Michelle: We had all recovered from the stomach bug somewhat, and so felt we could visit Conor. Although only Mike and I were allowed to visit him in the CTICU. Rachel kept asking to see him, but she wasn’t allowed and it was hard to try and explain to her why she couldn’t come to the hospital with us.
He was stable, but showing no signs of improvement yet. The ECMO was supposed to help his heart rest by doing all of the work for it, and with rest, muscles often recover and get better. He was doing well for all intents and purposes I guess. It was too soon to tell, so more agonising waiting.
I am taking strain. The stress of the endless hours of waiting to see if our boy would live were starting to wear me down. My composure was cracking. But I had push down on my emotions otherwise they would overwhelm me. And I wanted to be strong for Conor. But this was just too terrible for words. My poor, poor baby didn’t deserve this. He was so little and had to experience all of these awful things. And still he fought, my brave little boy.
Michael: More lines, this time you can see the blood going in and out, more questions, another thing to get used to. He is very pale. Doc does another scan and you can see from his face there is no improvement.
We are somewhat overwhelmed. We need fresh air and go out to the parking lot. Michelle and I have a good chat, something we haven’t had since he was born, obviously, the focus has been on his health. The foundation of our relationship has always been strong, good to sometimes just look if there are cracks. Nope, none, all good.
We haven’t really told anybody, bar from family, a few messages of support start coming through, and I realise all the visions I had of spending time with the kids doing fun stuff will have to change. A friend reassures me this would not be the case, one will adapt and still do fun things. This gives me renewed hope.