miss morgan

December 12, 2013

revisiting this, as i do every year around this time - a few thoughts occur to me:  the absolute worst thing (for me) in what you are about to read, the one thing that makes me literally sob every time i read it is the vision of her tear-stained cheeks as she lay sleeping.  knowing now what she went through with that spinal tap, not understanding - just feeling pain and not being able to find her mama's eyes, arms or voice anywhere...i left her alone with strangers that hurt her.  my one real regret is not being there for her at that moment.  it wrenches my heart and breaks me all over again.  still - after 23 years.

(February 15, 2008)

today is the day my oldest daughter turns 18 years old. holy shit - think of the access to cool clothes i would have had...

(Friday, December 21, 1990):

i woke up to the sounds of my little girl "talking" to herself in her crib - she was sporting a bit of a snotty nose as she had had a few ear infections in the last month or so and one was just hanging on. never one to whine for long, her mood was as cheery and as anticipatory as ever. it was a few days before Christmas and we (and i use this term very loosely) had made cookies the night before and had them all wrapped up to give the other few kids at daycare. it was 8 am and we were off to lucille's house and my office. i had come to terms with having to leave her with someone during the day so i could work. lucille hollingsworth was a very sweet white-haired 70ish grandma that loved everything about baby's - this chick was a howitzer too; all of the reservations i might have had about her age were loudly answered by her strength, her stamina and her zest for life. i hated that i had to leave her with ANYone, but morgan and i had developed a nice weekday schedule and where sometimes i simply fell asleep on the floor while she crawled all over me, we spent some yummy mom/girl time each evening after work.

as i remember it, work was uneventful except for the coolness of it being friday and the girl and i were going to wrap up our Christmas shopping and have a birthday dinner for my mom (her birthday was coming up on the 23rd) the following night. i got a call at about 2 pm from lucille saying that morgan didn't seem to be feeling well, she was running a fever but that she had taken some children's tylenol and was now sleeping. we decided she would call me back when she woke up and take it from there. as i mentioned, she was prone to ear infections and had been on antibiotics for what seemed like forever - fevers were definitely not unheard of with this kid. i ended up leaving work about 4pm when lucille said morgan had woken up but was still feeling crummy - i cleared it with "the boss" aka my MIL and off i went.


i don't remember a whole lot about that evening except we tried to read a book on the couch but she was too crabby to sit still, so i fed her and gave her a warm bath. she took more tylenol at about 6pm and she fell asleep in my arms around 7. i put her to bed and, for whatever reason, opened some peas (the things we remember) and ate them cold from the can as my dinner. i watched a bit of tv and talked to mike on the phone. things weren't going so well between us for various reasons, but it was Christmas and we had decided that he would come up from sacramento that night to spend the weekend. i remember thinking i wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show up until the next day, as he was out with friends when i talked to him at about 9pm. i fell asleep on the couch and my girl woke me up at about 11pm chatting to herself in her room. she was cool to the touch and seemed happy. i got her up and warmed a bottle for her. we snuggled for a bit and then i put her back in her bed and off i went to mine. thank God her fever had broken, we hadn't finished up our shopping, but still had a couple of days for that. also, i wouldn't have to call off the birthday dinner for my mom. mike still wasn't here when i went to bed around midnight.

i woke the next morning about 6am to a moaning sound accompanied by a bumping noise coming from morgan's room. i went to check her and found her on her back, kind of lolling her head back and forth, unaware that i was even there. she usually did this excited little dance when i went in to get her in the mornings, something was definitely wrong. i picked her up and she was still cool to the touch, but she was moaning as if her body just ached. i put her into my bed and called her pediatrician's office, told them she was acting kind of weird and to please have the doctor call me back as soon as possible, she knew of morgan's medical history and i figured she would be the best place to start. when she called me back about 15 minutes later, my daughter had seemed to be perking up a bit. i explained the situation from the previous day to her and she advised me, that even though she seemed to be feeling better, i should still head to the emergency room "just to be safe". ok, doctor's not freaked, i don't need to be but it's hard, i was shaken just didn't really know why...just gonna get her checked out, we'll be home for lunch - i pulled something out of the freezer to thaw, grabbed a blanket for my girl and off we went. looking back on it, i now know that her doctor was worried, just composed as to not instill any panic in me.

