Octavia

Mother to Simon Xavier

November 4th, 2010-March 17th, 2011

Fingerlakes Region, New York

This is my third time trying to type this all out; the first two times I just started crying and couldn’t see enough to type. Somehow, today I’m better.

Simon was my surprise. Somehow I fell into the 2% that condoms fail for. I found out I was pregnant when I went in for a regular check-up to get more migraine medicine. It turns out I was four months along and had no idea, I had recently begun throwing up, but at the time I thought I was coming down with the flu.

My first reaction to discovering I was pregnant was utter shock and tears. My boyfriend, B, on the other hand, was delighted.

When I told some of my friends I was pregnant they suggested because I was only 18, having an abortion, that thought had never crossed my mind until some uncaring individuals brought it up. I loved my baby as soon as I knew he was there.

I found out I was pregnant exactly 3 weeks before I was going to start Culinary School in Hyde Park, NY. Instead, I started working and moved into a house with my boyfriend. I spent all my free time reading copious books on babies and doing research to find out the best baby products.  We prepared a “nursery” for the baby, which I found out happened to be a boy on my first OB/GYN visit. I stopped working a month before Simon was due, just in time too because he ended up being 2 1/2 weeks early, but was born after 2 hours of labor and no painkillers, perfectly healthy.

Five days after he was born he went in for a check-up and ended up being admitted into the hospital through the ER, due to really high bilirubin levels. (his father and I thought he looked a bit yellow, but the first doctor we saw said it was just his coloring due to his heritage) That was the (first) scariest time of my life because I could not stand watching him be prodded in that little bed with wires on his feet, blindfolded with lights all around him. I stayed awake and next to him for the full 2 days he was in there.

Fortunately, Simon got better and managed to get nice and plump and wonderfully healthy. He spent pretty much his whole life staying home with me, due to the weather being so cold and awful.  St. Patrick’s Day was the first warm day we had, so B, Simon and I took our dog for a walk at the local park and strolled Simon around. It was Simon’s first time in his stroller and he loved it. He kept giggling.

Later that night, Simon was napping next to his daddy on the couch, while I did the dishes and cleaned up. I kept going over and checking on Simon every 15 minutes, even though his father was right there watching the news. I finished the dishes and went to pick up Simon…he looked normal, just like he was sleeping, I picked him up to check his diaper and he was completely limp in my arms. I laid him on his changing table and began tickling his feet and freaking out when he did not respond and appeared not to be breathing. B called 911 and started doing CPR on Simon after we took off his clothes.

The police and ambulance arrived and I let them in and put my dog in a bedroom. They put Simon in the ambulance and started arguing about which hospital to take him to. They would not let me go with him no matter how much I pleaded. B and I left the house [while the police were still inside and I had not shoes on] and followed the ambulance to the hospital. The whole way there we were praying for everything to be okay. When we got to the hospital they pulled us aside and asked us all these questions and then finally led us to the room where about 20 people were working on my baby. He was naked except for his socks and was hooked up to all these machines which were blinking and making noise. The first thing I noticed was that he had a poopy butt and I can remember thinking, “I need to get some wipes and clean him off, I don’t want him having a diaper rash.” It all just seemed so unreal and everything was happening so slowly.

They worked on Simon for 2 hours, even letting his father do CPR every few beats. They shut the machines on silent because they noticed the beeeeeeeeeeeeep instead of beep beep beep was bothering me. I kept leaving the room to throw-up and every time I left the police and nurses would watch me and shake their heads.

They said the problem was his heart; it just did not want to beat continuously. B called his brother-in-law, an award winning heart-surgeon and had him talk to the doctors. We asked if anything could be done and they all said no. Everyone was crying.

They let B do the last of the CPR while I stood there holding Simon’s tiny hand and wiping the blood off his nose.

After getting two other doctors opinions, they declared Simon dead at 9:32pm. All the people left the room and left us alone with Simon. We took all the tubes out of him, put some band-aids on him, cleaned him up and inquired about a diaper for him.

