Mom to C.R.

Born May 18th, 2011

Died May 19th, 2011

Biloxi, Mississippi

To say that I never thought this could happen to me– to us– my family–  is a gross understatement.  I was happily pregnant with my second son who was to be delivered 5 days prior to his due date via a repeat c-section.  My pregnancy was, for the most part, fantastic.  I had no issues with my health and each and every ultrasound showed a thriving (and big!) baby boy.  Our sweet C was the perfect was to complete our family.  The RCS was easy– I laughed and joked with the CRNA and chatted during the surgery.  I still remember that swelling in my heart and the welling of tears in my eyes as my wonderful doctor rumbled around behind the curtain.  My husband and I laughed with each other and he snapped a silly picture of my face.  Moment later, Collins was born, all 9 lbs 1 oz of chubby perfection!  He yelled and I just knew my world was complete.  He hollered and grabbed the OB’s gown as she lifted him from me.  He began grunting– having breathing issues– almost immediately.  I kissed his sweet lips 3 times and he was whisked to the NICU.  I sensed something was wrong but tried to talk myself out of it.  Even the doctor, in a loving way, told me to hush and that it would all be okay.  

I held my son for the first time as they removed him from the machines keeping him alive.  His lungs would not function and he was slipping away.  There was nothing they could have detected in utero and there was nothing that anyone could point to that caused the issues.  He suffered from a very rare lung issue and there was no way to know.  The moment of his birth started the tumbling of the dominoes to his death.  Even now that word, death, hurts and seems so foreign. He died in my arms. I went in to have my second son and walked out of the maternity ward through a back door, with nothing but a broken body, shattered heart and a clipping of his dark, soft hair– the only tangible thing of him to which I can cling.  We laid his tiny body to rest on the day that was his original due date.  I feel like I have lived a thousand lifetimes– and I would endure a thousand more just to kiss those sweet, tiny, perfect lips once more.  In the end, it is not about his death, it is about his life– and how precious those moments will be to us, forever.


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  1. I’m so sorry Collin had to go so soon. I know how hollow those words can sound. I lost my daughter on January 17th of this year when she was born silently. It’s a daily struggle and even though nothing can make it okay, kind and loving words have helped me…and so I offer that to you. I wish you healing and peace on this new road.

  2. I am so sorry to read this story, mostly because it’s unthinkable and also because on the day you gave birth to Collin, we were celebrating our daughter’s 2nd Birthday in Heaven. I am so sorry for your loss, but I am so happy that you found this site and also found the courage to share your story with the world. You have helped many, I can assure you. I wish you peace and love in the weeks and months ahead.

  3. Love you so much Nikki. My heart aches for you. You are doing a wonderful thing with Caps From Collins.

  4. <3 you my Nikki

  5. Love you Nikki- thinking of you everyday!!

  6. Much love from us, Nikki!! We talk about you and Collins often! <3

  7. I am so sorry for your loss. We lost our baby boy during labor three months ago today. No parent should have to bury their child. My heart goes out to you and your family. Much love, light, and healing.

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