Elise's Story Part III

It was Monday night. We knew sometime soon we would let our little girl go home. We both dreaded the task of saying goodbye but, at the same time, she needed to be at peace. Hopkins was awesome. Elise was moved to a private room and she was assigned a nurse with no other duties for the night. When we entered her room, she only had the breathing tube and an IV. The nurse helped AJ get situated and he held her first as I sat next to him; I was afraid to hold her. Afraid of my emotions and afraid of how her little body would feel in my arms...that I may not be able to let her go. We talked to her and prayed for her and snuggled with her and tried to commit every moment to memory. We all held her for a long time and gave her so much love. The nurse took a picture of each of us with her. At first, the idea seemed wrong, but we felt we didn't want to leave this most important of nights uncaptured. We still haven't looked at those pictures, but I'm glad we took them.

About 4am my parents arrived from Indiana. My father had not yet met Elise and they spent some quality time together. My father always has his emotions in check and is very laid back about things; it was hard for me to see him where neither of those were true. My mom held Elise and sang to her. Uncle Dave and Aunt Shey arrived soon after and were able to say their goodbyes and give her a ton of love, as well. At 7am, we felt everyone had been able to love her and hold her and say goodbye and we didn't want to continue to prolong her life for our selfish purposes.

The nurse handed my daughter to me for the last time.

I sat in a rocking chair on a pillow. On my lap was our boppy pillow and on top of that, Elise. AJ was in a chair next to me leaning toward her with his arms encircling her. The physician came and turned off the ventilator and removed the breathing tube. We just looked at her beautiful face and felt so much love for her and sadness at the same time. She was the perfect size in my arms, warm and soft, and she was our baby, only 4 days old.

And then she was gone.

AJ new the moment her heart stopped beating. We continued to hold her for a while, kissed and hugged her, and cried with our families. It was heartbreaking for us but not for her...we knew she was now free, not bound to her body, in God's home.

While the nurses gave her a bath, took hand and footprints for us, and made a hand mold, we went for a walk. Bright sun streamed into the hallway and we hugged. We felt that we just did the most difficult thing we've ever had to do and now could begin the process of healing, of moving forward. We tried to find small blessings to hold on to in the midst of this difficult experience and we always maintained that she changed our lives, and many others, forever.

Over the next hour, our family went home and Uncle Dave and Aunt Shey waited to take us home. We gathered all of our things and the NICU team assembled a beautiful memory box. Leaving the hospital and Elise behind was so much more difficult than I had anticipated. AJ and I stood in her room at her cribside and cried. I couldn't believe how much I missed her already. I put my hands on either side of her little body swaddled in a hospital blanket and kissed her. I truly could not imagine ever leaving. This wasn't how it was supposed to be...at all. This little baby that we already loved so much, that was all we had thought about for so many months, she was supposed to be our daughter for the rest of our days and we were ready to be her parents.

But we knew she wasn't there. She was already finished with that body. She would be with us in whatever we did from then on, our angel. We kissed her forehead one last time and walked straight out into a gorgeous fall morning.