Okay so here's the deal... Way back in 1992 my wife at the time was pregnant, but only around 4 months. I don't know if she didn't want to tell me, or if she was afraid that I would get mad (She was crazy by the way, no lie), either way I did not know about it.
So it's around 4pm one day, We were watching TV and she decided to go to bed, she said she felt bad. She went to the bedroom, and I continued watching TV.
An hour or so later she began to yell for me, but not a normal yell, I could tell right away something was wrong. I ran into the bedroom, she was sitting up, but there was blood everywhere. It looked like a murder scene, I was totally freaked out.. I asked what had happened and that is when she told me she was pregnant and something had went wrong.
I grabbed her up in my arms, ran to the living room, got the keys to the car and carried her outside. As we drove I wanted to ask so many questions but she was in pain and screaming, so I did my best to calm her down.
Needless to say I made the 30 minute trip to the hospital in about 11 minutes. We got there, I grabbed her from the car and took her inside while yelling "She's having a baby!" Nurses came and helped me get her to a wheelchair, and they took off with her and I didn't hear from her or the doctor for around an hour.
When they did come out, they told me I had a son, and that my wife was resting, but I could go in and see her. I went in and she looked rough, but was awake. I still had so many things I wanted to say, but that was not the time. In a few minutes they told me I could come see him and I was more than ecstatic to do so..
They took me back to a little room where they had him in an incubator. He was so small, just the size to fit in your hand.. I sat in there with him for quite a while crying and praying for him and for my wife.
Once my wife was able to visit him I went to get her and we came back. They let me hold him, and feed him, he was so small they didn't have diapers, or a little beanie to fit him, he was adorable though.
So as we went through the evening, they ran tests on him over and over, looking for things that may be wrong since he was so premature and then there was the dreaded moment the came and told me his lungs weren't fully developed and he would have to be sent to another hospital 3 hours away because they were not equipped to handle this type of situation. Which you have to remember I was born and raised in this little town of hillbillies and rednecks. We were 20 years behind the times in this town of about 3,000 people.
They told me this other hospital could help him, but they had to send for an ambulance from that other town to ours which is 3 hours to us and then 3 hours back, and that mean oxygen from his lungs would be making its way to his blood stream for the next 6 hours. In my heart I could just feel this situation was far to dire, though that didn't stop me from hoping.
So for those next 6 hours I held him, I kissed him, I fed him and listen to him cry. I wanted to soak him up as much as I could because I though it may be the only time I get with him.
The ambulance from the other hospital finally arrived, so they had to take him from me and get him ready to go.. I gave him one last kiss, and told him how much I loved him.
As they got him ready, I got myself ready because I was going to be heading to that same hospital as soon as I talked with my wife and got myself together. I went into her room, we talked for a while, I told her my plans to go to the other hospital, and that I would keep everyone updated.
As I started to walk out, a doctor came into our room and gave me the bad news. The oxygen that was making its way into his bloodstream had given him a heart attack, and they tried to revive him and couldn't. At first I couldn't believe it, I fell to the ground and I yelled, screamed, and cried like a mad man.
Once everyone got me under some sort of control, they asked did I want to see him one more time. I said yes of course.. They came in carrying his lifeless body, wrapped in a small blanket and handed him over to me. I began to cry, or maybe sob because the tears fell like a waterfall. I didn't want to let go, it just didn't seem real, only moments ago it seemed, I had help him, listened to him cry, he would grab my finger and hold on, how could he not be alive now..
They took him after that, we had a funeral service a day or so later, then buried him at the family grave site.
I know I didn't have him long, and I also know that the story I tell about what happened is mired in sadness, disbelief and distorted by my rage and depression. From that day till way after the funeral, it was like I was looking at everything through a rain covered window.
So I miss him, but will never forget him and one day, I truly believe, I will see him again <3