I will (or hope) never forget that moment. She came in and sat right down and asked our guests to leave. I immediately said, "They are the Godparents, they can stay to hear anything you have to say." "Are you sure?" she asked me.
Not a single one of us in that room was in any way prepared to hear what she was about it say.
Basically she said, "Your baby's testicle twisted when it was descending from his body and died. We're afraid the other one is also in jeopardy. I have ordered the ambulance. He needs to have emergency surgery at Children's Hospital as soon as possible."
I remember feeling shocked. People throw the word 'shocked' around all the time. However, I was actually shocked. Speechless and soon unconsolable. We're at REGIONS! How can YOU not help him?! I remember clearly, she moved from across the room right to my bedside and said, "I wouldn't let them do this surgery on my baby here and you wouldn't either."
And so it was. Mark and I immediately were handed a form on a clipboard and we both signed. I guarantee neither of us read a word through our tear filled eyes.
She asked if I wanted to be a checked in as a patient at United or if I'd like to discharge myself as a parent. I felt like it was a trick question. I gave birth about six hours ago and am fully aware I can't lift my right leg. I said, "I definitely need to be a patient." Even though all my thoughts were about my baby I knew I needed to be a patient myself.
Mark, Molly, Brian and I started packing stuff asking each other what should go here, there, etc. Less than five minutes later the pediatrician came back in to let me know ACTUALLY my options were to stay at Regions (BY MYSELF) or AMA discharge myself and go with my baby.
This is when shit got really interesting. I just about lost it. My memories aren't that clear. Between the adrenaline, lack of sleep and stress, I was one mess. I was saying, "I can't believe it. I can't believe this is happening to us," over and over.
My memories of the next 10 minutes are very random. Molly left the room to speak medical with the nurses/doctor. Brian was extremely, What can I do to help? And he was really helpful. I was dancing a fine line between psycho and trying to stick with reality. I remember telling him to grab this, that, this that. He did everything we asked. I put my maternity clothes back on from the night before.
Of course I pretty much said, "I'm outta here!" and signed the form. Although I was actually thinking, I don't get it. I'm just supposed to leave? Nobody walks very much 6 hours after having a baby and now they're making me leave?! I knew I'd do whatever it took, but in the back of my mind I was saying You've GOT to be kidding me!
Not minutes later - everything happened so so very fast - a group of four people showed up with an incubator and tons of wire on wheels.
They rolled in and my heart sank. They started hooking my little baby up to tons of wires and lifting him into this machine. And putting 'seat' belts around him. This I remember clearly: I said I wanted to go in the ambulance and they said I couldn't. I said, "THEN HE IS". They denied us both and I was beyond defeated. No tears. No words. They won. I lost. After all of this, strangers were taking my baby away from me. I fought it a bit. Maybe I knew it was best. Maybe I was delirious. For a strange moment I thought it was them against us. This baby who I'd only seen for a few short hours was now being taken away. I really didn't even know what he looked like. I was actually nervous we weren't going to get the same baby back. (Mark later pointed out - we'd have to get the baby with the "bad ball.")
They wouldn't let me have a wheel chair since I was AMA. So I started walking down the hall very slowly. I kept telling Molly and Brian and Mark we had to go faster because I wanted to be at the hospital when he got there so he wasn't alone. Even though I was the slow one I kept telling them we had to go faster. We finally got to the minivan. If I wanted to pretend something wasn't wrong with me this far, this was the final moment I realized, Oh my God, I am hurt. I literally could not for the life of me, get my right leg to lift. Mark had to come around and actually lift it in for me to get in the minivan.
Mark was trying to figure out how to get to Children's Hospital and I was going through Kleenex after Kleenex sobbing. He would ask me a question and I would respond, "I think so." Because I didn't have a clue.
My baby. My poor little brand new baby. Surgery? Putting him under? He's brand new! How can this be happening to us? What if our little baby doesn't make it? How will I survive? I was in my thoughts and it was dangerous.
Mark got us there in about seven minutes. We are blessed to have one of the best Children's Hospitals in the WORLD in our city. I swear, that's why God made us have the baby at Regions rather than St. John's so we'd be closer.
I couldn't even get out of the car, even though that's all I wanted to do. We walked to the elevator, down the hall, to the next hall. I started leaning against the walls. I was trying to get to my infant. My newborn who had just come out of me. There was nothing more than I wanted to get to him...but my body was shutting down. The pain was one thing, but I literally could not make my right leg move. Mark ended up 'stealing' a wheel chair and we were suddenly racing down the hall.
Next thing I knew we were in the same waiting room we were in when Christian had his tonsils removed less than two months earlier. However, this time, it was a Sunday and nobody was around. We were quickly moved back to Brecken to say good-bye. They even let Molly and Brian back with us. I remember being embarrassed about being in a wheel chair. I remember my lips touching his face. I remember my tears streaming down my face. I remember looking up at Mark as he wheeled me out and even though he had tears in his eyes, he said, "He'll be fine. Trust me. He'll be fine. Ok?" I just cried.
Molly and Brian some how (miraculously) got us Jimmy John's in the middle of all this. I still don't know how. They got a variety and let us both pick first. I kept saying I wasn't hungry and they all kept saying I had to eat. I picked one and a nurse walked by and whispered, "Good friends bring food." I will never forget that. Because that was the best thing they could have possibly have done for us at that time. We spent that time eating, talking about how cute and precious Brecken is and even a couple laughs.
I remember I had to go to the bathroom and could barely walk from the wheelchair to the toilet. Even though I just had to get out of the wheelchair and back in, I was a mess.
One nurse wheeled a bed out for me. I laid down. Molly pulled over a little table and laid out some magazines for me. She pulled her chair right up to the side of the bed. I remember looking at her showing me something in a magazine (doing her best to take my mind off everything that was happening) and I actually thought, "Thank God she is here."
Less than an hour later he was out of surgery. The surgeon pulled a chair right up to my bedside. He said, "This is a travesty. Just a travesty." ...... He removed the dead testicle and put a couple stitches in the other to hold it still, but it also had twisted and there was the possibility it, too, would die. He went over what that would mean in his future.
I stared into his eyes..I was thinking.... I didn't drink caffeine...I got sleep....I took my prenatals... I ate my vegetables....how? why? is this happening to me?!?! I wanted to sit up and scream. But I pretended to listen.. but really knew Molly was listening.
Molly and Brian were allowed in to say good-bye before he was taken to the NICU. We quickly said thank you to Molly and Brian as they left. But I remember thinking they will NEVER know how thankful we really are to them.
Then Brecken was off to the NICU.