Grief

Kathryn died early Wednesday morning about 1am.  The weekend had been a real turnaround for her, but then she simply took a turn for the worse.  Monday was rough.  Around mid-day, she had a really bad "episode," where her saturation levels went haywire and her CO2 skyrocketed.  It took a long time for her to recover from that.  She had a quiet night Monday night, and then Tuesday it happened again, but much worse.  The doctors were trying to have her CO2 levels remain around 40 or 50, but on Tuesday, hers got up to 178.  Our pediatrician happened to be there at that point to explain to us that she had never personally seen numbers that high and that most adults pass out and go inconscious when numbers hit around 80.  At least we knew then she wasn't aware of things. 

She just never recovered from that.  After that, her stomach turned a very red color, and we learned later that evening she had suffered from a perforated bowel and her blood was too acidic for her little body to combat. 

BT and I held our daughter for the first and last time and she took her last breaths in our arms.

We decided to have an autopsy done (it's strongly encouraged by doctors in hydrops cases) so we can finally maybe know what caused it, and is especially important for BT and I if it was a rare genetic problem that could possibly happen again.  We are also having Kathryn cremated.  We felt this was the best choice due to the fact neither of us are from Birmingham and we still don't know if God will choose for us to live here forever. 

Our hearts are utterly and completely broken, as we are now members of a club that every parent on earth dreads joining.  I am comforted to have met many wonderful people who are unfortunately members of this club as well through this journey and now feel a forever kinship with my grandmother, as she lost a daughter at 6 months old.

The tears continue to come, off and on.  They come more often than not right now, and we both know that in time that will get better, even though it will never go away. 

She sure was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and like I said in the previous post, I got to lock eyes with her.  That is a memory in my head that can never be stolen by death.

God says all of our days are numbered, and we know now that Kathryn's days were numbered at 12.  We take comfort in the fact that we got 12 days more than many said we would ever have.  That's how strong she was.  But on the flip side, with each continued day sprung more and more hope.  That hope is hard to part with.

We have chosen to have a very private gathering with just our family and only my and BT's very closest friends here in Birmingham.  We hope you understand that because of the unbelievable grief that accompanies this, we only want to be surrounded by those very closest to us as we say goodbye to our baby. 

I did post on Facebook, however, that I want others to be a part of this through writing notes to Kathryn about how she touched your life and what she taught you.  If you would like to do this, you can comment on this blog post, send me a message through facebook, or email me directly if you know my email. 

We'll then attach those messages to a balloon and have Thomas release all those balloons on Saturday morning over Birmingham.

In the last four months, we have had to say goodbye to a household pet, go through the continued worsening sickness and subsequent death of a parent, and now have had to say goodbye to our daugther. 

I do not wish a more painful four months on anyone I know on this Earth.

Please continue to pray for us as we grieve. 

We are holding tight to each other and our beautiful happy son, who right now is the one thing that keeps us going each and every day.

For now, though, I slept, covered in post-partum sweat, and woke up to a new day that is, thank God, not the day that my daughter died.