This is one I have to do. It is raw, shocking, gut wrenching, and real. Please proceed with caution, but it needs to be said, I need to say it in the hopes that it may help someone cross the stepping stones in their grief process.
I need to write about what happened the day that I found her. This is something that I have been putting off for awhile, but I know I need to write it. I have already discussed it in therapy, but writing about it makes it more real.
The day began just like any other day. It was the usual busy morning routine. Mike heads to work and then I run around trying to get four kids ready for the day. Katherine was so good that morning, she slept in a bit and then patiently waited for me to feed her. She ate her whole bottle as usual and then I bathed and dressed her. I kept her in the room with us as I finished up getting the girls bathed and then I laid her down for her morning nap. I had cleaned that morning as my parents were coming into town the next day, the house was clean and I was running on a great schedule. The girls had ballet that day and they were all dressed and ready to go. I then took a quick shower and then stuck my head out of my door after getting dressed to make sure that Katherine was not crying. I did not hear anything and then went about getting ready. I called down to the girls and told them to get their shoes on and then get in the van. I put a bottle on to warm to take to the class and feed Katherine there. I then got my shoes on and went upstairs to her room to get her.
I knew as soon as I walked into the room that there was something wrong. The room was cold and dark and it is never cold and never dark. I saw that she was lying face down in the crib. I ran over and picked her up.
Over these last four months, the two most difficult things for me to work through in my mind is finding her and laying her in the casket.
Finding her replays in my waking mind and haunts my dreams in the dead of night. She looked terrible. I have never seen death that up close that personal. She was lifeless, limp, cold to the touch. Her head hung limp to the side. It was her eyes that I will never forget. They were half mast and not moving. I knew in that moment that she was dead, there was no going back, truly she was gone.
My first thought was “No, No, please do not leave me when I have worked so hard to get you here. Please No, Please Come Back!” I then think that I must shake her to wake her up. But, then I think you should never shake a baby. Then there was a quiet voice in my ear that said I needed to call 911, I needed to get help here, help that I could not provide. I ran into my bedroom and laid Katherine on my bed. I picked up the phone, and dialed 911. At this point I just remember screaming her name over and over and over again. There were no tears, only screaming. Finally, the dispatcher calmed me down a little and said “Who is Katherine?” The reply was “Katherine is my baby.” “What is wrong with Katherine?” I then proceed to tell her she is not breathing and not moving, her chest is not rising and falling. The dispatcher then connects me to the fire department, I hear the change on the line, I know that there is someone else listening in. I remember saying “Please help me, Please help me.” The dispatcher then tells me how to give chest compressions, I did so gently. My mind is afraid that if I do it too hard that I will hurt her, maybe even break a rib.
The next thing I remember is hearing men’s voices calling out to me, Fire Department, Fire Department. My response is that I am up here, in the bedroom. All of a sudden there are five men in my bedroom. They are wearing a lot of equipment and seemed almost like giants to me. One of them got me out of the room and guided me into the office.
I then remember standing in the small corner between the book shelf and the window screaming, just screaming as loud as I could. I think had a stopped screaming I would have begun to think about what was real and what was not real. The screaming seemed to be taking reality away from me which is what I wanted at that time.
The fire marshal was in the room with me while I was screaming and trying to calm me down and get me to think strait. He asked where my husband was, my reply was that he was at work. He then asked for the phone number and I am sure I gave him our home phone number and he said he was getting a busy signal. I then really had to think and stop screaming for a moment and then gave him the number. He called Mike and told him what was happening and Mike could hear me screaming in the background. When he heard it was the fire department calling he thought that the house was on fire. My thought was I wish the house was on fire, then that meant my baby was alright. But, the marshal told him that his daughter was unresponsive and not breathing and to come home quickly. Mike then asked which daughter and he was told it was the baby.
The next things I remember were several erratic moments. After the phone call I attempted to go back and check on the baby in my room. I had to check on her, she was all alone and needed my help. I was her mom and needed to be with her. But, the marshal would not let me back into the room. He restrained me by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back into the other room. He told me that I could not be with her right now that the other firemen were working on her and that I did not need to see that. At the time it was frustrating and annoying to me. But now I know why he would not let me in there. The other four men were placing a tube down her throat and attempting to give CPR, attempting in everyway possible to save her life. Had I seen that it would have been more traumatic for me. It would have been very difficult for me to witness my little baby being handled like that. I know that they were doing everything in their power to save her, but I am a mom and I never stop being a mom and I would have wanted to protect her from them. I would have gotten in their way and hindered their work. That is why I was unable to go back in the room.
The next clear moment I recall is looking out the bedroom window that faces the street and watching them place her into the ambulance and then again attempting to move and wanting to go with her. Again, I was restrained by the strong arms of the wise and I would say inspired marshal. He had me wrapped around in his arms yet one more time. This time he said to me as he spoke quietly in my ear: “You have two little girls in the van who are very scared, who do not know what is going one, you must think of them. You cannot go with your baby; you must stay here with the other girls. That is who you can help the most, your baby is in the best hands possible, and they are providing the best care they can to her.”
This was a wake up call for me, oh, that’s right I have two no wait three other children that I had not thought about since the moment that I had found Katherine. At that moment, there was yet again a quiet voice inside my head that said, “Don’t worry; the girls are being taken care of.”
