In January of 2005, we got the good news that we were
expecting our 1st child. Before we even started trying, we educated
ourselves on proper care and nutrition during pregnancy. Numerous
times during the pregnancy, people would tell us that we were going
overboard and being too paranoid, but for us, it is just common
sense to take every precaution. Every checkup confirmed a healthy
low risk pregnancy.
On August 17, we went out to dinner for my mom’s
birthday. After getting home my wife Pam was doing kick counts to
monitor fetal movements. We were supposed to count 10 movements
within 2 hrs. Up until this point it only took about 5 mins to count
ten movements. We only felt a few kicks but we were able to hear a
steady heartbeat. About 6:00 the next morning, exactly 1 month from
the due date, we called our nurse midwife and she told us we needed
to go to Shands at AGH in Gainesville, FL to be put on a fetal
monitor. She was on the monitor for a couple hours. At first they
said it was probably nothing but they wanted to keep monitoring her
until they recorded some movement. Around 10:30 I called my boss and
told him that I would probably be back at work by lunch. Not more
than 5 minutes after that the nurse came in and told us that the
doctor would be in shortly to talk to us and that he would probably
want to do an emergency c-section. Within minutes we were going into
the surgery room. It all happened so fast we barely had time to
think.
As they were doing the surgery we held hands tightly,
both of us anxious and scared to death. After they pulled our son
out, it was obvious that something was wrong. They took him straight
to a table and started yelling code pink and within seconds there
were 10 to 15 people gathered around trying to save our son.
Although it was probably a short period of time, it felt like hours
before they were able to get a heartbeat and even then he was unable
to breathe on his own. During this time, Pam was still undergoing
surgery and was behind a small curtain and unable to see what was
going on. One of the permanently etched memories in my mind was the
complete horror and confusion on her face as she squeezed my hand
tighter and looked into my eyes for an answer to what was happening,
but I didn't have one. That was a feeling of helplessness I have never
before felt. Once they got a heartbeat and put him on a breathing
machine there was almost a short sense of relief before the reality
set in that something is still seriously wrong. They transferred us
to a room where the two of us cried on each others shoulders and
tried to make sense of the situation. Not long after we got to the
room our families started arriving. At this point, I don’t think
they knew what was going on but as they came in they instantly knew
something was seriously wrong. Only once before had I ever seen
someone with more despair and sorrow in their eyes and that was
about 20 minutes prior in the operating room. To this day I
sometimes close my eyes and these vivid pictures are all I can see.
Those images will likely haunt me forever. After filling our family in with
the little info we had the doctor came in and told us that our son
was being transferred to Shands at University of Florida. We decided
that my family would go with me to the main hospital with our son
and Pam’s family would stay with her. Being separated at that time
was hard but we really had no choice.
When we walked into the waiting room of the NICU someone in my
family went up to the desk to let them know we were there. I just
remember walking in, leaning my back against the wall, and sliding
down until I was sitting on the floor with my head between my knees.
Very soon after, we were brought back to a private waiting room.
A couple of doctors came in along
with a social worker. Our son’s chest was filled up with fluid and
it prevented his lungs from developing. At this point, they were not
sure of the cause, but they were sure he had no chance of survival.
He could either pass away in the NICU hooked up to machines or they
would
bring him in so he could spend the final moments of his life
with family. The
strength and support I got from my family was the
only thing preventing me from a complete mental breakdown.
At one point all of my family except for my father stepped out of
the room so they could talk to the hospital staff. With tear filled
eyes I lifted my head and ask my father where to find strength to
make it through. He replied “I don’t know son”. It made me realize
that he as well as my whole family was searching for the same thing.
I don’t know were they found the strength but they did, because
every ounce of strength I found was through them. They lifted me up
and told me that we would get through it together. Soon the social
worker brought him into the room with us.
I can’t
even begin to describe what it feels like holding your 7lb 3oz 1st
born child in your arms for the
1st time knowing it will be your
last. After he passed, Shands worked it out so that I could ride in
an ambulance back to the hospital where Pam was so she could
have a chance to hold him. The ride back was surreal. Although I am
sure people were staring and normal hospital business was going on
as usual, walking through the hospital was like walking into a world
where time had stopped. Other than me nothing moved or made a sound.