i remember vividly what an absolutely gorgeous day that saturday was shaping up to be. it was a clear, breezy, crisp day in late december...i remember thinking we could probably go to the park later if morgan was feeling better, well if i bundled her up really well because the wind might hurt her ears. i parked at the hospital, went around and collected her up out of the car seat and wrapped her chubby little legs in the blanket - jeez what a loser, i hadn't taken the time to get her dressed, she was in a diaper and t-shirt. i carried her into the emergency room and she just kind of laid her head on my shoulder, she had moaned a bit when i picked her up and she seemed to be falling asleep again. not one to freak out without a really good reason, i waited my turn in line at the emergency room window and calmly explained to the nurse that i wasn't sure what was wrong but that she had had a fever and just didn't seem to have much energy. previous visits had prepared me to sit and wait for the triage nurse to evaluate her and fit us in when possible, so as i prepared to do just that, the nurse reached over the counter and just took her from me. she urgently called to someone named laura and whisked my daughter back into the depths of the emergency room.

being a bit disoriented and still pretty clueless, i just stood there at the window. "laura" motioned for me to have a seat and told me she'd be right back. a few minutes later she called me back into the room and explained to me that morgan shouldn't be as listless as she was. she quickly asked me about any medications she was on and told me that they would need to run some tests. i could come back with her "for now". huh? what the hell does that mean? i found out rather quickly. after hooking morgan to a few monitor wires and taking numerous notes, the doctor said something to the nurse and i was whisked outside the privacy curtain where she urgently explained to me that they needed to run a particular test that was going to physically hurt my daughter quite a bit. they explained something that i had heard of before, but only as a joke about a rock band. i had no idea what a legitimate spinal tap was, what it was for, or why it would hurt my child but hey, they seemed to think she needed it - the only decision i needed to make was whether or not i wanted to be in the room when they did it. the nurse suggested that i should probably wait in the waiting room, that i would be rejoined with morgan as soon as they were finished with their test. she also asked if i wanted to talk to someone. i had no clue what this meant and said that i was fine.

confused and rattled, but not yet completely alarmed, i kind of wandered out to the waiting room to think about what the hell was happening. i was all alone. i had called my mom and morgan's dad, craig to tell them where we were and that i didn't have any other information, but maybe they should come down so the doctor's could explain it, and i sat down to wait. that's when the nun and the priest walked in and sat on either side of me; that's also when the first of the real fear began to creep into my heart. within minutes i would begin to process the very high possibility that my life was more than likely about to be turned upside down. what i would fail to process was the probability that my world would be completely shattered before the morning was over.

i don't remember the nun or the priest actually telling me what i should be worried about, i only remember them asking me if i wanted to pray. uhm...ok? never having been incredibly religious, and certainly not catholic - they made me nervous. they were so serious and i still had no clue why they didn't have anything better to do than to wait with me. surely, there were people in greater need around here, it's a hospital - people are dying around here. but ok...praying couldn't hurt right, whatever it was for? i realize how naive and clueless i sound and looking back i truly was. i was 25 and, although i was basically raising my 10 month old daughter alone, i had tons of love and wonderful support from everyone around me. my life had been fairly "normal" up to this point and because of that, i had developed a good deal of trust and a lot of faith in the "good things happen to good people" rule...what's the worst-case scenario? my daughter was in good hands, i mean where is better than the hospital right? whatever was wrong with her would get cleared up, we'd go home and life would continue. yea, it might screw things up a bit regarding Christmas if she was still too sick to be around everyone, but hell that could be worked around. when the nurse came out to get me, i was ready...bring it on, i could handle whatever was wrong, just let me get back to my girl. i was sure she was wondering where the hell i was and why i was letting all these strangers poke and prod her. she needed her mama.

