OK.
We finally arrived at the hospital. Walked into the ER. They immediately knew what we were there for. They walked us into this room off to the side. The charge nurse walked in followed behind her was the chaplain. J said, honey it's just a precaution.. Precaution my ass! I remember just saying "no, no, no" over and over again. The nurse had these eyes, and this look.. eyes and a look that I see in every person that comes to know our story. Eyes and a look that are forever burned into my memories. She took my hand and began to talk. I know she was speaking in clear and concise sentences all I could hear were snippets. 'She was warm' 'Asperated' '30-45 minutes w/o a pulse' 'Trauma team waiting' Somewhere within those sentences, those words forever changed my life, my legs gave out and I was on the floor. I was sobbing, I felt so sick to my stomach I wanted to throw up. I was sweating and shaking, inconceivable thoughts running through my head, my heart feeling ripped from my chest leaving it open for the world to kick at. "Do you want to see her?"
Slowly they picked me up, the chaplain started muttering words to us, I couldn't understand him, it was all a jumble a maze of words escaping his mouth. I'm sure he was praying, praying with us, and for us. We walked what seemed the forbidden road, the path to a life I didn't want any part of. As we walked, I could feel those eyes and those looks, they knew we were the parents of the tiny infant baby girl. We were the ones who were dealt these cards. They walked us into a room and there she was. A team of people surrounding her. Tubes in her mouth, her nose, patches all over her of where they were monitoring her vitals. They pulled a chair up right next to her and I sat with J standing at my side. I imagined it like you see in the movies or the miraculous stories you read in the paper. She would feel my touch and hear my voice, and open her eyes and it would be a medical mystery and we would be out of the hospital and back at home. But it didn't happen like that. Her color had changed, her body lifeless. I reached for her hand hoping it would grab me back, but nothing. I caressed her hair and started talking to her, wishing her life back into her body, praying for a miracle, closing my eyes and opening them in hopes I would open my eyes and be at work. This was just a terrible terrible dream. But it wasn't it was real. There was no response from her, they continued to do CPR, machines all around, medicine being injected into her IV. No response. I can remember just crying, telling her to come back to me, whispering in her ear, caressing her curls, holding her hand, looking up at the doctor and nurses willing them to bring her back. Somewhere in that time frame, the doctor reached across the gurney, across her body and placed his hand on mine. I peered up into his eyes, those eyes and that look as he spoke the words. "I'm so sorry honey, but the prognosis is not good." I crumbled, up to that point I still had a smidgen of hope, a prayer left in me that she could come back to us. But the reality of it all was that she had gone too long without oxygen and it had been, as far as they knew, at least an hour without a pulse. J leaned down and whispered in my ear, tears in his eyes, pain in his voice, baby she's gone.
|The weekend before|
They would have to take pictures, take evidence, they were questioning the baby sitter and would question each of us individually, they questioned us as the 'victims' parents. We walked out of the room, I needed air, I needed to breathe something other than the walls of that hospital. We walked into the family room to be overwhelmed by the people that had to come to support us. We don't have much out here, we just moved. But all of J's buddies and supervisors from work came and they hugged us some prayed with us. We went outside to breath some air, to try to make some realistic sense out of everything. The pain was thriving inside me and I was numb one minute, angry the next. J's cousin and wife came. And hugged us, talked with us. All the while the whole movie of the day replaying itself in my mind. We went back in to her room several times, after they cleaned up the area and had wrapped her up in the little sheet. I held her, her skin starting to grow cold and my heart and body giving in to the pain. I sat there with her, and I rocked her, the mommy rock. And I just talked to her. I touched her toes and her fingers, trying to take in every detail, every wrinkle, every roll. Stroked her hair and her eyes, never wanting to forget. I tried to smell her, only remnants of the hospital air left on her precious little body. J held her too, a daddy so broken holding and looking at his daughter in his arms. A picture that should only bring joy to my heart, instead it was pain and heartache. It was anger and hatred. It just wasn't right. So the night continued on, we were each questioned individually, the events that had transpired from that Monday up until that day. We each got through that. They went in took pictures of her, took foot prints, hand prints, and took a lock of her hair. They placed all of these things into a little purple box.
|The last picture we have of her alive. Taken 11.11.10|