A Mother's Heart Break

I am in the waiting room of the pediatric oncologist’s office holding my son, Michael, in my arms. As my 16 month old son naps in my arms I am reminded of the reason we’re here. I tap my foot impatiently as we wait for the test results that will impact the rest of our lives.

I remember when our world came crashing down around us, it was the same time we should be celebrating milestones. When Michael was 9 months old he was diagnosed with Atypical Teratoid/ Rhabdoid Tumor, also known as, ATRT, or even more popular, brain cancer. I am sitting in the office today waiting to find out the fate of my 16 month old angel.

The bleach white walls, the smell of sanitizer and the mellow music that fills the room make me nauseous. The nurses laughing and carrying on as though their worlds are perfect, don’t seem to notice that I am sitting here holding a child that is fighting for his life. The least they could do is shut their traps while he rests his body for the first time all day. I continue to coddle my baby boy and watch his every breath; I cannot help but notice the little miracles he gives us on a regular basis. This time we have together may look depressing to an outsider because he is sick, but to me it is also comforting because it formed a bond between us no one can take away.

“Linda?” The stout dark haired nurse named Jewel called for me from the door way leading to the patient exam rooms. I stood with Michael in my arms and our diaper bag over my shoulder. “Dr is ready to see Michael now.” She completed, with a look of sorrow written on her face. My heart sank at that moment. She may not realize it, but her face told me the results of his recent scans were not good.

Jewel led me thru the narrow halls past the e...

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...said gently releasing the rail on the hospital crib bed. I relaxed myself in the room’s only recliner ready to hold my son until he went to his forever home. The nurse maneuvered the IV pole and other machinery closer to the chair where I was sitting before finally placing my small Michael in my arms.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

Nate looked on in a daze as if he did not understand what was happening. He continued to look on without saying a word and the occasional tear.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word…” I began to sing. Michael opened one eye to peek out at me and gave a half smile, which was all he could muster.

Suddenly the breathing and heart monitor alarms started to sound. My angel had taken his final breath while in my arms. The nurse rushed in to check the equipment but quickly realized it was not malfunctioning monitors. Michael had gone home to heaven.