Rowan’s Last Day With Us

Rowan was always very awake and alert in the mornings. Yesterday morning Rowan didn’t really “wake up”.  He sort of moved around a tiny bit but didn’t open his eyes. Evelyn, Doc, and I ate breakfast together and Evelyn asked if she could go to her grandma’s house to play.  We told her that was fine and soon shipped her and her backpack off to Grandma’s House.

Early afternoon, I decided that I was going to hold Rowan and sing to him for a while.  We had spent some time catching up on laundry and cleaning the house with Rowan sleeping in the room with us.

When I went to pick him up, I realized that he was very limp.  He did not stir at all.  He was still breathing, but was comatose. 

Tears came as I realized that he was finally at the end state.  He wasn’t going to smile again or wake up or look at me or pull my hair.  We’d passed all of that.

I brought the candles into his room and Doc and I switched off holding him and talking to him.  Telling him stories, singing him songs, anything to let him hear our voice and know that he was not alone. 

We decided to call my Mom and ask her to keep Evelyn.  We didn’t think that seeing him in the state he was would make sense to her. We also thought that Rowan may have gotten worse because he wanted to die without Evelyn here to spare her the confusion of watching the event of death.

As it grew dark outside, I brought our candles and Rowan in to our bedroom.  I sat holding him, scratching his head softly like he always liked and holding his hand.  I had a text conversation with Becky (Oakes’ mom) and she brought up that maybe Rowan knew he needed to go but there was a part of him that was just very sad and heartbroken that he had to.

I realized that in all my conversations with Rowan about how he would be okay and we would be okay and it was okay for him to go, I never told him that he had to.  So I talked to Rowan and it went something close to this:

“Rowan, sweetheart. You can’t stay. I know it’s not fair. We want you to be able to stay and I know you want to stay too, but sometimes we cannot have what we want.  Just because we don’t like that your body cannot get better and you cannot wake up again doesn’t make it any less true.  We cannot change the truth. It is time for you to go. We can cuddle a little longer, but you have to go sweetheart. You will be safe. Wherever you are going you will be at peace and surrounded by our love. 

Do you see your blue string? Mommy and Daddy have an invisible one.  We will send you our love all the time. And we will stay with you. You have to do this. We can’t do it for you, but you won’t be alone.”

I held him for a few hours and as it was getting later and later, Doc and I decided we should try to go to bed. I told Rowan that I was going to make him a bed and we would be here in the room with him.  I brought in the pack and play and set it up.  I made him a bed out of his favorite blankets.  I laid him down in his blue and green (our family colors) outfit and covered him with his monkey blanket…and as I did, I noticed his pauses in breathing were growing longer.  I held one hand and Doc joined me, holding the other.

Doc placed his hand on Rowan’s chest.  His heart beat was slowing down.  He was only taking soft breaths three or four times a minute. We told him we loved him. We told him it was okay. We told him we were here and we were proud.  Then slowly, his heart rate slowed, until it no longer beat.

When his heart stopped, I could feel that he was gone as I was holding his hand. Doc and I said goodbye for the last time.

I was scared to see someone die for the first time. I was afraid I would be scared and not brave for Rowan.  The truth was that it was bizarre, to see his chest rise and fall so peacefully and for it to stop. I watched him thinking he looked as if any moment he’d breath again. As his end had approached, I realized that Rowan no longer looked like a baby. He looked like a person. He looked wise.  He was beautiful.

My son came naked by night, alone and very hungry; yet he was not afraid.

My son left clothed in his family colors, watched over by his mother and father, not hungry, not hurting; and he was not afraid.

I can feel that he is with others. Our bond feels different now, but I still feel that he can sense me and that I can hear him in my heart.

Rowan’s light is no longer in his body.  It’s held in the thousands of hearts that hold him dear.

And it SHINES