Ivy Leaves - The death of a child

Starting out is always the hardest part.  Moving that first step forward to begin a journey of unknown length and time, knowingly opening oneself to happiness, grief, wonder, sadness and all the emotions to come.  

This is my first step.  The first of many to come.  Some large, some small, but always moving forward towards the acceptance and understanding that I so desperately need.

My name is Justin. I have a wonderful wife named Michele and together we have 3 wonderful daughters.  Two 6 year old twins that couldn't be more different in looks or personality and our 3 year old daughter Ivy.  All of our girls have special qualities about them and are special to us.  One of Ivy's gifts was her long curly hair and a beautiful smile,  people would stop us in the store and tell us what a beautiful child she was.  We of course agreed but I do admit to being a little biased about it.

On Oct 4th 2011 I woke up at five AM to get ready for another day of school and work.  I found my wife already up with Ivy.  I descended the stairs to them and asked what was wrong.  Ivy was feeling some pain in her stomach and felt warm to the touch.  We decided that I would take her to the emergency room just to make sure that she was alright.  Doing what most parents do,  needing the reassurance of a professional that all was right with those we love most.  My wife had been up with her so I took her to the ER and we were checked in at the desk.  Ivy sat in my lap wrapped up in her favorite yellow blanket that she drew comfort from.  We were taken into the ER and put in a room.  Ivy laying on the bed and chatting with me about many things....minor things I know but what I would not give to remember the exact wording,,,,the phrasing and the sound of her little voice as she giggled and laughed.  The nurse came in first and took her temperature it was over 103 degrees.  Then they had Ivy use the restroom and save it in a cup for lab purposes.  It came back with all sorts of information about white blood count and such.  Many which were very high.  At this point I started to worry for my little one until the doctor reassured me that it was just a urinary tract infection and that he would prescribe a oral antibiotic to take home and give to her.  

Feeling much better about the situation now that I had been reassured by a professional I filled the prescription at the hospital pharmacy and immediately gave her the first dose.  Carrying her in my arms with her head next to mine she was completely wrapped up in her favorite yellow blankie.  As we left the building to go out to the van she wrapped her arms around my neck and said "I love you daddy"  I replied that I loved her to and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  As I was fastening her seatbelt she asked me " Daddy will you always protect me?"  I thought it an odd question but assured her that I would always protect her from anything.

I drove her home with her quietly humming to herself in the back of the van and left her with my wife.  I left for school and decided to stay late because I needed to catch up on some homework.  So I turned off my phone and studied.  At 1PM I turned it back on and found dozens of messages.  Before I could read any of them my phone rang, it was my father telling me that Michele had gone to give Ivy her 2nd dose of antibiotics and had found her not breathing.  She had performed CPR and had been taken to the hospital by ambulance and was being lifeflighted from there to Primary Childrens Medical Center in Salt Lake City.  I parked my van in a lot next to school not being able to drive as tears coursed down my face.  My mother drove up with my wife and picked me up.  I climbed into the car and held my wife and sobbed for my little girl.  Terrified beyond reason that we would wind up being one of "those other" parents that bad things happen to.  Upon arrival at the hospital we sprinted in and between sobs we managed to get our daughters name out and were immediately were taken upstairs to the ICU.  We were sat in a private room and asked to wait until the doctor could come see us.  The doctor came in to what I can only describe as a whirlwind of questions and hysterical emotions.  We found that Ivy was on a ventilator and being kept alive by machines.  They did not know anything yet but suspected septic shock.  Her organs had mostly shut down and was not breathing on her own.  The loss and despair of this was such a numbing shock that I felt I would never feel warmth again as ice coursed through my veins and despair overwhelmed my mind.  

All through the long night my wife and I, family and friends sat by her bedside holding her hand.  Taking turns with her as long as possible before leaving for a short time to grieve in private.  The doctor was honest and told us that it was very bad and things were not going well.  I called family and friends from that hospital waiting room....pouring out my tears and fear.  Losing the battle with hope I spiraled further and further into a never ending abyss.  The next morning my wife and I sat together,  bleary eyes and muddled minds from the long arduous night.  The doctor sat with us and explained that our little ones mind was gone and there was no longer any hope.  A lance of pain and agony sank itself into my soul as all hope was finally taken from us.  We chose to let her go with dignity and love.  So at 8:15 AM on October 5th we held our little girl in our arms for her final minutes.  I held her little body as tight as I could in my arms and told her that it was ok.  That I loved her and it was ok to let go.  That we loved her more that anything and we would trade places with her in an instant.  As family surrounded us I held my dying child in my arms and sobbed out my love to her.  Burying her face with kisses.  Then....she was gone and my world was over.  What to do,  what to say, how to live now that my child was gone.  We gently laid her down on the bed and left the room.  

I will stop for now but will continue the narration in a few days.  A few days to shed a few more tears and ponder what I want to say next.  

Even though I will think on what to put next I know that the last thing I will write today is

"I love you to Ivy"  

Daddy.