The hospital chaplain came in and we sent her away because she smelled like smoke and alcohol.  B called a priest and we sent the police to go and pick up Simon’s grandmother.

We spent the rest of the night and early hours of the morning holding and loving our baby. We wrapped him up in a blanket and took turns kissing him. I had to cover his face after the rigor mortis set in because it did not look like him, B’s mother uncovered it to kiss him and I started screaming that was not my baby, that’s not what he looked like! We left Simon at 5 am with his grandmother, they had to bring him to the morgue, but they promised us his grandmother could stay there with him until he was picked up by the coroner.

The next morning we called to inquire where he was, and the hospital staff did not know. They told us he was being transported for his autopsy, but they did not know where that would take place. After many phone calls the funeral director B had spoken to yesterday told us where Simon was and who was doing the autopsy.

B’s sister arrived that morning and together we went and picked out a small coffin. It’s awful to even think that they even make small coffins.

Simon’s service was the following Monday and it was as nice as a funeral for a baby could be. Only family and a few friends came because we didn’t want to be overwhelmed by people we didn’t know…the public. We didn’t even have an obituary published.

We still have not gotten the blood work for the autopsy back yet, but seeing as when he went in for bilirubin he had a tremendous amount of blood tests done (to check for g6pd and other things) we are all pretty sure they’ll be blank; infact, his doctor and the medical examiner are calling it SIDS.

Although I have many pictures of Simon (some even from the day he died) I have only been able to hang one up so far, because that is all I can stand.

We go to his grave site, where he is buried on his great grandfather twice a week and slowly are getting used to life without our baby and hoping for the future.

I still wake up at night and get up looking to feed my baby. I see other parents with there babies and get dreadfully sad. I can’t stand mothers yelling at their infants and went as far as to tell one mother her baby could not understand her yelling in the grocery store last week. I look at Simon’s pictures and his half-blank baby book and ask myself Why?

He was so perfect. He was so smart, standing and using his walker at 4 months, rolling over back to front, babbling to his mommy and trying to steal the dog’s toys and laughing at her. Simon was such a good baby, he never had colic, he would cry, but would stop as soon as he was held, he loved being in his baby bjorn. He was almost sleeping through the night. He loved bath time. I was such a cautious mother, doing everything “right” waiting until 4 months before he got his first taste of rice cereal mush, never putting on his belly to sleep, making sure he got 15 minutes of tummy time a day. He had his first and only play date the weekend before he died and the other baby was huge, even though he was younger than Simon, he was big and sluggish and his mother told me, enjoyed watching TV and eating ice cream occasionally. Simon never watched television, he never had anything to eat but rice cereal mush mixed with breastmilk or his supplemental formula. After Simon died,  the few mothers I had made friends with started avoiding me, one even suggested I had [accidentally]  suffocated or overheated my baby, because SIDS could be prevented, she told me.  My grandmother told me to start praying to be sure Simon made it to Heaven. I know I did nothing wrong and Simon never did anything wrong he was a perfect innocent little baby. I believe all babies go to Heaven and I like to think of Simon up there watching me.

You can contact Octavia at octavia.flynnrobinson@gmail.com

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Comments

  1. Octavia, sometimes you think you are the only one that suffers, but reading your testimony… there’s no words!!! The pain that you feel know is so big, there’s no enough words to ease it!. But, as I always say, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel and trust me, you are going to find it some day!!!. I don’t know if you believe in God, but let me tell you that He is right there with you…He let you meet your beautiful son, yes, I know, he died, but he left you something beautiful that only yourself are going to find, one day, not know, in the future, when you have more babies…there’s always a reason why things happen, and only life tells you on the right day, at the right time!. Go on with your life, do something that you like, fight for a new start, but don’t be depressed! You are not alone and we are here to support you! You are worth it! And your son is looking after you from Heaven, because needed another angel with him…I have two up there, remember that!