when i went back into her curtained-off area she was laying on her back with all kinds of tubes attached to her. she had tear stains on her cheeks, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully now. relieved, i asked them what the heck had just happened? when could i take her home? her pediatrician had finally arrived and i could hear her at the desk, on the phone scrambling for what sounded like large amount's of type A+ blood. while i stroked my girl's still almost-bald head, i watched her sleep and found myself saying "please feel good, please feel good, please feel good...you're my baby girl and all i want is for you to just feel good." the doctor came into our area and sat with me explaining that my girl had a severe case of meningitis. she explained that she had been moaning because her head hurt terribly and then she explained what happens to the lining of the brain with this particular infection. she explained that she was gathering enough plasma for a complete transfusion in the hopes that getting the infected blood out of her as soon as possible would lend her little body a helping hand in fighting what had invaded her body. she prepared me for the possibility of her having to stay in the hospital for a few weeks and i remember thinking "crap, over Christmas and New Year's". i was still so, so stupid - within hours i would be making deals with God, begging him to keep her in the hospital for a year, ten years, the rest of her life, whatever just please, dear God, keep her here where she will be safe, where they can help her feel better. please don't take her away from here for good.

shortly after the doctor bustled off, i was standing at a desk signing my name to papers that gave them permission to do whatever they deemed necessary to "fix" her; when i noticed increased activity behind me. i don't remember much about those next moments, what i do remember is finding myself in a closed-off room with morgan's dad and maybe some other people, maybe my mother-in-law i'm not sure. i don't know when i got there or when they got there. i don't know how long i had been there before i was being told by a nurse, i think, that i should get to morgan's side as soon as possible. she was dying. next thing my memory shows me is her body laying on her back, arms and legs spread with so, so many needle marks on her little body. both sides of her pelvic area and her armpits were covered with bruised pinpricks where they had searched for veins large enough to start IV's in, hoping that flooding her body with new, fresh, purely uncontaminated blood would breathe life back into her perfect little body. it hadn't worked. she had stopped breathing before i pulled back the curtain. she was gone.

i know that i was being led back to that room. i know that i collapsed trying to get to a counter to lean on. i know that i was back in the room and my entire family was now there. i was in a chair with my mom kneeling on the floor in front of me, gripping my hands and trying, in vain, to not only channel all of the strength she could possibly muster into me, but to do it while trying to control her own stunned disbelief and piercing grief. i know that i was inconsolable and i remember vividly seeing her finally give into the weight of her grief when she realized there was nothing she could do for me. neither one of us could help our daughters in the time of their greatest need. i watched her literally crumble onto the floor in front of me. i realized that i was seeing nothing but a shell where she had just sat. i believed at that moment that something devastating had happened to her soul. i swear i watched it all but leave her body. i still remember the blue sweater she was wearing, i know that i never saw it again. kathy's call was transferred into the room and i remember her voice pleading with me to tell her everything was alright. i will never forget her sobs and her repeated screams of "no, no, no, no...!" coming through the phone.

i was asked if i wanted to spend some last moments holding my little girl. i know i was petrified. i was afraid of how she would feel physically and i told the nurse that. she told me that my daughter was now an angel sleeping on earth. she told me that she was beautiful and at peace. she was no longer in pain and she was holding hands with God. she told me i had nothing to worry about - my daughter felt absolutely perfect. she was right. morgan looked as if she was falling asleep...her eyes were almost completely closed and she looked like she did when it was snuggle time just before bed. her daddy was holding her when i got there and he looked up at me with what has to be the most concentrated, pure and raw grief i have ever seen. his eyes still haunt me.

my baby girl was wrapped up in her blankie and she was still so warm. i snuggled her up and buried my face into her neck and pleaded with her "please let me see your smile one last time. i didn't know the last one was the last one. i didn't cherish it long enough. i didn't know i would never see it again. i need to see your goofy smile one final time - please just wake up and smile. just one smile would save my heart from breaking into a thousand pieces." i don't know how long we sat there passing her back and forth, kissing her fat cheeks, smelling her yummy baby smell, stroking her soft skin. just waiting for a smile that never came.

i remember refusing to go back into that room of sorrow. i couldn't breathe in there. the grief was literally suffocating. i couldn't look at my mother knowing that her inability to console me had cost her something she couldn't afford to give up. i'm not a wallower. i need to move, i need to breathe. i headed outside to stand overlooking the hills. i felt the cold breeze on my face and thought, "i woke up this morning with my girl, tonight i will go to bed no longer being that sweet little girl's mama." it was the clearest, most awful moment of my life. how do you go about your life when your main reason for it is so suddenly taken away?

