Noah's team...

He is always on my mind.  I see him, reminders of him, everywhere I look.  Maybe its always going to be that way and in someways I hope it is.  I just hope the pain that is associated with the constant reminders, turns to joy, to comfort, to signs from him that he is okay.

In the final hours we had with Noah, I told him it was okay to let go.  I told him he didn't need to fight anymore, for he was an amazingly strong fighter.  The doctors, nurses and respiratory therapists, they all said it.  Even though they gave him medication after medication to calm him, to sedate him so he could rest easily, our little tough guy would continue to move his arms and legs and reach upward.   My mom said she thinks it was because Noah was reaching up to Heaven.

When I knew it was time to let him go, my heart shattered into pieces, but it became my determination that I didn't not want him to suffer.  I stayed by his bedside as much as I could, I stroked his tiny precious hand, or made the sign of the cross on his beautiful forehead.  His skin was so perfect despite all the "accessories" he had coming from him, sustaining his life.  He smelled so precious, I hold onto that smell like a climber holds onto the side of a cliff.

As I stood by his bedside, I sang, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" the song I had regularly sang to him on the way too and from work.  I prayed the Lords prayer, and I repeated endlessly, I love you Noah James... mommy loves you more than you'll ever know."  I had a life time of I Love You's to share in just a few hours.  I told him about all the dreams we had for things we wanted to do together, for the hopes we had for him and how great our life was going to be together.  And after telling him all those wishes, I told him again... "Its okay to let go."

"Noah, mommy wants you to stay with us more than anything, but the Lord is calling you home. When you get to Heaven, Grandma Virginia and Grandma Hazel will be waiting  Let them take care of you, and go be with the Lord.  Noah, Mommy's not sure how we (your daddy, your siblings, and me your mommy) are going to get through this.... I am not sure.  And so Mommy needs you to send me a sign, tell me you are okay.  Please watch over us and send me signs.... I'll watch for rainbows like God gave Noah in the bible.  Can that be our sign?  Please Noah, Mommy won't be able to go on without knowing you are okay.  Mommy loves you so much.  Its okay to go."

Those are the words I spoke to him and begged of him. When the time had come, and all the wires were disconnected, his favorite nurse Melanie and Dr. Hamburg handed me our baby.  As he was pressed up against my chest, Jarrett and I held him as he took his final breath and his heart slowly stopped.  Hearing his heartbeat was one of the first things we got to do when we found out we were pregnant with him.  His heart was so strong, so powerful and so so loving.  It was calming then that as we started listening to his heartbeat as he was first forming inside of me, that his nurse Miss Mel let us listen to his heartbeat fading... beating calmly and slowly, telling us good bye.  While peaceful as we prayed it would be, the tears and heartache unbearable to feel, were comforted only slightly by the feeling he was in a better place, with no pain, no struggles, just love, peace and eternal rest.

After Noah's passing, the medical team let us have some final moments with him.  They were so gentle, compassionate and supportive of us.  They moved us and our parents (who were there by our side throughout the entire time) and let us have an entire pod to ourselves.  We sat in the room dimly lit with Noah, our parents, Jarrett and I and cried.  We sobbed, we admired our beautiful baby that had gone on before us, even though that's not the way its suppose to be.  The doctors and nurses that had cared for Noah came in to share in our grief and to mourn with us.  Dr. Hamburg came in first and shared what she liked most about Noah...She said she had never seen a baby with a more premature face and that he was a fighter through and through.  She took off his tiny booties they had put on him and looked at his feet, saying "He got his feet from Dad."  She then wrapped him back up and said, "My little lifesaver."

The first day I met Dr. Hamburg it was right after lunch and as most days these last three weeks, if we ate at all, it was something quick  and on the run, so I had grabbed a taco on my way to the hospital. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Dr. Hamburg I realized my breath was probably not the greatest so I apologized. She smiled, and said, "My dear, that's why I have a lifesaver, because I just had lunch."  Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a lifesaver, extending it to me, saying, "You can have my last one." .  I smiled, took her offering and said, "thank you." From that moment, I loved Dr. Hamburg, her first gesture of kindness just like the rest... she treated us like her family.  That night when I went home I stopped at the store and bought her a new bag of lifesavers.  I wrote her a thank you note and told her I thought she would be Noah's lifesaver and how grateful we were for her.   The next early morning I left her lifesavers and the card on her desk in her office.  Dr. Hamburg was one of Noah's great doctors and we prayed for her to be working every shift.  On Wednesday early morning when Noah's health took a turn for the worse, I begged God for the 7 am shift change and prayed Dr. Hamburg, Camilia, Miss Mel and Becky would be on, for they were all some of Noah's best caregivers.  The doctor that had been caring for Noah had told Jarrett and I it was time to give up and to let him go.  We were not ready to believe that.

