Our last day...

We're still trying to grasp what exactly happened in the past few days. All I know is that my c-section was scheduled for today, and now everything is already all said and done...it all happened way too quickly.

Our last day together; Saturday started out great. I took my first shower since the surgery, it was the best shower ever...I felt pretty good, and as I got dressed and ready to head down to see Will, Tim said that he had a strange feeling that something was wrong. If only I would have known...but I never saw it coming, at least not that day.

We headed down and were immediately concerned. The nurse was giving Will all sorts of stuff and then we met with the doctor. I wrote about this in one of my other postings about signing papers that said we didn't want him resesitated if his heart stopped. After meeting with him, we took some pictures (so, so glad that I did this) and decided to head back up to the room to grab some lunch...if only we could have known, I know we wouldn't have left his side.

We got up to my room and attempted to eat. We were so sad. As we laid in bed together we both started praying by ourselves. I prayed that if Will wasn't going to make it, that God would take him soon and not draw this out...and if he was going to be okay, then he would get better quickly. It wasn't even 5 minutes later, that Will's doctor called from the NICU to get us back down there. As Tim wheeled me, I found he had prayed the same thing...

Once to the NICU, the doctor explained that Will's oxgyen level was going down, and his body was not able to get rid of the carbon dioxide collecting in his body. His kidneys were starting to shut down and he had quit peeing. We could tell a huge difference from the day before, his little chest was barely moving and he was now back up to 100% oxygen and the jet vent (the machine trying to help out his lungs) was set at its highest point. His honeymoon period was over and it was clear to everyone that this precious baby just didn't have the lungs to survive. But they wanted to run one more test...and so we waited.

They asked if we wanted him baptized. Of course we did. It then occurred to me what was happening. That moment was so real. A person showed up within 10 minutes and performed the ceremony. There was something so special about that moment, Tim & I holding hands peering down into his bed, watching our son. After it was finished, I felt a sense of peace.

Then the doctor came back with his latest test results: not good news at all. Everything we feared was confirmed. Tim and I were in shock. He looked so perfect still. We sat there totally confused and completely crushed. The doctor looked at us and started to cry, explaining that we had 3 choices: leave him hooked up to everything until his heart stopped, which would drag out his suffering; or leave the room while they removed him from the machines for him to pass more quickly, or lastly, they unhook him from the machines and bring him to us in a private room where he could pass in his parents arms. The doctor explained that many people could not handle the last option, as watching their child die was too hard. 

For Tim and I there was never a question in our minds. The doctor was upfront in telling us that Will had a 0% chance of survival at this point.

As we talked about this stuff, my eyes were focused on his vitals screen. Tim was gripping my hand crying and doing the talking with the doctor. But I just watched his oxygen level drop before my eyes...62, 61, 60, 59...It was supposed to be past 80, and now it was going down so fast I felt like I was watching a kitchen timer run out...I felt panicked. Rushed.

I don't remember walking into the private room or leaving his bedside. The next thing I knew our baby was brought to us in a blanket we had brought from home by a crying doctor and nurse, saying that he would probably only make it 5-10 minutes...

We held onto him for dear life...crying...talking to him...kissing and loving on him. He looked so peaceful. Every now and then he would take a breath, startling me, because that was his only movement. As the minutes went on I became panicky, he just kept hanging on, and as his mother I didn't want him to suffer. Inside I was screaming at God in my thoughts, I was so angry that this was happening, angry that I had to sit here and watch my baby die in our arms when he was so beautiful...angry that every time the doctor checked his heart, he was still hanging on. 

I sobbed to Tim..."Did we do the right thing?! I'm so scared we didn't do the right thing."

In my heart, I knew we had. Then Tim said something that brought me instant peace and I know Will felt it too...

"Its okay buddy, you go when you are ready..."

Will had never done anything the doctors said he would do. He never miscarried between 18 & 20 weeks, never crushed his cord, never died in the moments right after birth. He always hung on...Why should his last moments be any different? 

We continued to talk to him, tell him how much we loved him, how beautiful he was, and pray with him. Slowly, he passed in our arms. In his own time...he held on for 45 minutes. So peaceful and so quiet. 