Christmas was 3 days later and we half-heartedly went ahead with our plans. it was to be morgan's first Christmas and there were so many gifts for her - what do you do, shove them all away in the closet? leave them under the tree unopened? some were pulled and shoved away, some sat unopened. i left the room  in tears a couple of times as it hit me that my baby girl would never shred Christmas paper, she would never play in the empty boxes. she was truly gone and my life felt completely void of anything but excruciating grief.

i think the hardest part for me was looking at the world around me go on as if nothing had changed. for most of them, it hadn't. not their fault, just something i was so totally aware of. driving down the road, seeing people in their cars just living their lives - happy, mad, whatever...they were still living, i no longer felt that i was. another obstacle was overhearing moms yelling at their kids. hearing kids crying. looking at the people who didn't deserve to still have their babies when mine was gone. why mine and not theirs? the one thing i needed was a reason - and there was none. never have i been more sure of the fact that i could not care any less if tomorrow never came. i dreaded tomorrow. tomorrow meant pain. tomorrow brought more disbelief and tears. tomorrow brought memories, but worst of all...i knew that tomorrow would begin to erase her face a little more.  i have never more desperately wanted my life to end.

i never returned to our home - never, not one time. my friend kathy and my SIL monica went in and packed up everything. it was a wonderful gesture that i didn't really appreciate until later. i didn't want any of it - i wanted to walk away from everything that morgan ever touched, ever looked at, ever thought about. i had no need for any of it. later of course, i was grateful to have everything i could get ahold of. there is only one thing i've never been able to face in 18 years. kathy had a saved message on her answering machine from the week before morgan died. we had called her for some reason and i gave morgan the phone to let her "talk". kathy tells me that they are the sweetest sounds she's ever heard - i still can't listen to them.

morgan's funeral isn't incredibly clear. we had her cremated, as the thought of my child laying in the ground was absolutely unbearable to me. her favorite little white bear was cremated alongside her - weird, i know - i just didn't want to send her in there all alone. at the funeral, [for which, her daddy gets full credit - he did everything, all i did was sorta show up] there was the smallest casket i had ever seen. like for a doll. i remember a story the pastor told about watching morgan drift over the horizon on a boat...he said that we were seeing her depart, but that, at the exact same time, others were watching her arrive. whoa.

when it was over i remember walking to the front of the room, turning and seeing what seemed like hundreds of people...sitting, standing - they were packed into this room, two days after Christmas, on this most miserable of all days - showing their love, their support and their grief. it hit me that she had affected every single one of these people in her 10 short months; imagine what she could have done in 10 decades. i remember feeling an actual smile, followed by a wrenching sense of loss at that.

i had a dream about a month after she died...it's hazy now, but i know that in my dream i was looking for her and couldn't find her. i was running around the house calling for her, getting increasingly panicked - i thought she was hiding from me. i yelled for my mom and when she came into the room i asked her where morgan was. she looked at me, smiled and pointed over behind a big table, "she's right there shawna, she's been there the whole time." i looked over at her and she showered me with the greatest smile i've ever seen. the relief i felt was almost unbearable...and interestingly, it continued to flow through me even after i woke up. something had changed - she had touched me. i have no doubts that she had come to me in her way and reassured me that she would never really be gone. she brought me that last smile, i began to heal.

it's been 18 years since i bore that little 10 pound, 4 ounce girl, 18 years since i looked at her in awe and wondered what in the hell i had done to deserve such a gift. it has been just over 17 years since i last saw her, but december 22 isn't a day of mourning for me. it's a day of remembrance and a day of love. it's a day that changed my life. it's a day that made me a better person, and more importantly a better mom. it's a day that i thank God for the days that He gave me with her. i wouldn't trade any of them, not even december 22, 1990.