A Mothers Sacrifice #Wattys2017 COMPLETE

18 - MIRACLE NEEDED

We sat with our son one of us on each side holding one of his small hands each. There were tubes from his little arms, coming from his mouth - everywhere.

Sol was watching him intently, watching his chest rise and fall. As if his life depended on it he didn't look away, not even for a second.

Not daring to speak we absorbed the devastating news just so cruelly delivered to us. I just couldn't believe it. We had come so far how could this be.

Their words reeled around my head, echoing.

I couldn't believe this was happening, things were going so well until the crash. The tests were showing that Sol was a good prospect as a donor and for once in eight years we had real hope for a brighter future.

In forty eight hours that had all been taken from us. The worst fear of any parent was becoming a reality.

Poor Cam would beat herself up about it when she became aware. She would blame herself I know she would. This was partly the reason I hadn't been to see her yet. Never being able to successfully lie to Cam I know even after a heart attack she was still an effective human lie detector. Deciding not to tell Cam what we were facing was a decision I found hard to make, however given what she had just been through any stress could be fatal.

Although I felt awful for not going to see her I knew she would understand completely. Her friend May who she spent a lot of time with at various clubs was visiting daily, so I knew she would be getting everything she needed.

ICU was a quiet place, apart from the machines. Nurses and doctors spoke in hushed tones and moved around going about their business almost silently.

Malachi was in a part of the ICU only separated by a glass divider with a removable screen in front. It was a fairly spacious room, all open plan with the only privacy being provided by these portable screens. The room had a total of four beds in. Each bed had at least one nurse assigned to it. The other two beds were empty, down the other end of the room was a small cot and a baby. The parents were sat nervously keeping watch over their poorly baby. Something I remembered all too well.

When Malachi was born we spent a good bit of time in NICU, a very similar room to this. The mother looked up and smiled. Nothing needed to be said here. Everyone hoped the best for one another and feared the worst. Apart from pleasantries no one held any real conversation. It was like an unspoken understanding that we were not to be distracted from praying for our child's lives silently.

The air is full of expectations and nervousness. Dark and eerily quiet your only noises is that of machinery that you relied upon to keep your child alive. No smiles here. No balloons or flowers. There wasn't an awful lot to celebrate in ICU. All we could do here was hold on to that slither of hope still remaining. We prayed that death didn't know their names, that he stayed far away.

They couldn't tell us how long Malachi had before things took a turn for the worse but it was imminent and sooner rather than later.

Despite the nurses pleas for us to rest and eat we couldn't leave his side.

I kept hoping they had got it wrong, looking at him he seemed to be just asleep. He didn't look to be in grave danger. His face had started to swell slightly but he was still my perfect boy.

The consultant had explained that the impact had in fact bruised his lungs where the seatbelt held him safely. On a healthy child they would normally recover well. With Malachi it had led to fluid retention causing fluctuations in his blood pressure putting further pressure on his already struggling kidneys. Internally his poor fragile body just wasn't coping.