Our son Nathan lived from July 14, 1998 to July 25, 1998. He was a very sweet, beautiful boy that looked much like his mother Ana. Other than the fact he was in Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, anyone looking at him during his first week would have thought that he had very good health.
We knew before he was born, since late January, that he had a bad heart condition. We decided early on that he would have surgery to modify his heart in the hope that it could function well enough for him to have a fairly normal life. We also knew that his life would be at risk from his birth. We accepted that as well as we could, and we were optimistic when he was born.
He lived a peaceful life for his first week, with Ana and I visiting him often at St. Louis Children's Hospital. He had what was planned to be the first of three heart surgeries on July 21. That first night, we thought he might not live. However, he pulled through, and the doctors increasingly spoke with more optimism about his condition for his remaining days.
Ana and I last saw Nathan alive that Saturday afternoon. His condition was critical, but stable, and, once again, his condition seemed to continue to improve. Then, after we returned home in the early evening, the hospital called to say that he had taken a turn for the worse. Around 6 p.m., a cardiac arrest ended his life quickly.
We held a private memorial service for him the following Monday at the Immaculate Conception Church in Columbia, IL. On Friday, July 31, we scattered his ashes at the Missouri Botanical Garden. If you go to the Kemper center at the Garden, you will see a circular area with a number of commemorative bricks. One of those bricks will have Nathan's name on it.
For each picture, you may follow the link to a larger version in color.
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Nathan peacefully yawning at the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit), St. Louis Children's Hospital |
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And David said: While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept, for I said, Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me and the child will live. But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me. (II Samuel 12:22-23)
As I write this, two weeks have passed since Nathan's death. Obviously, Ana and I still grieve deeply. This web page helps by giving me a way to communicate to others that Nathan was very real, a special little person who touched many lives in his short time.
A number of family and friends have helped with their kindness, prayers, thoughts, and generosity. Thank you.
Ana and I have found a few Web sites and books helpful, including the following:
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When Bad Things Happen to Good People |
a classic book by Harold S. Kushner |
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Mothers In Sympathy and Support (M.I.S.S.) | |
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Left Heart Matters - Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome | |
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AMEND |
A support organization for mothers whose babies have died. |
The (M.I.S.S.) web site includes a page they call Common Myths about the Death of your Child, which I found particularly helpful to read shortly after Nathan died. This, and other material, have helped me realize that our grief will take some time, that not everyone in our lives will understand it, and that we will have an almost desperate need to remember the brief time we had with our little boy.
Some would say that Nathan's passing so early in his life comes as a blessing. He had a bad heart, and would have met with an untimely death eventually. I take no consolation in this. I wanted him to come home and be with the rest of the family, and to live to keep fighting on.
Life is not always easy or fair. Nothing that could be done at any time for Nathan offered a way to pacify the pain surrounding his situation. Nathan continues to give us the challenge to be faithful to God and to have hope in our own lives.
Nathan was and is my son. He was my son in January when I heard of his heart problem. He was my beautiful son two weeks ago at birth. He was my son in the treasured time I got to hold him and love him at the hospital. He is now my deceased child, and he will always be part of our family and hold a special place in our lives.
As soon as Ana and I learned of Nathan's condition, we learned the hard way to take nothing for granted, not the life we have each day, nor the relationships we treasure with our loved ones. When I look at each family member tonight, I know that each of us must leave the world at some time, and the others behind must say good-bye. We all must love and care for each other here and now, whether our deaths arrive days or decades in the future.
For whatever reason, God has chosen that my Mom and my son would die within weeks of each other. Mom always loved babies; I would like to think that she is caring for Nathan now.
God bless you, my son Nathan, and good-bye.
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