Do you ever have a day where you wake up, get ready, and feel beautiful? Like you could take on the world and nothing could stop you? That was how my day started. The sun was shining and birds were singing. The day was beautiful, I was beautiful, life was beautiful.
We rushed through our morning and cleaned up the house. Cammy and I rushed off to get her hair cut. She got the princess treatment, the hair wash, the cape, and the blow dry. I had just had my right eyebrow waxed when my phone started ringing and Cammy started singing, "It's Bart! It's Bart! It's Bart! It's Bart!", and that song told me everything was wrong. There was no reason for him to be calling me. He knew I was getting Cammy's hair cut, and we had only been gone for 20 minutes.
"You need to get home. Something is wrong with Logan."
"OK, what?"
"I don't know, we called an ambulance. Just come home."
"OK, bye."
I told Vanessa that Bart told me and asked if she would take a rain check. I rushed out the door, with only one eyebrow done. I shot up a prayer for peace and started driving. Right when I got to the round about, I saw the ambulance behind me, so I pulled off and took a back way home. I tried calling my Mom, but she didn't answer, so I called my Dad. I shot off that I was driving and to pray because something was wrong. I was speeding through a neighborhood and someone yelled for me to slow down, and out of no where I heard myself yell something about my baby.
When I pulled up, there were two ambulances and maybe 3 or 4 police cars in front of my house. I had to park in front of the neighbors. Bart was there waiting for me and I don't know if I said anything, but he nodded and I ran out of the car. Right when I got to the front of the house, Lucky burst out the door making a noise that probably does have a word, but one that does not define it, and dropped to his knees. I tried picking him up, consoling him, telling him that the EMTs were there. That everything was going to be OK. He was crying that he was dead and begging my forgiveness. I left him there. I tried to run in the house, but an officer stopped me. I told him that I was his mother and gave my name. I demanded to see him. Another officer escorted me to the bedroom.
I said, "He is dead, isn't he?" and the officer started trying to console me. I told him to stop. I needed him to be straight forward with me. I wasn't going to break but I didn't need the bull shit. He opened the door, and by the toy box, I could see my babies silhouette under Owen's monkey blanket. His hands looked like they were trying to push it off. I don't know if I made a noise, but I felt silent. Everything was silent. I pulled back the blanket and he laid there frozen like a bug trapped in amber. He was cold, and frozen, and gone.
I felt a tear escape as I lifted him. I just wanted to hold him, to feel his body against mine one. last. time. Before I got him to me, the officer stopped me and told me it was a crime scene. He took Logan, and gently laid him down and covered him and asked me to leave. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. I wanted to hold my baby, just once, just one last time. Instead I meekly followed him to the living room. He was saying something about grieving and something that was probably meant to be consoling, instead I was eyeing his gun, thinking I was faster than him and if I got it first and scared him, I could go lay down next to Logan. I didn't want to hurt the officer, I just wanted my baby.
The house was taped off. We waited out side. It really was a beautiful day. Cammy picked dandelions and blades of grass and gifted them joyfully to all of us and the officers. Lucky was begging my forgiveness in between phone calls to the family. I kept telling him it wasn't his fault and that I loved him. There was a gentle breeze, a giggling toddler, and my baby cold and alone in the bedroom. Lucky's family had arrived and a detective called me in for questioning. He told me they were going to be hard but standard questions.
"How did your baby die."
"I don't know."
"Why did your husband kill him."
"He didn't and if I had the slightest thought that he did, you would be taking away two dead bodies."
"Has he fallen recently?"
I listed off every single insignificant stumble he might have had, but none that were any cause for alarm.
"Is there abuse in the house?"
"Never."
After what seemed an eternity in the living room, and Logan alone in his room, just feet away from me, the detective apologized for how hard the questions were. He told me for the first time in years, he could go home knowing that there is nothing anyone did. For the first time in years there was no one to blame.
They had Lucky re-enact how they found him with a dummy doll. I was shocked and amazed by how my husband held it together, and how well he responded. I had to sit in the hall way while he did this, and I looked up at the officer next to me and said, "We did this, didn't we. We killed our baby?" I saw the hurt flash across his eyes, and then he asked me, "Did you? Did you kill your baby?". "No, I mean, maybe? I didn't mean to. I tried to do everything right, but there is something else we could have done. There has to be something else..." He told me there was nothing we could have done. That he has seen babies pass away with only the crib mattress on the sheet. He said there was nothing obstructing his air, that we were good parents, and you could feel the love in our house.
More stuff happened and we were told we could say good bye. They had gently and lovingly wrapped Logan in Owen's blanket. He didn't look hurt, or scared, or in pain. He looked asleep. Completely at peace and asleep. I asked if I cold finally hold him. I just wanted to warm up his little hands and feet. I just wanted to feel him against my breast again and maybe, just maybe share a hear beat with him. They said no. So I played with his hands and rubbed his belly. I stroked his downy hair and kissed him. I let myself shed a couple tears as I said goodbye, I knew I would never see him again.
Lucky's family left, expect Megan. Sean came down and maybe Theora... I don't remember much of that night, except feeling blessed that Ian and Bart were with Lucky when it happened, and that we had the kind of friends that we do have. The word "friends" does not give justice to the love we share. We talked into the night. We laughed and some cried...
There was no "Why" to me. I haven't asked.