The doctor came in and checked for a heartbeat. All was silent...it was about 6:15.

The rest of the evening, we just held him. Memorizing his hands, his face, his cute little feet. We wanted to stop time. Our parents arrived to hold him for the last time. The NICU staff took pictures, made molds of his feet & hands, and made other momentos, which are now priceless. As it got later, Tim and I turned off some of the lights and sat silently. Tim holding me, me holding onto Will. And we just sat there as a family for the last time, in a dim and quiet room, wishing that time could just stand still.

But time in that room went so quickly, and soon it was time to hand him to the nurse. We had been in that room for over 6 hours and it felt like minutes. It was that moment that was harder than all the rest. Handing over his tiny body, knowing that we would never see him or hold him again in this life...our hearts have been breaking ever since.

Will is a complete miracle and blessing. I use to think that after everything: the 8 weeks in the hospital, the shots in my belly twice a day, finger pokes, gestational diabetes...that I would become bitter if he didn't make it. But if going through all that enabled us to spend those 52 hours with him, instead of just a few moments, then I know it was completely worth it.

God has a plan. We don't know what it is, but we find peace in knowing that Will is now completely healed and watching over us. That still doesn't make it hurt any less, each day we struggle with missing our son. But he will forever be our perfect baby...waiting to be held by us again one day.

Celebrating Will's Life

Thank you to everyone for their continued prayers and support. The comments left by so many on this blog keep Tim and I from completely falling apart, your words mean so much to us. We know that only time can help begin to heal our pain but in the meantime, we are coming to terms with our loss and want to remember everything about him. Since coming home yesterday we have been busy trying to best decide how to memorialize our son. 

We have decided we want to celebrate the miraculous 52 hours Will was with us by having an open house on Saturday, July 26th beginning at 3 p.m. and will continue into the evening to assure that everyone is able to come (including all of our new friends at the hospital!) Please feel free to stop by during this time as we truly rejoice in the miracle he was and continues to be for us. If you need our address or directions to our home, please feel free to contact me via email at: jzoepke@yahoo.com

Since many have been inquiring on ways to help, we set up a fund in Will's name that will be used to cover a number of things we would like to do to help preserve his memory. We will be using any donations to help us cover things like his medical costs, cremation services, and a memorial tree which will be planted in our front yard. In addition, we would also like to make a donation to the NICU at the hospital. Tim & I are at a loss for words to describe just how incredible the staff was. They provided us with so many keepsakes, photos, and moldings of his little feet, hands, and face. We feel it would be an honor to help families like ours that lose a child. We're not sure exactly what we would like to do, but will search our hearts to find something fitting of Will. 

If you would like to make a donation to this fund, checks may be made out to:

William James Fund c/o Tim Murray

Please mail this to our home address, as our local bank would not allow us to have people send it directly to their branch due to various concerns.

Again, Tim & I cannot express how grateful we are for every one's thoughts & support. 

We truly feel your prayers...

Pictures...

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...I'll let these speak for me tonight as we are still struggling with the last 24 hours...

Sweet William...

Tonight, around 6:00 p.m., Tim & I held our son as he took his last breath and passed away.

He was peaceful and we feel blessed that we were able to hold him & comfort him without all the monitors and wires in the NICU.

We are grateful for all the nurses, doctors, and other hospital staff that cried with us as we said good-bye to our precious baby. We will post more information and pictures once we are back home on Sunday.

In lieu of flowers, we will be setting up a fund through our local bank, to be used towards medical and funeral expenses.

Thank you to everyone who fought the fight with us & Will...we love you and are grateful for your continued prayers.

precious baby...

Tim & I are completely in love with our son...

The first 24-48 hours the doctors call the honeymoon period. He looked good and his numbers were improving. This morning I took my first shower since surgery and felt good, then we visited the NICU.

Today has been filled with tears at our son's bedside. He is so beautiful and perfect on the outside, yet his little lungs are leaving him critical on the inside. All we can do is sob and plead with God to make things different. There are no words to describe falling in love with your first child and then watching helplessly as he struggles to live.

