We had debated, the night before, about going over to the NICU early to be with her when she was transported to the CVCC. In the end we decided that we would sleep in a bit and then head to the CVCC when we got up and spend the entire day over there. So we slept in. Sarah says she was awake early enough that she was going to get me up to go to the NICU, but she let me sleep. I was out cold. When I finally got up, we decided to eat breakfast, shower, and get ready to go. I showered while Sarah ordered breakfast and then she showered. While she was in the shower I received a phone call from the CVCC saying that they didn’t like how low her heart rate was and that they were going to put in an external pacemaker. They said not to worry and that they would call us if anything went wrong. Sarah got out of the shower and our food came, so we ate and waited for her next medication, after which we were going to head over there and spend as much time as we could. When we were all packed up and ready to go I got another phone call. The nurse on the other end told me that we needed to get to the CVCC now, the pacemaker hadn’t taken. I dumped Sarah in the wheelchair and proceeded to run with her to the CVCC.
When we got there the first thing we noticed was that there was about 20 people standing outside Danni’s room, watching something going on inside. I remember turning to Sarah and saying “That can’t be good.” Sure enough, it wasn’t. We walked up and the head nurse found us and brought us into the room.
The first thing I noticed was Danni herself. She already looked lifeless lying there on the hospital bed. She wasn’t moving, she wasn’t breathing, and her heart wasn’t beating by itself. Dr. Baker, the cardiologist, was doing chest compressions, and the other doctor was monitoring the screens and looking at x-rays. She wasn’t responding to anything that the doctors did so they ordered everyone out and did another x-ray. When we got back in they did compressions for another couple of minutes as Sarah and I watched, helpless to do anything. Eventually the head doctor turned to us and said they had been trying for 45 minutes with no response and that no change was likely even if they kept at it all day. He wanted our permission to stop and let her go. Not trusting myself to speak right then, I could only nod my head in assent. Most of the people left the room and we held her hand as the “life” left her. Her hand was already cold when we were able to hold it. Sarah and I agreed that she was gone long before we had gotten there.
We were led over to a couch to wait while some nurses and the chaplain prepared her for us to hold for the last time. Sarah and I couldn’t even speak, we just sat holding each other and crying. Eventually she was brought in and Sarah held her. We sat like that for probably an hour while the chaplain, who said she would give us privacy, kept coming in and talking to us and checking on us. I have never wanted to yell at someone so badly in my life, but I still couldn’t even speak let alone yell. I tried to mentally convey to her that we just wanted to be alone, but she didn’t seem to get the message. Finally, she asked if we wanted to get some hand and foot prints made and we nodded yes, so she busied herself getting that ready and left us in peace. We said our goodbyes and stood up and laid her on the bed; we just wanted to go back to Sarah’s room and have some privacy. We said our final goodbyes and left. That was the last time I saw my baby girl.
