Sawyer’s Story (part 7)- 2:46 am

January 20, 2011 at 2:46 am | Posted in Death, Grief | 11 Comments
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I woke up at 2:46 am.  The night nurse was in our room.  She was doing CPR.  On Sawyer.  She was saying over and over again, “The baby is not breathing.”  I could not comprehend what was happening.  One year and 1 month later I still do not understand.  I doubt I ever will.

I jumped out of bed.  I started to scream.  Evan called 911.  The night nurse continued to do CPR.  Sawyer’s coloring was all wrong – but he was not blue.  I wanted to hold him.  I did not because he was receiving CPR.  I just watched.  I thought I saw his eyes open.  I could feel a flicker of  hope mix with the horrible pit of fear in my stomach.

The police were the first to arrive.  I have no idea what the police officer said.  I just could not understand what was taking the ambulance so long.  Evan told me to get dressed.  I was soaking from the night sweats.  I changed my clothes. 

I thought back to a Friday night/Saturday morning 5 years earlier when I got dressed to go to the hospital to see Jake for the final time.   The morning/night in 2005, I walked down the hall to where my parents were sleeping.  I told them we were going to the hospital to see Jake.  At 2:56 am December 26, 2009 I called my parents to once again tell them we were going to the hospital.  This time we were going to the hospital with Sawyer.

The firemen arrived next.  Evan ran downstairs to put our dogs in Uncle W.’s room. 

Sidenote:  We have 2 dogs.  I cannot believe I have not written about them yet but I will.  In another post. 

Evan waited outside our house to make sure the ambulance did not miss it.  Finally, the paramedics arrived.  They came up to our room with a huge stretcher.  The night nurse stopped doing CPR. The paramedics took over.  Now I not only could not hold Sawyer but I was having trouble seeing him through all the people gathered around him.

They took Sawyer to the ambulance.   There were so many people.  It was so chaotic.  I remember getting my jacket from the closet next to Uncle W.’s room.  I tried to tell him that there was something wrong with Sawyer.  I am not sure what I said.

Now I was in the front seat of the ambulance.  Evan was beside me.  The paramedics would not let us in the back with Sawyer.  We were both in the front seat.  The ambulance driver told us only one could sit up front.  The other would have to drive separately.  Evan promised he would be right behind us. We left Uncle W., the night nurse and the police in the house with our twins who miraculously were still asleep.  We drove away.


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  1. Lanie,
    I wish I could take this story away. I hope in the telling of it you are finding a healing peace.


  2. It’s devastating to hear this story even with the passing of so much time. You are incredibly strong and wonderful and I love you.

  3. I too do not understand it…. all our love…

  4. Lanie,
    I cannot imagine what this night was like for you and Evan. You are a very brave lady my dear. I hope and pray you find some healing and peace. All my love.

  5. I can not imagine your heartbreak. I’m so sorry.

  6. Saying a prayer for you, Friend. Sawyer is beautiful, and I love reading his story- it is so heartbreaking, but so full of love.

  7. Hello, I am following your story, just wishing you hope and healing on your journey. I just wanted you to remember there are other people, ones you have never met, sending your family love.

  8. Thank you, again, for sharing your story with all of us. We continue thinking of you…

  9. […] if they were not premature.  I could be in control if I could just keep them out of the NICU.  Sawyer’s death let me know loud and clear that I was wrong about that […]

  10. […] do not like it but I have accepted the fact that Jake and Sawyer have died.  However, I refuse to give up hope that other babies will live.  I do not know how to […]

  11. I am so deeply sorry, Lanie. I know that they were loved in life and will never be forgotten. Big, big hugs. ❤ ~Margaret G.

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