It was like walking through a photograph. I got to the room and
handed our son to Pam. We both looked at him and
he just seemed
so perfect. At this point we had not yet named him. We had several
names in mind one of which was after my Dad’s brother who died as an
infant. Another was after my brother-in-law which along with their
parents gave Pam support through the time that we were separated.
Wayland Clay Touchton is the name we decided on. We had been trying
to decide for months and
when
it came down to it we decided within 30 seconds. After our families
got a chance to hold Wayland we were left with a final couple of
minutes alone with him. Letting go and handing him back to the
hospital staff knowing that it would be the last time we would ever
see him was truly heartbreaking. At this point we had been through
so much that the next few hours were a blur. One of the next things
I can remember is talking with Pam that night after everyone else
had left. People usually deal with tragedy in different ways but Pam
and I were on the same page. Neither one of us were mad at God. Both
of us felt that everything happens for a reason but also recognized
that we would never know or understand that reason. Every life has a
purpose and Wayland’s will be carried out through the lives he
touched.
The next few days were
hard. Our families stayed at our side every day we were there.
During one of
my walks down the hall to the ice machine I overheard a family down
on the other end talking and laughing. They had a healthy baby
earlier that day. I paused for a second and was relieved that their
baby was healthy. Hearing them was like peeking into a window at the
experience we looked so forward to, but would not have. There is no
contrast greater than the emotions at the opposite ends of the hall
on that day. I remember thinking “this is what it is supposed to be
like”. That night I imagined us in that other room and could almost
picture our family in joy and celebration had things went better.
Although ready to go home and sick of the hospital, the
doctors and staff at Shands were great.
They pretty much left half of the whole wing to our family. Whether
it be pain medication or a shoulder to cry on, whenever we needed
anything they were right there.
When we finally got home,
our house had been cleaned, yard mowed, and refrigerator stocked. It
was a very strange feeling coming home from the hospital to a house
with a full nursery and no baby. Having family that did so much
really helped. In the week leading up to the funeral we finally made
calls to concerned friends. We wanted to talk to them before but
couldn’t gather the strength. It is strange how you feel you can
keep it together and make a call and not 5 seconds later break down and can’t get one word out. I don’t even have the words to describe
the funeral. The whole time I
stared over at Wayland’s picture
which
sat beside a candle burning in a holder that said “hope” that a
friend had given us. As Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven played, I
prayed to God for strength and promised Wayland that he will never
be forgotten and that his influence will be seen in everything we
do. Although the funeral provided some closure, it was very
emotionally draining.
I took off work a little over 3 weeks. Although still
grieving, I thought I was ready to go back to work. This would prove
to be very difficult. I still felt like I was walking through the
hospital carrying my son, only it wasn’t quiet, the world hadn’t
stopped, I had totally changed but the rest of the world had not
changed a bit. Life tasted very stale and the only place I wanted to
be was back home with Pam. I kept it together all day but I lost it
on the way home. I was not ready to get back to reality but I had to
suck it up and keep moving forward. All of my coworkers at LCCC were great
and made the transition as easy as possible under the circumstances.
About a month after we lost our son, we were called in
to get the preliminary results. Wayland had Down syndrome and
congenital chylothorax (he was missing the thoracic duct). We asked
for more information, but they said that there were only 3 reported
cases. I have tried researching the issue and I can find some info
on congenital chylothorax but no cases where there is an absence of
the thoracic duct. It is frustrating when the answer you have waited
for proposes more questions. We talked to a geneticist and,
thankfully, it is not hereditary. We are now getting involved with
and helping raise money for the March of Dimes and will walk in his
name every year. Also, we set up a memorial fund at Shands NICU in
his name. For birthdays and holidays we will always make a donation.
These are just a couple of ways we are keeping him present in our
lives.
To our family, friends, co-workers, Shands staff, and everyone
who makes a donation in our sons name we thank you. Your support
through this time will never be forgotten.
8 - 18 - 05
