Five Days

Five days, who could imagine that five days could change your life forever, could put doubt and fear into your bones that you never thought to be possible.

As I held you in my arms for the first time, your mother still anesthetised from the caesarean, I wept with joy. I was delighted that you entered my world! You were the missing link to making my life complete. You were so small, you fit in one of my arms.

As they took you to put you on oxygen in an incubator, fear crossed my door. I hadn’t heard word of your mother yet, so I walked with you into the paediatric intensive care. They shooed me out of the room as they connected tubes and wires to your tiny body. I cried into my cupped hands and lent against the wall beside the door. I was trying to get my head around you being so small. The crying turned to sobs and I ended up on my honkers, my back to the wall, eventually letting gravity take effect and sat there crying.

‘Mr Bishop?’ I heard and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and got up so quickly I got light headed and had to steady myself.

‘Yes!’ I replied, ‘is there any news on Karen?’

‘Why don’t we go into this little side room where we can sit!’

My stomach felt like a ten-ton boulder had been dropped in it. They don’t ask you into a side room with good news! I kept reminding myself to breathe as I was led down a long, narrow corridor and into the second door on the left.

The room was comforting. It had a couch and two armchairs. I chose to sit in one of the armchairs, my stomach feeling queasy. I knew what was coming but needed to hear the words come out of the mouth of the professionals.

‘I’m afraid….’

My brain switched off and I heard nothing else except,

‘……and unfortunately, she died!’

I looked for a bin. I was about to be sick. The doctor handed me one that sat to the right of the couch. I expelled the contents of my stomach…and then some.

When there was nothing left but bile, I looked at the doctor, tears clouding my vision.

‘She’s dead?’ I blurted out a bit louder than I had wanted.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so!’

‘But how?’

‘Like I said, we just couldn’t get the bleeding under control and no matter how many units we pumped into her, she…...’

‘She’s gone….’ I looked into the distance and remembered holding you, my baby girl for the first time…Karen will never get to experience that magical feeling.

‘Preeclampsia brings with it a lot of issues, and unfortunately for Karen she…died!’ The doctor bowed his head sympathetically which I appreciated but suddenly my mind went to you, my baby.

‘What about my little girl?’ I said with urgency.

‘She is two months premature and in heart failure. She needs a heart transplant in order to survive.’ The doctor stopped as I gasped as if it was my last breath.

‘Her body weight is very low, even for a baby born at 30 weeks…’ he explained, ‘…normally a baby at that stage of development would be near three pounds, but your baby is only two and a half….it might not seem much of a difference but it makes her heart smaller and shows that she wasn’t thriving in the womb.’

I shook my head like a dog trying to take it all in.

‘So you’re saying my wife is dead, my baby is too small, that she needs a heart transplant and ultimately probably won’t make it either?’ I asked with clarity.

‘Yes, unfortunately that is what I’m saying!’ the doctor bowed his head again. ‘Your baby, being the weight she is, might never live to receive a new heart that will fit into her tiny chest cavity. It’s just going to be a waiting game I’m afraid.’

And with that the doctor left, the nurse closely on his heels, leaving me alone to take in what he just said.

Eventually, I exited the room and demanded to be able to sit with you. They set up a comfortable chair right next to your incubator. I had never seen something more precious in my life.

‘Hi little one!’ I introduced myself, ‘I’m your daddy,’ a tear escaped my watery eyes which I wiped away with the back of my hand. ‘I’m afraid mummy died! But the two of us together are going to make a great…. a great team!’

I cried like I was a child again, my body convulsing with every breath. I was bent over, my head in my hands, the tears dripping onto the ground in front of me.

I jumped as I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder. It was one of the nurses. She handed me a box of tissues and paid respect to my late wife. I still can’t believe she is gone!

‘You can open one of those little holes and touch her if you want?’ she smiled, obviously knowing the situation. I was so grateful to be able to hold your little hand.

After three days in the ICU, I hadn’t left your bedside except to use the bathroom. I had completely turned away from the world and turned my phone off because I was sick of all the well wishers and sympathies. My mother-in-law, your grandmother, Eileen, came into the room.

‘May I look at my granddaughter?’ she asked tentatively.

I was delighted to see her. Both of my parents had passed and Eileen took me under her wing when I began to date mummy. She said I was a ‘good egg’.

‘Of course,’ I said giving her my chair and bringing over an empty stool from the incubator opposite me. ‘You can put your hand in the hole!’ I informed her.

As Eileen wept, she managed to say that you looked just like Karen. I think that’s what all grandparents say but I was grateful nonetheless that you didn’t have my ears.

Eileen reached into her bag and produced some lovely little hats that she had knitted especially for you. They were adorable! I immediately took the one with the purple and pink stripes and reached into your incubator and gently put it on your head. Both myself and Eileen fell into each other’s arms and cried.

When we composed ourselves, we talked about mummy and her funeral.

‘I’ve made all the arrangements!’ she informed me. ‘A cremation, just like she had always said she would prefer!’

I couldn’t thank Eileen enough. I explained that I wouldn’t be going because there needed to be someone here with you.

‘I have it covered!’ she explained, ‘you are going to go to the funeral and say a proper goodbye to your dear wife and I will sit here with the baby!’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked with a furrowed brow.

‘Absolutely…...we need to be able to say goodbye to the ones we love in order to let them be free!’

Those were very wise words.

‘Thank you!’ I said tearing up again. ‘But how will you get to say goodbye to her?’ is asked.

‘Trust me!’ was all Eileen said and I nodded.

 

The next day arrived and as planned a nurse sat with you whilst I took a much-needed shower and then at 2:30, Eileen arrived with my suit and a packet of tissues for my breast pocket. I quickly changed and took Eileens car to the funeral.

She was right! I did need that final goodbye to my wife, your mother! At the funeral I saw no one and heard nothing even though the church was overflowing. My mind was just focused on mummy…her laugh…the way she rolled her eyes when I said I’d do something but then forget…her smile…. the list was endless.

After the crematorium, I got back into Eileens car and headed for the hospital. When I arrived, Eileen met me with a forced grin and I kissed her on the cheek to thank her for that wonderful gift.

‘Now,’ she said, patting her hands on her knees. ‘This little lady needs a name!’

She was right! I couldn’t have baby Bishop on the name tag at the end your incubator forever.

‘Karen always like Isabella,’ I smiled, ‘that way we could call her Izzy, or Bella.’

‘I like that!’ Eileen smiled. She looked pensively into the incubator and said she really looked like a ‘Bella’.

I agreed and that’s how you got your name.

 

The next day I awoke to belles and buzzers going off everywhere and they were loads of people around my Bella, around you!

‘What’s going on?’ I asked one of the nurses…. but got no answer.

Thirty minutes later you were gone. They had done everything they could but you were just too sick. As I hold you now, for the last time, I can still feel the love and warmth that your five days brought. You will always be in my heart and now you have mummy to look after you.

‘Goodbye little one!’ I said as I kissed the top of her head and then she was taken away…. forever.

Five days doesn’t seem like a long time, but for me it was an eternity full of loss and grief, but most of all…love.

 

 

 

picture from pixabay