She writes about her precious little boy, William. He died when he was 17 days old from Trisomy 18. She has pictures on her blog and a link to a website she has created in his memory at Williams Website at Continulife.com which led me to create my own site ~ for my brother. So, while I logged on today with every intention of telling some hilarious story about my life with my ex's-ex ~ I'm all sad like now and not in a funny story-telling mood. Since the website I created for my brother won't be available to edit until tomorrow; I'm going to write a little about my brother here.
My little brother, Timothy, was born when I was 16 and for the next 22 months, spending time with him, was the best part of my day. I wore his picture, in a charm-frame around my neck, ALWAYS, and he loved playing with his picture and telling everyone that it was him in the picture. Hanging out with Timothy ranked over being with my friends. He was the most important person in my world and my heart broke in a million pieces the day he died.
I had just turned 18 years old and if I had stayed in school, in stead of getting my GED, May 21st, 1990 would have been my graduation day. One of the best days in a persons life. Instead, May 21st, 1990 will forever be the worst day of my life. I will always, always wonder and feel guity about how it might have been different if I had graduated. How, if my graduation was that day, Timothy might not have been put down for a nap. We might have been with him when he had his seizure. That if I had graduated; Timothy might be with us today. That is a very hard and heavy burden for me to bear and I have been carrying it for 20 years.
Timothy was born with epilepsy and cerebral palsy. He took medications for seizure and had just been taken off the apnea monitor he wore while sleeping since he was a newborn (had he not been taken off the monitor; he might be with us today as well). I was at work when I found out that something was wrong with Timothy. I ran out of work and half way home in tears. Scared. Not knowing what was happening. ~ I was remembering the day, a year prior, when Timothy seized in his car-seat, coincidentally, on the way to the hospital where his pediatrician had admitted him. I was in the backseat with him and my Mother was driving but had stopped for gas. Timothy ended up on the gas station cement, having CPR administered to him by the gas station attendant and me screaming on the phone to 911 ~ halfway home an ambulance passed me with its lights and sirens on. I stopped and just watched it go past. I just knew my little brother was inside of it. I couldn't move. I just stood there. My parents were following the ambulance but I didn't even notice when they pulled up to the curb to pick me up.
My dad had gone to check on Timothy while he was napping and he found him not breathing. He was still not breathing when the paramedics left for the hospital with him. They said he'd had a seizure in his sleep. They couldn't save him at the hospital. It was too late even when my dad found him. He was just gone. My life had just been taken from me. My whole reason for living. They let my parents and I stay with Timothy in a room. I got to hold him one last time. Run my fingers through his hair. Kiss his face. Begging him to wake up. I remember refusing to let go of him when my Mother was trying to take him back. The nurse cut a lock of his hair for each of us. We buried Timothy next to his and my older brother, Christopher. Timothy was the second child my Mother lost. I can't imagine a pain worse than that and my Mother went through it twice. She is still going through it. Every day. And so am I. My son's middle name is Timothy. I so fortunate and grateful to have had that wonderful little boy in my life and I cherish the time we had with him and the memories we all share.