We met with the neonatologist this afternoon and signed a paper that no one should ever have to sign. Tim and I could only cry as we made the decision, not to try to bring Will back, should it be God's will to have his little heart or lungs give out. That would mean to only prolong his pain. Currently, he is sedated with morphine and is back up to 100% oxygen. We are sad to say that he is going down the road that we hoped he would not go down and it doesn't look good.

As new parents we can't help but love on him and cry at how perfect he truly is. He has his mom's button nose and his daddy's chin. They have since cleaned him up since his birth and he has just the right amount of light brown/ blondish hair. He is pink and his little wrinkles have filled out, giving him that cuddly baby look. The hardest part is that he doesn't look sick, he shouldn't be dying right now...

We ask for your continued prayers and we go through this horrific time. Thank you for your messages of love and support and the beautiful gifts...The last few days have been a roller coaster of emotions, we can only take comfort in knowing that God somehow has a plan for our family & Will. We continue to pray for his little lungs and the blessing his life truly is for all of us.

William James is Here!!!

This is Dad's first time so here goes-

We had a pretty short night as Julie was feeling some contractions around 3-4am. They decided to put her on the monitor to check-out Will's heartbeat. He was showing signs of stress so the decision was made that this was the day to deliver him before things got worse. They prepped Julie in the room for a bit with an IV, etc and we headed down to the delivery floor. Then it was all about waiting- probably about 2 hours so we grabbed a nap for a bit and I some how found a way to fit into a scrub 'jump-suit' that was way to small. I also had Julie laughing by the fact that the bootie that I tried to put on ripped in two trying to get over my shoes- guess we were slap-happy at that point. Eventually the Drs and their Entourage came in to brief us and whisked Julie away to drug her up before the C-Section.

Julie did great with the C-Section and all of surgery- she definitely felt some pressure when they were working him out for the birth. Will arrived today at 1:59pm, weighs 3lbs 2oz and is 16.5 inches long. He was pretty purple and the Neonatal team worked on him right away- he was stabilized fairly quickly though and got in a few pix before he was taken away.

We were pretty sad after the delivery as it was too quiet- the Neonatal Dr said he was 'less than optimistic'. No way not to cry, right? They sewed her up and took us to the recovery area- that was the toughest part of the day- other families had their babies. This was the first time Julie really cried as we wanted our little guy right next too us. It definitely felt unfair when we heard others having one of their happiest times of their lives- and we were having one of our toughest.

Julie saw Will once since birth- I cannot stop going up there and hate to leave him there alone. He is on a ventilator and has feeding tubes through his umbilical cord. Julie is well- obviously tired and very sore- but is doing great. Both of us are quite tired so I think this is it for today- we will be heading to see Will again in the morning- more details as soon as we get a good nights sleep.

Please continue your thoughts and prayers as the next 24-48 hrs are most crucial to Will-

Final count down!

One week from right now I will be in the delivery room...that is, if Will doesn't decide to come any earlier.

This morning he had a very flat heart rate line on the monitor with some dips, so they are going to monitor me again after lunch. All this could mean is that he is under stress...aren't we all! If this continues they could possibly deliver earlier than a week from now.

Tim has been with me since Monday afternoon and it has been such a relief. We are both dealing with so much and having our company visiting from CA has been a huge blessing and much needed distraction. But we've been able to talk about things going on and how we are trying our best to prepare. Most importantly is how UN-prepared we truly feel. In a week we will be parents regardless if he lives or passes.

What do we do if he doesn't make it?
Where do we begin if he does? We have no clothes, no supplies, and none of the other fun stuff associated in preparing for the arrival of a baby...but we know all of that will come if it is meant to be...

If he is able to breathe, at least he will be in the NICU for some time which will help me to recover and also help us to get back on our feet and get the house ready (because of right now I'm pretty sure that I have spent more time in this hospital room than my new home...and I forget what it looks like!).

Bottom line: we're hanging in there as best we can. Your thoughts, prayers, letters, and emails are greatly appreciated and help to keep whatever sanity we actually have left:)