At that point, the fire department was getting ready to leave and then I was passed over into the hands of the police department. I was given into the care of one of the deputy sheriffs. He at first tried to get me to sit in the living room and begin to talk to me about what happened. The problem was that I could not stop screaming and they wanted to bring the girls in from out of the van. In order to make them feel that they could do that, he took me outside into the back yard. The other deputy took the girls out of the van and began playing Barbie dolls with them as I continued to scream in the backyard.
He began to talk to me and try to get my mind off of what was going on. He asked if there was anyone that I wanted to call. I just could not think of anyone at that moment. He asked where my mother was and I said she lived in Vegas. He wanted to call her and somehow my cell phone turned up. I am pretty sure that one of the other officers must have looked for it in my purse and gave it to him. He told me that he would call my mother and tell her what was happening. He at first asked for my mother’s supervisor and told her what was going on and then asked to speak to my mom. I could hear him tell her about what happened and I heard him say that it was not yet a confirmed DOA.
Upon hearing this, I began to scream again. I believe he quickly hung up with the call and came over to me. At this point I began to feel that I could not take a deep breath. I just could not get enough air into my lungs. My head began to spin and my vision blurred. He attempted to hold and steady me and then I leaned over and threw up into the grass. He just stood there with his arms around me until it passed. I am quite sure that this was one of the most understanding, calm, and compassionate man I ever had the privilege of meeting. Never once did he complain, never once did he seem annoyed, never once did he seem grossed out by the events unfolding. After I threw up, he handed me a tissue (I am not sure where that came from) and then said something very profound to me. His words will stay with me forever. He proceeded to tell me that he had done two tours in Iraq as a Special Forces officer in the army. He had fought in mortal combat twice, he had seen and inflicted death on our country’s enemies. But, what I was experiencing now was as bad as it gets. He had never seen such sorrow, such shock, on the face of a grieving mother until that day when he saw me at my worse.
At this point, a social worker had arrived, and then I was handed off to her. She sat in the backyard with me and I had to recount what had happened. At some point during the conversation, Mike arrived home. She respected our privacy and we were left alone in the backyard. Mike then called our home teacher to let him know what had happened. He just so happed to be at home right then and came right over. Mike and he gave me a blessing while I continued to scream because I had asked the deputy sheriff if there was an update from the hospital and he said that no one had called.
I had known from the moment I saw her that she was gone, but in that moment, he confirmed it for me. I think that is why I reacted the way I did. All the memory brings back for me is seeing myself sitting in a chair in the backyard screaming and Mike and the home teacher holding my shoulders firmly down keeping me stationed and in one place.
After the blessing, I went inside the house, at this point the CSI team had arrived. I had to sign paper work to release the home and all the evidence they had to take with them as part on the investigation. I then sat down and began speaking to someone else that I did not know who it was. She began to question me and asked me to recount the events of the day. About half way through what was about a 45 minute interview, I stopped and said: “Who are you?” She responded that she was the CSI investigator and it was her job to find out what happened and then submit the report. At this point there were about 10 police authorities in my home. They seemed to be milling about and taking random things and asking me random questions. However, I was patient and answered the questions to the best of my ability.
Following the interview, the social worker invited me to come and sit with her on the couch so we could talk again. Several times during the conversation, she referred to someone who was my life couch. I finally stopped her and asked who she was talking about. She pointed to our home teacher and indicated that he must be my life couch. I said no, he is not my life couch, but simply and thankfully my faithful, dear home teacher. She asked if he was my pastor then, I said no, my bishop was like my pastor and he was just my home teacher. I then had to explain to her what that meant, and then found myself explaining what home teaching and visiting teaching meant and how there was a monthly message put out. It was a very strange time to share the gospel, but so it was.
Finally after about two hours, all the investigators left and then we were forced to face the long drive to the hospital. The fire department had taken her to Parker Adventist to the Children’s Emergency Room. Upon our arrival there, our home teacher and Bishop were waiting for us. They took us back and told us what had happened when Katherine arrived there.
We were told that she had never regained any type of heart beat or pulse. She had breathed but that is because she had been in abated and the tubes were breathing for her. They had given her five rounds of dopamine which is a drug designed to jump start the heart. After they had given the maximum amount of the drug, there was still no response; they were forced to declare her deceased. The coroner’s office was waiting there already to take her body back to their facility to perform an autopsy. We were told that we could see her for a moment and then they would have to take her away.
The room in which she lay was dark and quiet. She was lying alone on the bed without any clothes or a blanket. My gut response was to go and get her a blanket because she was cold and needed one. I asked for one and the nurse accommodated quickly. The bishop and home teacher were in the room with us. Mike held her first and began to sob and sob. It was a horrible scene. Even the devil himself who has a heart of stone would have been moved to tears. It was quiet for a while and then the rest of the staff from the hospital came in to answer any questions or offer any support that we needed. At this point, I believe that we were both numb and in utter disbelief as to the events that had unfolded. No one expects this to happen. No one wakes up in the morning and says, today I will loose a loved one, and no one does that.
We all left the hospital feeling sick to our stomachs. The bishop said that he would contact Alice Wheeler and get the ball rolling for funeral arrangements. We then slowly walked to our car. My first thought was well maybe Grandmas and Grandpas will come; it will be a small, quiet affair.
