†Ethan's House†
Our Angel.....

Rhys
05-15-97 to 05-19-97

Rhys was born with an almost always fatal heart defect called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. His case was unusual because it went undected until after his death. He only had half of his heart, the right side, which is only responsible for pumping blood to the lungs and back. It did the job for the whole body for four days until it gave out. He had no symptoms, he was very strong and apparently healthy. He just got tired and wouldn't eat. We took him back to the hospital after Jim changed his diaper and there was blood in it. He stopped breathing in the E.R., and he arrested several times before the doctor could not bring him back anymore. We buried him exactly a week after his birth.

My pregnancy with Rhys was pretty uneventful. I had bad morning sickness for the first couple of months, and then in December, I contracted a chronic cough that lasted until after he was born. He was an active baby. I will never forget the first time I felt him move--it was December 3, 1996. And then in Janurary, I woke up from a nap, and watched in wonder as my belly moved all around. I used to joke that he was moving furniture in there. When Rhys was born, he weighed 8 lbs., 6 oz., and was 21-1/2 inches long. He loved to nurse, but was always getting his hands in the way!! Daddy would hold his hands while Mommy got him latched on. He loved to snuggle against Daddy's bare chest. He loved to try and stand with Daddy holding him, and he would always try to control his head. He had downy hair which I loved to stroke, and eyes that were bright and dark at the same time, like stars. I am thankful for the time we had with him, and grateful for the memories. But I miss him, and I shouldn't have to. He is our best boy forever, and we love him.


Since Rhys, I am more aware of Death. I am terrified of losing Jim. I am also more aware it seems of all the babies around. I can't get away from them. I appreciate things more, but still, it has changed me in ways I cannot comprehend. I don't like it.

It's rough on our family. Rhys was the first grandchild, the first great-grandchild, the first everything. The family was devastated when he died. Now most of the family seems to pretend he never existed, and they seem to think that I should too. I don't know if they really think that, or if they just act as though they do. Either way, it really doesn't matter, the result is the same. No one wants to say his name. No one wants to remember with me, except Jim.

I am doing okay now, I think. My husband seems to be doing okay. I don't know about anyone else, because no one wants to talk about him or how he affected all of us. It makes me mad, because everyone wanted him, and was looking forward to him. My friend, Dallas, he is just the best. He visits the cemetary every week without fail. He got Rhys a Christmas present, and displays his pictures prominently in his home, and every chance he gets he shows the one he carries in his wallet. We are doing okay, most of the time, and that is the best we can hope for.

The holidays were hard. I couldn't just hide this year, because my grandfather has terminal cancer, and I wanted to be there for him, at his last Christmas. We picked a child's name from a Giving Tree, a nine-month-old named Brandon, and bought gifts for him. I think that helped a little. We also got a little stocking for Rhys and put his name on it in gold glitter and hung it in the cemetary. We put a little Tigger figurine in it (Rhys was supposed to be Tigger for Halloween). I think Tigger will always bring thoughts of Rhys. I don't know about birthdays or anniversaries, since I haven't reached that point yet. I do plan on his birthday, though, to take a balloon bouquet to the hospital where he was born, and have them give it to the baby boy born closest to 9:25 a.m. on May 15.

TALK. Get it out. Get it out in any way possible. Allow yourself YOUR time to grieve. Don't let ANYONE tell you when you should be better, or worse, be over it. You will never be over it. I write, and it helps to share some of what I write with other bereaved parents. And someday, when you are healed enough, I found that helping other parents helped me too.

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