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When Hope is Enough: Melissa's Miracle
I walked back to the bed where Melissa was still sitting. She was breathing more rapidly than before. I wanted to wrap my arms around my baby, kiss her booboo, and make it better like I could when she was younger, but this time there was no making things better. I put the palm of my hand against her cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead. My voice cracked as I choked the words out of my throat, “You will wake up, and I will be here waiting for you!” Melissa could only nod her head, acknowledging that she had heard me. I stepped away but immediately came back to kiss her again, whispering, “I love you so much!” in her ear. She mouthed, “I love you too,” but no sound came out.
I can’t even find the words to describe how difficult it was to force myself to walk away from Melissa. It felt wrong. I had this feeling that somehow, if we were together, that nothing could touch us. I felt physical pain as I moved away from her and backed out of the room. My eyes never left her face, but she was looking down at the bed, trying to catch her breath. The hospital staff that had filled her room watched as I walked out, waiting for the door to close behind me before exploding into action. This time I was not even trying to hide the tears streaming down my face as the sobs shook my chest. How does a mother walk away from her child knowing that these were probably the last few moments of that child’s life? Yet here I was, once again, standing outside the room.
There were several nurses waiting outside the door. Someone handed me a box of tissues, and someone else brought over a chair that I had no interest in sitting in. I was wearing a cardboard N95 mask that pressed tightly to my face, leaving a dent in the bridge of my nose and making it difficult to breathe, especially while crying. A young nurse handed me a pink paper mask and told me I could breathe more easily with the cloth mask.
Once again, I found myself looking into the room through the little window in the door. The Mommy instinct that told me to burst back through the doors and stop this madness was almost irresistible, but I knew that this time I could not fix it. This was not a ghost in the closet or a monster under the bed. This time I could not make it go away.
I watched as Melissa struggled. Someone moved to the head of the bed and took her head in his hands to hold her still. I placed my palms against the door and got up on my tiptoes, hoping to see over the heads of the nurses. “Why are they holding her down?” I shrieked. “They said that she would be asleep!” The thought that they would intubate her while she was still awake was horrifying! The nurse put her arm around me and pulled me tightly to her side as she assured me it was normal for her to struggle, even though she was sedated and was not aware. I was not sure that I believed her, thinking she may just be telling me what I wanted to hear. I became even more concerned when the doctor moved away, and I saw my daughter arching forward with her head lifted off the pillow, her chin was raised, and she was moving her head side to side. The intubation tube was protruding out of her mouth. This will be one of the most vivid and disturbing memories that will haunt me for years to come.
All I was left with was hope, but I didn’t know if hope would be enough to save my daughter.
I can’t even find the words to describe how difficult it was to force myself to walk away from Melissa. It felt wrong. I had this feeling that somehow, if we were together, that nothing could touch us. I felt physical pain as I moved away from her and backed out of the room. My eyes never left her face, but she was looking down at the bed, trying to catch her breath. The hospital staff that had filled her room watched as I walked out, waiting for the door to close behind me before exploding into action. This time I was not even trying to hide the tears streaming down my face as the sobs shook my chest. How does a mother walk away from her child knowing that these were probably the last few moments of that child’s life? Yet here I was, once again, standing outside the room.
There were several nurses waiting outside the door. Someone handed me a box of tissues, and someone else brought over a chair that I had no interest in sitting in. I was wearing a cardboard N95 mask that pressed tightly to my face, leaving a dent in the bridge of my nose and making it difficult to breathe, especially while crying. A young nurse handed me a pink paper mask and told me I could breathe more easily with the cloth mask.
Once again, I found myself looking into the room through the little window in the door. The Mommy instinct that told me to burst back through the doors and stop this madness was almost irresistible, but I knew that this time I could not fix it. This was not a ghost in the closet or a monster under the bed. This time I could not make it go away.
I watched as Melissa struggled. Someone moved to the head of the bed and took her head in his hands to hold her still. I placed my palms against the door and got up on my tiptoes, hoping to see over the heads of the nurses. “Why are they holding her down?” I shrieked. “They said that she would be asleep!” The thought that they would intubate her while she was still awake was horrifying! The nurse put her arm around me and pulled me tightly to her side as she assured me it was normal for her to struggle, even though she was sedated and was not aware. I was not sure that I believed her, thinking she may just be telling me what I wanted to hear. I became even more concerned when the doctor moved away, and I saw my daughter arching forward with her head lifted off the pillow, her chin was raised, and she was moving her head side to side. The intubation tube was protruding out of her mouth. This will be one of the most vivid and disturbing memories that will haunt me for years to come.
All I was left with was hope, but I didn’t know if hope would be enough to save my daughter.
159 pages, Kindle Edition
Published December 13, 2022
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