One of our answered prayers came that morning when Dr. Hamburg rushed into Noah's bedside, gave me a hug and said, "I just got here and heard, I'm going to get updated on whats happened and I'll be right back." Within a few minutes she was by Noah's bedside, giving orders, taking charge and doing everything she could to assist him in fighting, it was clear... Dr. Hamburg was NOT ready to give up on him.  By this time, the team had tried to clear out Pod D not only to give us and our family more space by his bedside, but I think to keep the other babies away from the extra noise and chaos that was in Pod D, bedside 50... Noah's bed.  That entire day Dr. Hamburg did everything she could to help him, stopped at his bedside about every 10 minutes to get an update from the nurses, but always leaning over his bed, touching his tummy, his head, or his hand, and she always talked to him. She'd tell him what they were doing and what she needed him to do.  As helpless as we felt as his parents, watching her work, we felt she was doing for us what we wanted to do, if only we knew how.  Sadly, while Noah showed small improvements, Dr. Hamburg did not see the results she, Jarrett, our family and I hoped for, and by the end of her shift (she extended because of our baby) she walked up to the side of his bed, stroked the fine hair on his precious head and she said, "Well Noah, I've thought of everything I could to turn these things around... I'm not sure what else to do except this...  she reached into her pocked and pulled out a lifesaver... and she set it on the blanket next to him.  

That's why she called him her little lifesaver.  Dr. Hamburg will always be special to us.

Back in Pod A, the next visitor who came to share in our grief was Lauren.  Lauren was one of Noah's nurses who we connected to over similar experiences.  Lauren had walked the footsteps of the NICU like we did as a parent, but thanks to God she had one of the stories we held onto for hope.  Laurent walked out of the NICU with her baby to take home.  I remember sitting in the chair next to Lauren as she shared her story, her bubbly spirit gave me hope that beyond the constant worry the NICU brings, there was life of happiness, of humor, of success.  When Lauren walked into Pod A, in street clothes with a NICU jacket over top, I realized she hadn't' been there to work. With tears in her eyes, mine met hers, we embraced, and she said how sorry she was.  She explained she had called into see how Noah was and hear of the new, she said she had to come in to say goodbye.  Noah's life touched many people outside the NICU, but also many inside.  Hearing how many nurses called into check on him while they were off duty, how many wanted to be his primary nurse, how many cared for our family, makes me so proud to be Noah's mommy.  Lauren stayed by us for a while, holding him and caressing his tiny, soft cheek.  We laughed, we cried together, we hugged again.  Lauren will always hold a special place in my heart because of who she is, how she cared and because of our love for Noah.

Camilia was the next person to walk into our private Pod, just as we were talking about her.  We were singing her praises and as she walked in we asked her if her ears were burning.  Camilia's impact on our lives started early in our NICU journey.  Sadly all the days blur together now, but I will always remember Camila because she began her relationship with us, with Noah, not with medicine but with love.  She walked into Noah's pod talked to Noah like he was the best person in the whole world, and greeted us the same, because we were his parents.... I'm sure she did it to all her patients but in that moment, we felt like we were.  Camila always took the time to explain to us exactly what tests they were doing, she showed us the results, walked us through all his x-rays and called me on my phone to discuss.  She always greeted us with a hug, left us with a hug and told us what a pleasure it was to care for our son.  Back to that early morning when I prayed for Noah's A team to be on duty, Camila came running into the pod, went immediately to the left side of Noah's bed, gave me the tightest, warmest hug I had had in hours, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, said, "I just got in and heard about Noah's turn... I'm so sorry. I was off for a few days, he had been doing so well.  I'm so sorry."  In that moment, she was there as someone who loved Noah, not a medical professional.

Later that morning after she had been briefed on all the things they had done for Noah, she came, sat next to Jarrett, I and our parents.  She sat in between us, held my hand, and cried with us.  I knew what she was doing, by this point I had already realized it was time.  Jarrett, being the cancer survivor when the odds were NOT in his favor, wasn't ready to give up, even though the odds for Noah's survival were not in our favor either.  Camila explained everything they had done and she graciously, delicately and honestly shared her opinion, that it was time to let him go.  I don't recall the exact words, I think that's a person's mind protecting one's heart, but it was clear where we were in the process.  The way she explained it gave us understanding, and it gave Jarrett the reassurance he needed that we had done everything... everything we could to have saved our son.  To our great heartache, God had a different calling for Noah.