We rushed through our morning and cleaned up the house. Cammy and I rushed off to get her hair cut. She got the princess treatment, the hair wash, the cape, and the blow dry. I had just had my right eyebrow waxed when my phone started ringing and Cammy started singing, "It's Bart! It's Bart! It's Bart! It's Bart!", and that song told me everything was wrong. There was no reason for him to be calling me. He knew I was getting Cammy's hair cut, and we had only been gone for 20 minutes.
"You need to get home. Something is wrong with Logan."
"OK, what?"
"I don't know, we called an ambulance. Just come home."
"OK, bye."
I told Vanessa that Bart told me and asked if she would take a rain check. I rushed out the door, with only one eyebrow done. I shot up a prayer for peace and started driving. Right when I got to the round about, I saw the ambulance behind me, so I pulled off and took a back way home. I tried calling my Mom, but she didn't answer, so I called my Dad. I shot off that I was driving and to pray because something was wrong. I was speeding through a neighborhood and someone yelled for me to slow down, and out of no where I heard myself yell something about my baby.
When I pulled up, there were two ambulances and maybe 3 or 4 police cars in front of my house. I had to park in front of the neighbors. Bart was there waiting for me and I don't know if I said anything, but he nodded and I ran out of the car. Right when I got to the front of the house, Lucky burst out the door making a noise that probably does have a word, but one that does not define it, and dropped to his knees. I tried picking him up, consoling him, telling him that the EMTs were there. That everything was going to be OK. He was crying that he was dead and begging my forgiveness. I left him there. I tried to run in the house, but an officer stopped me. I told him that I was his mother and gave my name. I demanded to see him. Another officer escorted me to the bedroom.
I said, "He is dead, isn't he?" and the officer started trying to console me. I told him to stop. I needed him to be straight forward with me. I wasn't going to break but I didn't need the bull shit. He opened the door, and by the toy box, I could see my babies silhouette under Owen's monkey blanket. His hands looked like they were trying to push it off. I don't know if I made a noise, but I felt silent. Everything was silent. I pulled back the blanket and he laid there frozen like a bug trapped in amber. He was cold, and frozen, and gone.
I felt a tear escape as I lifted him. I just wanted to hold him, to feel his body against mine one. last. time. Before I got him to me, the officer stopped me and told me it was a crime scene. He took Logan, and gently laid him down and covered him and asked me to leave. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. I wanted to hold my baby, just once, just one last time. Instead I meekly followed him to the living room. He was saying something about grieving and something that was probably meant to be consoling, instead I was eyeing his gun, thinking I was faster than him and if I got it first and scared him, I could go lay down next to Logan. I didn't want to hurt the officer, I just wanted my baby.
The house was taped off. We waited out side. It really was a beautiful day. Cammy picked dandelions and blades of grass and gifted them joyfully to all of us and the officers. Lucky was begging my forgiveness in between phone calls to the family. I kept telling him it wasn't his fault and that I loved him. There was a gentle breeze, a giggling toddler, and my baby cold and alone in the bedroom. Lucky's family had arrived and a detective called me in for questioning. He told me they were going to be hard but standard questions.
"How did your baby die."
"I don't know."
"Why did your husband kill him."
"He didn't and if I had the slightest thought that he did, you would be taking away two dead bodies."
"Has he fallen recently?"
I listed off every single insignificant stumble he might have had, but none that were any cause for alarm.
"Is there abuse in the house?"
"Never."
After what seemed an eternity in the living room, and Logan alone in his room, just feet away from me, the detective apologized for how hard the questions were. He told me for the first time in years, he could go home knowing that there is nothing anyone did. For the first time in years there was no one to blame.
They had Lucky re-enact how they found him with a dummy doll. I was shocked and amazed by how my husband held it together, and how well he responded. I had to sit in the hall way while he did this, and I looked up at the officer next to me and said, "We did this, didn't we. We killed our baby?" I saw the hurt flash across his eyes, and then he asked me, "Did you? Did you kill your baby?". "No, I mean, maybe? I didn't mean to. I tried to do everything right, but there is something else we could have done. There has to be something else..." He told me there was nothing we could have done. That he has seen babies pass away with only the crib mattress on the sheet. He said there was nothing obstructing his air, that we were good parents, and you could feel the love in our house.
More stuff happened and we were told we could say good bye. They had gently and lovingly wrapped Logan in Owen's blanket. He didn't look hurt, or scared, or in pain. He looked asleep. Completely at peace and asleep. I asked if I cold finally hold him. I just wanted to warm up his little hands and feet. I just wanted to feel him against my breast again and maybe, just maybe share a hear beat with him. They said no. So I played with his hands and rubbed his belly. I stroked his downy hair and kissed him. I let myself shed a couple tears as I said goodbye, I knew I would never see him again.
Lucky's family left, expect Megan. Sean came down and maybe Theora... I don't remember much of that night, except feeling blessed that Ian and Bart were with Lucky when it happened, and that we had the kind of friends that we do have. The word "friends" does not give justice to the love we share. We talked into the night. We laughed and some cried...
There was no "Why" to me. I haven't asked.
Oh girl......... So sorry for such a tragic day! You have the ability to say it with words I could never express. I don't think I would have been so controlled with the officer. Your courage and strength are amazing and I know it was from God. You and Lucky are amazing people and parents! Logan was blessed to have you both as parents! Love you!
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