Today is December 23rd, 2008. It has been 12 years since my daughter, Danielle, has blessed me with her presence. She was born December 21st, 1996. For those that are not that good at math, that made her 2 days old. She was 1 1/2 to be exact, as she was born in the evening, and died in the morning. I was only able to hold her twice. One time was in the hospital a short time after her birth, as they allowed her out of the incubator, or whatever the hell it was she was in, to be in my arms, but I had to hold an air tube very close to her face to give her oxygen. The next time was after she died, and I sat in a small room holding her, crying my eyes out, wondering why I got there too late to save her like I had the two times before.
She was born at 22 weeks gestation, and the doctors gave her no chance. But she was a fighter, just like her paternal grandfather. She improved rather than regressed, and she was transferred from the hospital to Stony Brook Medical Center. Each time they had to run a test, they would call and tell me "if she doesn't show improvement, we have to take her off support" and each time I would fly to the hospital (by car) to be there. I would see her before the test, talk to her, and when the test was done, she was good and they left her on.
The third test was not the charm. They couldn't wait for me, and I didn't get there fast enough. When I got there, she was off support and gone. Just that quick. I sat there for what felt like forever holding her, crying. Nurses came over to try to comfort me, but it didn't help. I couldn't even feel bad for other parents who had children in there fighting for their own lives. All I could feel was a strange emptiness that wasn't there before.
Yes, I have a son who is going to be 15 next month, and I love him to death. I owe him more than he will ever realize. The loss of my daughter caused my marriage to deteriorate, caused my liver to ALMOST deteriorate, as all I did for awhile was work, drink way too much JD, and gamble. It cost me a house because I just didn't care about anything. I was hurting. It took me 5 years to get my family back. Planning not to screw that up again.
To anyone who has lost a loved one, I sympathise. But look at it this way. You got to spend time with the ones you loved and lost. You had the chance to grow with them, in front of them. I had all of 36 hours. Think of the good. Otherwise you will end up a miserable bastard, which is the way I am feeling today.
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Welcome to the (at times not so much) wonderful world of ME, a big steaming pile of (take your pick of words, insert here). There are times I may (try to be) funny, there are times I'm sincere. Sometimes I end up being both without even trying. But you're here, so I hope I can keep you entertained enough to come back for more.
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