Camila's love and gentle approach that had been present with her to our precious Noah, to us, was there at the end too.  When she walked into that pod A, she embraced our son without all the wires and tubes and she swooped him up into her arms.  She smiled at him like he was the most precious baby she had ever seen.  She kissed his forehead and thanked him for being such a fighter.  Then she turned to Jarrett and I and asked, "What do you love most about him?"  Jarrett and I weren't sure how to answer, I don't think we had taken the time to find what we loved most, we loved all.  She then asked, "What's your favorite feature of his?"  She continued by going on to identify all the features Noah got from Jarrett and what he got from me.  She said Noah had Daddy's hair and hairline, and his feed.  She then looked at me and said, "Noah has mommy's nose, lips and the shape of his eyes."  She then went onto say how about his ears.  Some babies are special in that they actually get one of mommy's ears and one of daddy's."  We then went to look at Noah's ears and to our surprise we found out Noah was one of those special babies, his right ear was Daddy's and his left was Mommy's.  I'm so thankful Camila took the time to point out Noah's features.  Given that he was our first biological child, one of the things Jarrett and I looked forward to most was getting to see how a child of our own blood would look.  In the chaos of what has been these last few weeks, we never really took the time to stop and think about it.  Camila helped us to remember and we will always be thankful for that.  Camila is one of God's people, and we will always love her.

The other person in the room with us throughout the final moments we had with Noah was our beloved Melanie.  In our days in the NICU so many people grew places in our heart.  Miss Melanie not only grew a place in our heart, she grew into our family.  Miss Melanie cared for our Noah, her Boo Bear, like she was his mother.  Where I couldn't help to know what to do for our son, Miss Mel did. She loved him from day one and she loved us the same.  Our connection was instant and I knew within minutes of meeting her I wanted her to be one of Noah's primary nurses.  Melanie and I connected on ways beyond the NICU.  Our conversations seemed to be that friends for many years would have.  She asked about us, she wanted to know, she cared.  On the second to the last day of Noah's life, I sat in the chair on the carpet path running through the pod, as I watched them change Noah's lines.  Next to me was our parents and there were people all throughout his bed space.  I stared straight ahead as the thought of guilt ran wildly throughout my body.  I feel guilt for not being able to carry Noah longer, I feel guilt that I did something wrong to cause this, I felt guild that I had gone home that night from 11:30-3 and that he had taken a turn for the worse when I was gone... the feelings of guilt running wild as I sat stone face, watching them do what they could to save my son.  When Melanie finished changing out the lines, she walked up to me, touched my shoulder and said, "Mom, can I talk to you for a few minutes."   I of course jumped up thinking she was going to give me an update on Noah's care, and followed her out of the pod.  We walked down the hall a few steps, she stopped. faced me, leaned in and looked straight into my eye.  She said, "Angie, I know we've only known each other a short amount of time, but I know exactly what you are thinking.  This is not your fault, you cannot feel guilt.  You did not do anything to cause Noah's sickness.  I need you to push those feelings out of your mind.... this is NOT your fault."  I'm not sure how she knew what I was thinking but she shared words with me that were exactly what I needed to hear.  She then called Dr. Hamburg over to reinforce the message she had just given me.

Moments like this with Melanie were constant, she knew just what to say, how to support and love us.  Melanie gave Noah his final bath and dressed him in a perfect sailor outfit for his final moments with us.  When it was finally time to walk out of that NICU for the final time, the only reason why I was able to do it was because of Melanie.  I know where Noah's body was going, and it killed me, it did.  I asked Melanie to embrace him close, to kiss him goodbye for me and to tell him how much I loved him.  I knew she would do it and that if it couldn't be me there to tell him goodbye, I wanted it to be her.  Noah loved her.  Later that night, Melanie texted me and told me she had done just what I asked.  She said, "Angie words can not express how grateful I am to have been a part of this journey with your precious Noah and his amazing family.  My heart was so heavy throughout the night as I thought about you and your amazing family.  I creid until daylight just praying for you all.  I've had many patients over the years who've touched my life leaving tiny footprints in my heart.  Noah left a much bigger impact! I kept my promise to you, hugging and kissing your precious son when I went to the morgue.  I held him close, telling him how much his mommy and daddy loved him, what  blessing he was and to watch over you and your family.  I also told him how strong he had been, such a fighter. I reminded him to please send rainbows your way, he's still with you. I let him know how much I love him and how much joy he brought to so many in his life.  Thank you for allowing me to care your for miracle; it was an honor!  Love you all"  I mean, what other words are there for such a wonderful woman.  I love Melanie like she's my sister.

There are so many people in the NICU that were wonderful, we will never forget them.  I told Jarrett, losing Noah is our greatest loss, but also not getting to go back and see the team that cared for him is like suffering another loss.  We've been back to the NICU a few times since Noah's passing and I can't help but feel so much comfort being there.  I understand it is hard for some parents to ever go back and yet, I feel like its' one of the only places I want to be.  Yesterday morning after I shared how I was feeling, Jarrett and I took thank you cards and some food up to the team there.  Just as we were greeted in our first minute at the NICU we were greeted the same way again.  With loving embraces and sincere care.  The NICU at Banner Dessert Medical Center will always be a safe and loving place to me.  While it is the location of my greatest loss, it is also the place where we found the greatest support and love.

Noah's team of care providers was exceptional to say the least.  I will always love them and always be thankful for them.

Until next time,
Angie

PS:  Thank you for the supportive messages sent after my post yesterday.  It was raw, it was hard for me to write and to share, but it was how I feel.  I appreciate the support.