Part 6- Goodbye Hailee Marie

Four o'clock arrived. No matter how much we wanted to put it off, we knew as a family we could not. Of course we had ideas of keeping her on life support while we sat with her longer. Looked at her longer. Held her longer. Somehow though, we did know that we needed to face the inevitable. We announced to every single person that had sat with us these hours, held us and cried with us and for us and for the loss of Hailee, that anyone was welcome to be present in the room at the time of her body's death.

We discussed openly with our visitors that we needed to believe that Hailee had already died, her brain had died and that we were now just releasing her body so she could go to Heaven.

We had probably 15 or 20 people present in her hospital room when it came time to end things. Others waited in the waiting room that elected not to be present. We all said our final goodbyes. We hugged and kissed her, held her hand and prayed together the Lord's prayer. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, our boys and Chad and I. It was hard to breathe. The world was off its axis.

I have seen many deaths as a nurse that has worked in geriatric care for years. This was unlike anything I had ever seen. For the life of me, I could not imagine what would happen. Would her body move, would she gasp for air? What if she gasped for air? Would I jump up and tell them to hook the machine back up again?

I imagined her floating over us above the hospital room, watching us. Wanting to help us. Wanting to tell us it would be okay.

I sat in a rocking chair in the room, because I could not stand. My legs would not hold me. I heard Chad go over to Hailee and tell her he was sorry that he couldn't protect her and that he'd let anything happen to her. (I cry here now, recalling this particular memory).

Finally, yet already, the moment came. The paradox of our existence came full circle. The Doctor and nurses came into the room and began to remove Hailee from the machine that was breathing for her and making her look so peaceful, and alive.

My hands shook, my heart shattered in a million pieces. I wanted to scream STOP! But I said nothing. I looked around the room and saw torture and sadness in the eyes of our loved ones. We were in this together, yet I felt alone. Naked, in a crowd of people. Exposed. Every bit of fear, horror, torment was evident in my body and face, I am sure of it.

Then, the nurse (I think her name was Michelle), told us as kindly as she could that she was going to turn it off. And she did.

We waited and watched as Hailee's living body joined her brain that had gone on ahead of her.

It was fairly uneventful. It was quiet. There was nothing. No movement, no breaths... no real sign that she had gone..... except the machine. When the time came, the nurse turned down the volume on the machine, indicating to us she had gone.

Her beautifully summer tanned skin turned ever so slightly pale. She was gone. ....... gone.

I can't really tell you what happened in the very next moments. A very thick fog resides where that memory is so it is hard for me to try to describe it.

Eventually, we said our last goodbyes and made our way back to the main waiting room. It was a mess in there to be honest! We had more visitors than I think they knew what to do with. We collected our things and prepared to leave the hospital. This was such a somber, somber time.

I imagine the staff at the hospital helped us, and said goodbye to us but I don't really remember it. I do remember them handing me Hailee's personal belongings in a hospital bag. And then, we left. We got in the elevator and starting walking down a very long hallway to find our car. Chad, Marcus, Justin and I.

Our newly numbered family of four left that hospital and left our angel girl there, in a hospital gown waiting to be collected by the funeral home. Leaving without her was one of the most devastating moments. But, what were we to do? It was over. (But, it was just beginning.)

We somehow arrived at our car and got in. I turned around to see my boys in the back seat. Justin was behind Chad and Marcus was in the middle seat. I must have looked confused because he said to me... "I'll take the middle seat and leave the outside seat for Hailee". My precious, protective oldest boy just said and did THE most Man-like, Chivalrous thing I had ever seen. My heart warms right now remembering it.  This is how we rode home. No radio. No talking. Windows cracked open, hot air coming in the car. How dare it be so nice out?

The only thing that was discussed on the way home was from me. I told all the boys/ men in that car that no matter what happens, we all have to stick together. Each persons thoughts are important and need to be said right away. No harboring feelings. We need to just say it out to one another and everyone needs to be there for one another. It was agreed. This is what we would do. It was our very first plan for the future that we had and we were going to stick to it. It was a very long, long ride home.

More to come,

Heidi