|
August 14, 2003 was a beautiful day. I had to work but Mike was home with the kids and had gone swimming in our in-ground pool. Our pool is fenced separately from our house and is surrounded by a five foot high chainlink fence with gates are kept closed and locked unless an adult is at the pool. Mike had been out front with Aidan. He went inside for a moment just before I got home. I asked for her when I walked in. He said she was in the yard so I went out back to check for her. We live on an acre in a very quiet neighborhood. She liked to wander all around our yard. I went out to the pool because it has a good view of the yard and found her floating under the water. We later found a hole that our neighbor's dog had dug under the fence. Somehow she managed to crawl through the hole.
I screamed her name and jumped into the pool to pulled her out. She felt so heavy. I lay her on the grass, screaming and screaming. I was told later that they heard me 1/4 mile away. Then this voice in my head said "Shut up. You can't do CPR if you don't quit screaming." I have been a nurse for 12 years and have done CPR many times. Never on a drowning victim. I remember trying to give breaths and not being able because of all the water in her. I was angry--why don't they teach this part in CPR? I began chest compressions and my husband was there beside me. He took over and I ran for the phone. Just as I dialed 911 my neighbor came in and took the phone. I ran back to Aidan. My older children were asking “Is Aidan all right?” I screamed at them “No, she’s not! Go in the house!” I knew my neighbor was there to take care of them. I couldn’t worry about them then. My husband stopped CPR and said it was too late. I knew in my heart he was right. I let him stop then begged him to start again. Then I grabbed her, she was so limp, and held her and sobbed. Just then the paramedics arrived and started over. They kept working, put her on a gurney and into the ambulance. I ran in the house, threw on dry clothes, ran out front and pounded on their windows, asking to go with them. They let me in the front. I wasn’t allowed in back with her but could see everything. It was rush hour and we live 20 miles from the hospital. I watched in back and said over and over again "How do we live through this? How does a family survive this?" Traffic was so heavy and it seemed like it took forever. I was surprised at how many cars did not move out of the way of an ambulance with lights and sirens going.
We got to the children's hospital and there were people waiting in the driveway. My husband is a nurse in the adult ER that is next door. The hospitals share buildings but each has their own doctors and nurses so I did not know these faces. The paramedics got the gurney out of the ambulance and I grabbed her hand and held it as they ran to a trauma room. As we went in the social worker tried to grab me and head me off and start talking to me. I looked at her and said, what I felt was calmly but was probably violently, "I know who you are and what you are trying to do. But DO NOT TALK TO ME! I know what is happening, I know what they are trying to do, and I know how it is going to turn out! Leave me alone!" She looked so startled and backed away. I just kept holding Aidan's hand as they worked on her. I knew it was hopeless but I so wanted to hope. Occasionally a monitor would blip and I kept praying for a miracle. The social worker got brave and approached me again and asked for Aidan's name. They had her first name but not her last. I told her Grew and she didn't understand me. People are forever getting it wrong--Drew, Crew. I spelled it. Her eyes got wide and she whispered "Michael?" I said "Yes, this is our youngest." After that she left me alone. The doctors and nurses tried but the doctor came to me and said the most terrible words for a parent to hear. "We have tried everything but there is no response." I said very quietly, "I know." I don't remember after that other than they stopped everything and let me pick her up. I had brought her favorite blanket and wrapped her in it. They brought me a rocking chair and I sat down holding my baby and rocking her. That is when Mike came in with the older children. They hadn't had lights and sirens to help them through the traffic. They were all crying. I wasn't--there were no tears yet--everything felt so numb. I just sat there rocking and holding my baby. My beautiful beautiful baby. She was 2 year, 3 months, and 20 days old. My golden girl who was our special gift from God.
The hospital asked us about tissue donation and we agreed. Even in death Aidan was able to share her light.
We buried Aidan on August 25, 2003. One of the hardest things I have ever done was go to the mortuary the day before the service to dress my baby. Mike stayed home with Morgan and Malcolm--he could not go. That was all right. I needed him to be with our surviving children. My dear friend Linda went with me. Her daughter Christina had died ten years earlier at five months old and was also buried there. They brought Aidan into the room and I fell to the floor beside her, sobbing. The man, so nice, so sympathetic, offered to help me. I looked at him and told him "You're very nice but she didn't know you. She wouldn't have liked you." Linda helped me dress her in her favorite Nemo overalls and I wrapped her again in her blanket and stroked her hair and rocked my baby one last time. Then I lay her in her casket and filled it with her favorite things. I tucked her Teletubbies--Po and LaLa--under the covers with her and put her to bed one last time with love.
Everyone tells me her service was beautiful. It was graveside on a gorgeous sunny day. We buried her next to Christina so she would have a friend. So many people sent flowers and cards. I remember few words besides the 23rd Psalm and the Lord’s Prayer. Her casket was beautiful. It was handbuilt for her by a very dear friend of ours, Frank. Frank's son, Adam, is four mos. older than Aidan and they would play together. Frank always told Adam “Be nice to her, you’re going to marry her someday.” Our pastor, who had baptized her, read the service with tears rolling down his cheeks and the bagpipers (my husband's family is Scottish) played “Jesus loves the little children” with tears rolling down theirs.
We had been asked if we wanted a private service and said no. We told everyone they were welcome to come. Close to 100 people came. At the end, we gathered everyone around us, gave them all helium filled balloons, and played her favorite song from “Lilo and Stitch”. At the end of the song we all let the balloons go together. I heard one of the children say “Look, they are dancing just like Aidan did.” We gave her back to God in the sunshine surrounded by love.
Aidan, little Boo, we love you and miss you so much. Someday you will be in our arms again. Until then, be joyous and dance in the Light.
We have since learned that drowning is the second leading cause of accidental death in toddlers. Over 4000 children drown every year. We are not careless parents who took chances with our daughter's life. We did all we knew to keep her safe and, heartbreakingly, learned that accidents still happen. We will never understand why, with all she had overcome in her two years, God chose that day to take Aidan to Heaven. Only He has that answer. We are thankful that His arms were open that day to receive her and believe she waits in Heaven for us to someday join her. If you or anyone you know has lost a child to drowning please contact me. I can be reached by leaving your e-mail address with a guestbook entry. Help stop this silent killer.
Memories
If I could have a lifetime wish,
a dream that would come true,
I'd pray to God with all my heart
for yesterday, and you.
A thousand words can't bring you back
I know because I've tried.
And neither will a million tears
I know because I've cried.
You left behind a broken heart
and happy memories too,
Although I never wanted memories
I only wanted you.
Please sign Aidan's guestbook so we know you cared enough to share our story.
|
