Part IV: Hello and Goodbye
We had almost six months with our son. I can honestly say they were the best six months of my life. Yes, I love being a Mom to Chase’s younger siblings, but I miss pure parental bliss. The time before I was handed this ever-changing paperweight of grief that follows me around. I know lots of us moms say this, but our oldest son really was a good baby. He loved his sleep and went along with his parents silliness all the time. He’d humor us when we had dance parties before bedtime and entertain all of my kisses. Of course I struggled with being a first-time mom. Breastfeeding isn’t that natural, lack of sleep (still) makes me cry, mommy guilt starts early and adjusting to not being as carefree as I once was, stunk. But this isn’t my story, this is my sons, and…He. Was. Perfect. I got to spend a little over three full months at home with Chase, before it was time to go back to my full-time job outside of the home. This was also a big adjustment. I remember trying to calculate what time I’d have to get up in the morning in order to get myself ready, make my lunch, have coffee, be ready to feed Chase when he got up, pump any extra to freeze for later, clean pump parts and make the drive to the office. 3am wasn’t seeming that off base. How do people do this?! My mom stayed with us for over a month when I went back to work, so I didn’t even have to factor in the daycare drop-off time just yet. Eventually my husband and I got some sort of offbeat rhythm down and it all seemed to be working. Until one day, it all just went away.
June 27, 2013
I’d dropped Chase off at daycare that morning. I remember knocking on the front door and standing on the porch, with Chase looking at me contently from inside his cozy infant carrier. I held onto his little hand and stroked the top of his little fingers with my thumb. When our daycare provider opened the door, we chatted for a few minutes and I headed off to work. I was looking forward to that evening because my mom was coming to visit. She hadn’t been here in a few months and I was excited to show her that I’d found my mom groove. It wasn’t always pretty, on time, or in any sort of order, but I was doing it (along with my incredible husband).
My mom’s train was arriving around into town at 5:30pm, so I was finishing up a few things at work and I’d be taking off soon to pick her up. My husband was picking up Chase from daycare and then we’d all meet up back at our house. Shortly before 5:30pm, I received the text from my husband that would change our lives forever.
My husband’s text was just a blank bubble – no words. I texted back with a ‘?’, thinking he’d hit ‘send’ too fast and would be retyping shortly. The words never came. Instead, he called. I picked up the phone with a tone of slightly muffled pre-party excitement. My husband’s voice was shaky as he stuttered to get the words out. The pause was too long and I asked him what was wrong. “Chase is gone” I often think back to the hours that followed that phone call. They were quick and slow, blurred and clear.
Chase had passed away during his nap at daycare, a little after 3:30pm. When my husband had arrived to pick him up, he was greeted at the door by local law enforcement, asking him to confirm that he was Chase’s Dad. My husband has described to me how he tried to fight his way to the downstairs area of the house, to see our son. How he fell to the floor on the inside of the doorway, crying hysterically in disbelief. Being that this was now an open investigation, when I arrived, my husband was outside of daycare and the coroner’s office was inside, taking statements and pictures of “the scene”.
The sheriffs had strongly discouraged my husband from calling me. They had wanted to send a patrol car to my office to pick me up, anticipating my fragile state after I’d learn the news. Once I did receive the phone call from my husband, my coworkers were very helpful and understandably sharing in my shock. They tried to get me to sit down, but I remember telling them that I didn’t want to sit, because then this all might be real. My boss ended up driving me in my car, to daycare, with a coworker following behind. Shoot, my mom was waiting at the train station. I was trying to remember the quickest route to the station, but in light of what was happening I’m pretty sure I took us the longest and most painful route possible. Off-roading wasn’t out of the question. I was very matter-of-fact with both my mom and my mother-in-law, when I spoke to them and broke the news. Looking back now, I realize that I was in complete shock. No tears, just the facts. “Chase died”.
As soon as I arrived at daycare, I could see several Sheriff patrol cars, some other unmarked cars and the Coroner’s van, parked outside. My husband was on the curb, with a Sheriff standing close by. My husband and I met in the middle of the street and hugged. We just hugged. Part of me felt like we were the only two people on Earth for that moment, and the other, like we were being put on display. Sheriffs, my mom, my boss, my coworker, and several neighbors, were all looking at us. We spoke to the Sheriff for a little bit, until the detective at the Coroner’s office came out to ask us some questions. Had our son been sick? Was he currently taking any medications? Was he born with any birth defects or known medical conditions? As soon as questions were being wrapped up, they told us we’d be allowed to enter the house and see our son. They also said that our daycare provider and her family were inside, if we’d like to see them. Before we could say anything, we were warned that they were very distraught, our provider specifically, being inconsolable. I wanted to see them. We wouldn’t get the results of the autopsy for some time, but officers told us that there weren’t any concerning factors. Autopsy results would later show two congenital heart defects. Our daycare provider is a loving and sweet person and I will always will be grateful that she was with our son, when we couldn’t be.
We entered the house and went up a few short steps to see our daycare family. We sat on the floor with her, her husband and her daughter, and hugged. I still hadn’t really cried, but she had. She was. It was like something I’d never heard before. The true meaning of the word hysterical. After some time, the detective told us we could go downstairs and see our son.
We made the walk down two short flights of stairs to the main daycare area. I was surprised to see a handful of law enforcement employees still down there. On our way down the stairs we were warned that our son had passed several hours ago, so he might look a little different. He was starting to feel cool to the touch and his joints were getting stiff. He was wrapped up in a sheet and we could hold him for as long as we needed to. We were reminded that we wouldn’t be able to see him again. When we were finished, the Coroner said she would be taking Chase with her. She was going to carry him in her arms for the entire car ride…like a baby should be carried.
I took Chase in my arms and my husband and I sat down on a cream leather couch. I’d love to say that my baby looked like the same Chase that I knew. The same baby that I’d dropped off about nine hours earlier. But he was already our Angel. His lips were redder and his skin more pale. His hair looked so soft. Like a halo dusting his perfect little head. He always had really soft hair. I kissed him a lot. They were colder kisses, but they were so perfect. After all, I was kissing an Angel. I whispered that I loved him so so much. My husband had his arm wrapped around me and in that moment it really was just us, regardless of our audience. We took turns holding him, telling him we loved him and that he was our perfect little boy. We handed him gently over to the Coroner and took the long drive back home.
The days, months and years following this day have been spent, finding ways to honor Chase and finding new reasons to smile.
To go back to the beginning, click here.
5 Essentials to Rediscovering Your Joy After Loss
I know this wasn’t easy to share and even harder to write. It sucks life can be so unfair sometimes! Thank you for sharing and sending you big hugs!
Thank you so much for reading Stephanie! Yes, life can definitely be unfair. Grateful for family and friends to see us through these incredibly tough life situations. BIG HUGS!!!!
I am profoundly moved. To read the details brought me to tears. How painful and terrifying and your words transcend. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for reading Julia – you’re just special and that’s all there is to it. xoxoxoxoxoxoxo