My name is Cynthia and on July 6, 1996, I lost my beautiful, healthy, 2 1/2 month old son, Lexis. I fed my son, I rocked him to sleep, and I laid him down. He looked so peaceful. I checked on him a couple of hours later, and he was sleeping comfortably. I laid down and the next thing I knew, my sister was shaking me. She didn't say anything to me, but I felt something was wrong. However, my mind was unwilling to accept that anything could be wrong with my perfect baby. I went to him and saw that my sister had started to change his diaper. Still unwilling to accept that anything was wrong, I proceeded to finish what she had started while chattering about the merits of my little wonder boy. I started to change his t-shirt and my hand brushed his thigh when I was reaching for another shirt. It was very cool. At that point, I picked him up and started calling his name. I knew then that I was not getting the proper response, so I yelled at my sister to call 9-1-1. She did, but she gave me the phone. I tried to do what the 9-1-1 operator told me to do; I tried to breathe life into my little angel. Soon, men from the Sherrif's Department came in and took over. I still kept thinking that they would do what they had to do, get him to the hospital, and he would be okay. I thought he might have to stay a couple of days to get some tests done, but that he was really fine. He had to be fine. I had just taken him to the doctor two days before and gotten a glowing report of how healthy he was and how he was doing just fine. He had to be fine. I had just gone to my job to request extra time off so I could spend more time with him before I went back to work. He had to be fine. I had so many plans for him, for us, for our family. When my husband came back in town, we were going to take his two older sisters and go have a family picture taken.
I don't know if the paramedics came and took my son to the hospital or if the Deputy Sheriff took him, because once they arrived, they made me and my sister leave the room. I only know that one of the deputies told me that he would take me to the hospital. We got to the hospital and I stood out in a hallway with a stack of papers in front of me that I was supposed to fill out. Thank goodness the deputy that had taken me took the time to ask me questions and filled out what he could. I was incapable of writing my name by that time. I had no sense of time, so I'm not sure how much later it was when the doctor summoned me to a room and told me that my it looked like my son had died from SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome).
I know now that I did go in and spend some time with my darling son, Lexis. I was able to hold him and kiss him and rock him and sing to him - all the things I usually did. I know now that I was admitted to the hospital and my wonderful, supportive family was there for me. In the days that were to follow, I don't know what I would have done without them. My parents, my sisters and brothers, were towers of support even though they were devastated. They made funeral arrangements for me and really tried to do everything they could to ease my pain, even though they knew there was nothing that would ease my pain. Today, I am still trying to cope with the pain.
I am now involved with the SIDS Foundation and attend support meetings. It helps, but I am still searching for answers. If my son had been ill, I wouldn't be in any less pain, but at least I could satisfy the human in me that needs a reason for why my beautiful little boy had to leave me? I had prayed for him. I am so thankful that I had a chance to get to know him, even if it was for just a short time. I ache for him every single day and know that I always will.
You can send email to Cynthia at: [email protected]
anniversary date 07-06-96
date of post 07-23-97