Andrew's story...the abbreviated version

Last May, my son Andrew was born by emergency c-section at 27 weeks because of my severe preeclampsia. I was admitted to the hospital a few hours before he was born with high blood pressure. A few hours after being admitted, I was scheduled for an emergency ultrasound because the doctor didn't like what he was seeing during a non-stress test. The ultrasound was horrible. I knew something was wrong by looking at the technician's face. She was so quiet and serious. She said that Andrew was measuring small. She said she needed to page a doctor. Well, when the doctor came in, they started whispering in a corner, as I lay crying on the examination table with my husband trying futilely to comfort me. The doctor then came to speak with me. She said that Andrew was measuring 24 weeks and that I had reverse blood flow in the umbilical cord, which meant Andrew was literally starving to death and being deprived of oxygen. The doctor, who I later learned was a high-risk perinatologist, told me that Andrew needed to be delivered immediately, or else he would die.

After Andrew was born, there was silence in the operating room. He didn't cry. My OB made a comment that Andrew was really small, and she immediately handed Andrew over to the waiting NICU team. Four people from the NICU worked on Andrew in a corner of the OR as my doctor continued to work on me. I remember asking my husband, "Is he dead?" My husband said, "I don't know." I only later learned that Andrew was blue and lifeless. The NICU team intubated Andrew and whisked him away to the NICU. His apgar scores were 1-1-4.

Andrew lived for 65 days in the NICU. I spent almost all of my waking time at the hospital with him. I prayed. I tried to make bargains with God. But nothing worked. On July 9, 2o06, my Andrew died in my arms. Andrew's death shattered me into a million pieces. Even though I'm still alive, it's like I'm dead inside too. I can't explain it, but the person I was before Andrew came into my life no longer exists. She's dead.