On November 28, 1982 I became a mom for the first time. My first born was a perfect little girl with fluffy dark hair and the hugest blue eyes with the longest thickest lashes that you've ever seen. We named her Kelly Elizabeth. Kelly was not an easy baby. She was very vocal right from the beginning. By 3 weeks of age she knew my husband, Bernie, and I from everyone else and usually cried if anyone else held her. She was also smart. She started walking at 8 and a half months and talked well early.
The first 3 years she was quite shy, as a result I had a very close relationship with her. Around others adults she was usually glued to my leg but around other kids she became more outgoing. Shortly after she turned 3 we had our 2nd child - a baby boy named Derek. She seemed to blossum after Derek’s birth. I don’t know if it was just her age or the fact that she now had competition, but she became quite friendly and outgoing. In fact while my sister was taking care of her while I was still in the hospital they went to Friendly’s one day and she told everyone there all about her new baby brother and entertained the whole store.
I now felt like I had the perfect family - a wonderful, loving husband and a beautiful girl and a new baby boy. We were all in perfect health and so happy.
Then the summer she was 3 1/2 she got sick with what they thought was a stomach virus. Her two cousins had had it too. They had both been really sick but had gotten better. But then Kelly got it. She had it so bad that the second day her doctor admitted her to the hospital. They ran tests and found out she was developing this thing called Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome (HUS).
At the time they didn't know what caused it. Now they know it is linked to E.Coli (0157H7). A common source is hamburg. It has since gotten alot of publicity since the outbreak at the Jack-in -the-Box Restaurants in Washington State. You don't have to actually eat the contaminated food yourself. It can be passed on through contact (like unwashed hands) with someone else who has eaten the food.
Kelly fought valiantly for her life for 13 days but everything went wrong. The illness causes the prostaglandins in your blood to be more sticky causing it to clot. It also affects the kidneys. Kelly had been put on dialysis and her kidneys had started to work again but then she started getting blood clots in her brain. The doctors tried everything but they couldn't stop it. It finally effected her brain stem and they declared her brain-dead. On Wed. Aug 27th, they told us there was no hope left. They wanted to take her off the ventilator and have us hold her as she died. I was in shock. How could this be happening??? And how could they expect me to hold her and watch her die?? But then I pulled together and knew of course I'd want to be with her and hold her for the last minutes of her life.
So Bernie and I went in and took turns holding her, stroking her, talking to her and telling her we loved her while she died. It took 25 minutes. It was the longest, yet also the shortest, 25 minutes of my life. At 10:50 am Wed. Aug, 27 1986 my beloved first born child was pronounced dead.
Every Christmas the support group I belonged to used to hold a service for remembering our children. You could write a poem to your child to be read during the service and for the first 4 years I did. This is my favorite and last one I wrote.
When someone tells you your child is going to die, time stands still. And when it starts up again - the whole world has changed and you will never be the same again.
3 years, 9 months. Is that a long time or short? It all depends on what you are talking about. For a lot of things that would be a long time. But for the life of a child it is short. Much, much too short a time to live a life.
But my Kelly, I try to remind myself that you left me with a LIFETIME of memories. And sharing those few years with you has had such an impact on my life. You may not be here physically anymore yet you are right there with me everyday and you affect my every move - even simple ones.
Even something as silly as those blow dryers they have in the restrooms for drying your hands. I always use them instead of paper towels as I am reminded of how terrific you thought they were, and how you would always claim you had to go to the ladies room right in the middle of eating out in a restaurant just so you use the blow dryer.
And whenever I am picking up the toys your little brothers have strewn all over the house and I think of asking them to help me, I remember the response I always got from you, “But my hands are too tired!” And a smile lights my face and I often end up doing it myself before I realize it.
And each night as I tuck your brothers into bed and go to turn out the light I’m reminded of how your dad always had to unscrew the lightbulb in your ceiling,as you were forever getting up and switching the light back on so you could play instead of going to sleep. Your goal in life was to grow big enough to reach that light. A simple enough goal - yet one you were never allowed to reach.
And thinking of you and deeply feeling my loss I often go back in after they’re asleep and just watch them. Sleeping children are the picture of innocence. And as I gaze down upon them I am filled with an overwhelming love and I get this undescribable feeling of thankfulness that they are warm and breathing and alive. I don’t take that for granted for even one moment anymore.
Whenever I get angry at them for the mischief they’ve caused, I always remember your standard comeback, “I’m just a kid, you know!” I realize how true those words are and often let them off the hook as kids will be kids and that’s how things should be.
And whenever I try something new I remember the confidence you always had in me. No matter what. Like the time I tried waterskiing and you were in the boat ahead of me coaching, “Bend your knees! Hold on tight! Don’t let go!” Then even though I only got up once for about 3 seconds you told everyone I was the best. Though later alone, you did come to me and ask, “How come you ski different, mom? How come you stay in the water?” That wonderful feeling of your faith in me has stayed with me.
You gave me so much in those short 3 and 1\2 years and whenever I’m sad and missing you (which is often) I remember your favorite song. It was called, “Make Room For a Rainbow Inside” (from the Rainbow Brite Dolls) Your Dad and I will never forget our memories of you singing along with the record in your room as you played it over and over and over.
As I recall the words, I feel you left us a message. It starts out:
Whenever my happy smile turns upside down,
I know how to turn my troubles around
I feel the yellow sunshine warming my skin,
I open my eyes and let the green in,
And breathe the silver and blue of the sky,
And I have a rainbow inside.
So now when I am feeling down I look for the beauty in this world around me. I feel the sun’s warmth on my face and let my eyes feast upon the brilliant colors of fall and admire the peaceful beauty of falling snow. And I experience the simple joy of being alive. That which is now denied my precious first born. And I don’t think of yesterday - or tomorrow. I live today. And you are with me, my Kelly. I carry you with me always as YOU are MY rainbow inside. For always!
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