    • octavia says:

      Elvisay,
      Thank you for your kind words of support and reminders of not to to be sad, I’ll be thinking of you and your two angels.

  2. Kim says:

    I wish I could reach through the computer screen and hug you. I wish we could all go back to March 1. I wish this didn’t happen. My heart breaks reading your post, and at the same time, your tribute to Simon is so amazing. I feel like I know your little boy by the way you describe him.

    • octavia says:

      Kim,
      Thank you.
      Everyday I wish I could go back in time, and some nights I have dreams Simon is still here and then wake up to this harsh reality.
      It’s juts awful to think that they make small coffins and even worse to know that babies can die for no reason at all.

  3. Amy says:

    Octavia I’m so so sorry for the loss of your little Simon. Your story touched my soul and I’m thinking of you. I live kind of close to you in upstate PA and that’s what drew me in to read your story especially. I can’t imagine the pain you are living with. My thoughts are with you.

  4. Mirne says:

    I’m so sorry to read your story about your beautiful boy. I’ve lost three children. A little girl, Freyja, who was stillborn at 28 weeks, a son, Kees, who was a SIDS baby at 7 weeks, and our son, Jethro, who was a SIDS baby at 3 days. I know what it’s like. xx

    • octavia says:

      Mirne,
      There are no words for me to say that would express how I feel for you. I can’t even imagine having to lose two babies let alone three. I’m so sorry that you had to experience that! I hope you’re healing and if you ever feel a need to rant or talk you can contact me.

  5. Jessica says:

    I’m so very sorry for the loss of your sweet Simon. People can say and do awful things but the truth is that you did nothing wrong and couldn’t have prevented this and it’s not your fault. Sending thoughts and prayers.

    Jessica

  6. Diana says:

    Octavia,

    It is heartbreaking to read your story, my prayers are with you and with his father during this difficult time. I can’t imagine the pain and loneliness you feel right now, but yet you’re so strong. It is sad to see how some mothers can mistreat their children not realizing how many others wish they could have little angels of their own. God knows why He does the things He does, but I am sure He has many more blessings for you and some day you will be reunited with Simon. God bless you.

    Diana

  7. Elise says:

    Hi Octavia,
    First let me tell you how sorry I am for your loss. It is such a horrible experience to go through.
    My name is Elise, and my husband and I just lost our precious baby girl 5 weeks and 4 days ago. They too, are calling it SIDS. I was asleep with Madeline which makes it even more horrible to think that perhaps I did it, perhaps I could have prevented it, all of the “what if’s” that go through the mind are CRAZY!! I still wake up in a panic. My breast still tingle even though my milk has been dried up for weeks. I just am so sorry for your loss and I truly do understand how you feel. You were the perfect mom to a perfect little boy. I am praying for you and your family.

  8. Heather says:

    Octavia, I am so very sorry for the loss of your little Simon. You’re right, we do have a lot of similarities in our stories.
    I too, lost contact with a lot of people after losing our daughter…not so much that there were whispers that we had “done” anything, (and how perfectly AWFUL for someone to say) but just because some people didn’t know how to react….almost like it was more awkward for them than me. You did nothing wrong, just as we did nothing wrong.
    It also took several weeks for all of our autopsy results to be in…all the blood chemistry screenings they do. It took me 3 years to actually contact the Medical Examiners office and ask for a copy of the autopsy report. Hardest thing i have ever read in my life…and all to show that there was nothing clinically wrong. I did find out though, that the paramedics had regained a pulse in Gabby just before leaving our house, but she just wouldn’t stay with us….which reminded me of your story too.
    I hope you’re doing well….it’s been such a short time since your loss, and i can tell you the pain of it never goes away. It gets easier to cope with, but mine is never more that a wandering thought, and i’m in tears again. We have a little boy now, who is 2, and he has helped us learn how to smile and laugh again, but some days are still really hard. Hang in there…and message me if you ever need an ear.

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