In my family, I’m known to be cold and calculating at times. But last night, that all faded as I silently cried while my girlfriend lay beside me.
After a few minutes, I reached out for the first time in a year and told Sara, “I miss Scarlett.”
It All Happened Very Suddenly
Last October 10th started out like most other days, until Sara told me that she felt that something was wrong and wanted to go to the doctor. I was a bit irritated at this point because I thought she was just being panicky… After all, Hero’s mom had us go to the doctor at least 6 times for false labor. Surely, Sara was just overreacting?
But once we got to the doctor, my tune changed very quickly. Within a short period of time, the doctor told us that we needed to go ahead and induce labor. All of a sudden, the fact that I was going to be a father (again) hit.
I took Sara to the hospital, got her checked in to the delivery room, then ran home to pack a bag. We hadn’t prepared quite enough for this.
Within 5-10 minutes of leaving the hospital, I got a call saying that there were complications and that they were going to do an emergency c-section within minutes. I immediately raced back to the hospital, put the surgery gear on, and waited nervously.
Another few minutes and I was watching the doctor cut open Sara to deliver Scarlett. I tried calming Sara down by holding her hand, but I kept getting sidetracked by the sight of the surgery.
After the doctor delivered Scarlett, they immediately began to work on her. We could feel that something was wrong, but I was certain that the doctors and nurses had everything under control.
With every passing minute, Sara became much more irritated and anxious to hold Scarlett, which pushed me to check in with the doctors. “Why can’t I hold Scarlett yet? What’s wrong?”
The Next Morning
I can’t remember all of the steps that came next, but at some point I remember the doctors telling us that Scarlett would need to be flown to Cook Childrens Hospital in Fort Worth (about 2 hours away), because the local doctors couldn’t help her any more.
At first the doctors told us that Sara was not going to be allowed to leave the hospital at the same time that Scarlett was air-evaced. While Sara complied with this for an hour or two, eventually she told us all that she would be leaving the hospital with or without approval.
A few hours later, we found ourselves in Fort Worth and were racing to find where Scarlett is. Against my pleading, Sara insisted on speed walking, even though her abdomen had been cut open and stapled back just a few hours earlier.
Eventually, we got to a nurses station and were briskly led to where Scarlett is being tested. At this point, we also managed to find a wheelchair and I began pushing Sara around. Probably a bit slower than she would’ve liked to go.
We are taken to some room where we are not allowed any metallic objects, we had to put on earplugs, and we sat and watched as some loud recurring noise played. I can’t remember what this test was.
Eventually, we make our way to Scarlett’s room, where we would be for the next few days. There was a chair and a pull out couch in the room and we were told that we could sleep in the room, and were likely expected to.
Scarlett was subject to a ton of tests while Sara and I watched and waited, but one test hit Sara and I especially hard…
Is She Brain Dead?
I remember the doctor talking to us about Scarlett’s condition. She was using some very scientific and technical terms, but I could understand the undertone.
After listening for a few minutes, I simply asked the doctor, “So, you’re essentially telling me that Scarlett is brain dead, right? You don’t have to sugar coat this.”
The doctor replied with, “I think that you and Sara understand the situation, and are handling this well.”
The doctor went on to clarify that Scarlett wasn’t technically brain dead, but that her brain was dying.
Shortly after this, we began receiving more frequent visits from people other than Scarlett’s doctor. At one point, I can’t remember if some visitor had prompted us, Sara and I began to talk about quality of life and decided that if tests continued to show no brain activity, that we would choose to take Scarlett off of life support.
One might think that choosing to let your daughter die was the hardest decision that Sara and I had to make. But, that was really just the start.
All of the decisions came next. Should we donate her organs? Do we have a funeral? How do we pay for the after death costs?
But, the hardest part was holding Scarlett in both of our arms and watching Scarlett slowly die.
Now, one year later, I can, at times, see very clearly how Scarlett’s death has affected us.
There are times that I see our friends’ children and wonder how it would have been to have a daughter.
I have even more of a dislike towards all things religion.
There have also been effects on my relationship with Sara. One of the biggest being that Sara and I deal with Scarlett’s death in very different ways.
My particular approach was to shut it out, while Sara broke down often. Sara had a very hard time understanding, and probably still does, why I didn’t cry or hurt as much and like she did.
Last year I remember breaking down and crying as I stood beside Scarlett’s bed. I sobbed in Sara’s arms, something I told her at the time would only ever happen that once. Maybe it’s a good thing I felt something last night.
In the end, the thing I most want to impart is that we all deal with loss much differently. If you have a loved whose reactions and thoughts you don’t understand, I urge you to be patient with him or her.