In this Together : The Journey of a Mother and Child 

Excerpt of the Book

When my son finally came into the world at 2:11am on July 30, 1996 after a
prolonged second stage of labor, he was blue and floppy, and they took him rom me immediately.

No one in the room said anything.  When they handed Jacob to the
pediatrician, it only took a few seconds for me to realize that something
wasn't quite right.  The obstetrical nurse was doing her job in a very
businesslike manner, Dr. Dunbetter was busy sewing up several lacerations, nd my mother and husband were watching and waiting.  Since everyone had a etter view of the whole thing than I did, they all knew long before me that omething was wrong.

I don't recall one person looking me in the eye when I asked what was the matter.  The pediatrician had Jacob intubated (meaning they inserted a tube down his throat so they could breathe for him) within 30 seconds and announced that they were taking him to the Special Care Nursery, and that whole entourage left the room.  Still, no one was saying anything.  Dr.
Dunbetter finished sewing me up and left the room with Dr. Head.  The nurse
was still attending to the business of cleaning up, while I , on the other
hand, was becoming hysterical.  Just as I sent my mother from the room with
instructions to find out what was going on, the doctors came in to tell me,
"You have a very sick baby.  We called the transport team at New England
Medical Center to come and get him."

A very sick baby. What does that mean?  Not one person, including the ransport team when they arrived, would define for me what "very sick" meant.  They just kept saying over and over that my child was very sick and hey had to take him and could I just please sign all this paperwork.  I demanded to see my child before they left. 

They brought Jacob in an incubator, hooked up to wires and tubes, took a picture of him for me, let
me touch his hand for a few seconds, and then he was gone.  Just like that.  and I'm left thinking, "What just happened here?"  It's like being caught in  hurricane when you were expecting a gentle spring rain.  There's so much going on all at once, everything is moving so fast, you're being hit from very direction and clearly, you're ill prepared.  Then all of a sudden there's nothing.  For a moment in time there's just nothing, as though passing through the eye of the storm. And then...you get to the other side.

In the meantime, I found myself on the brink of hysteria with the need to get out of the labor and delivery room.  I didn't want any phone calls or visitors because I knew I couldn't handle it emotionally.  When my mother asked what she could do, without hesitation I asked her if she could call everyone and tell them.  Looking back, I realize how heart-wrenching it was for her to do that.  I could not see at the time that she was dealing with her own shock and grief....grief that this happened to her grandson and more
grief that it was happening to her daughter, her baby.  What a double-edged sword it was and I'm even now sorry for it but grateful as well.

I got to the other side of this hurricane several hours later when I called the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit  (NICU) and spoke with the neurologist in charge of my son's care.  He seemed surprised that I didn't know what was going on and that I had only been told that my child was very sick.  He went on to explain that Jacob's brain was swollen, that he was having seizures
that they hadn't gotten under control yet, that his EEG to measure brain wave activity was pretty grim.  "The picture is very grave", he said.   The list of things that were wrong with my child were not in the realm of things I had imagined since they took him from me with "your child is very sick".  It never occurred to me before then that "very sick" meant a catastrophic
tragedy.

It was 11am Wednesday morning and, after speaking with the neurologist, I demanded my discharge.  I wanted to rush into Boston to see him.  Dr. Messenger came in to do the deed.  I don't think Dr. Dunbetter wanted to see me at that point and I doubt Dr. Head gave a damn.  I let Dr. Messenger and my mother convince me to go home and rest for the day and see Jacob on Thursday instead, but only with the guarantee that should something happen to him, that I would have enough time to get there.

When I left, it was empty handed.  I didn't look at anyone.  I likely would have collapsed had I seen a happy family leaving with their newborn baby. It would be many months later and after I developed the courage to read the medical records that I would see what  I could not have seen when THE EVENT was unfolding.