Over the past few months, Marc and I have been flooded with love and support from so many people. It has been overwhelming, humbling, and we are so incredibly grateful to be surrounded by such a strong, loving community. Many of you have followed our story over the past years and cried and celebrated with us along the way. For that reason, we wanted to share with everyone the events of the last week, and to thank you all for caring so deeply about our family.
On December 10, I was admitted to the hospital and quickly diagnosed with pre-eclampsia. Within minutes, I was prepped for an emergency C-section. I was terrified, and Marc held my hand the whole time. Reed Elliott Gorenstein was born at 6:52 pm, weighing 5 lbs 1 oz and 20.08 inches long. He was immediately cleaned off and was swarmed by many nurses and doctors. Reed was breathing well but was not showing any reflexes to multiple stimuli; i.e. crying, touch, or gag reflexes. Due to these indicators, the doctors gave us a quick glimpse of our beautiful son before taking him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit to determine the best course of treatment for him.
Over the next few days, we spent a lot of time in the NICU. We learned that Reed had a severe neurological injury. He was not conscious and needed a number of supports in order to stay alive. We gradually learned alongside doctors that Reed’s injury was the result of placental accreta, meaning he did not get regular oxygen while in utero due to the way the placenta formed. There was no way to detect this during the pregnancy, and nothing we could have done to prevent it. There was also no way to treat his injury. We had many difficult conversations with extremely compassionate doctors, and realized we would not be bringing our baby boy home. We decided to enjoy and cherish the time we had while we had him.
We spent several days with Reed in the NICU. Please know that, while we were heartbroken, this time was joyous and beautiful. We held him. We listened to him breathe and hiccup and whimper in his sleep, which will forever be the most precious sounds I’ve ever heard. The incredible NICU nurses showed us how to take care of him without discomfort, how to bathe him and soothe him and swaddle him. We told him all about his family, sang to him, read to him, and loved him deeply. We are so grateful for the time we got to spend with him, and will remember that time as being filled with love and joy and happiness. He got us through those first confusing days, and memories of him have provided us comfort and smiles in the days since, as well.
On our last morning with Reed, while his daddy held him, we read him a book we had chosen especially for him, called Wish. As we read it, we told him the story of how our family of three came to be. We told him how desperately we had ached for him, how long we had waited and how hard it had been to wait so long. We told him about a black sand beach in Piha, New Zealand, where we decided to keep trying instead of giving up, and how that decision had eventually led us to him. We told him about the countless people out there who loved him so much, even before he was born, who had celebrated with us and were so excited to meet him. Mostly, we told him how very much we loved him. How our lives had changed when he was born, and how he was worth every single second we had to wait. We told him how brave he was, and how much we cherished every moment we got to spend with him. We told him we didn’t want him to have to wait for us, because waiting is so hard, and because he had already fought so long to even make it to us to begin with. We told him we needed him to let us know when he was ready to go, because we never would be.
Less than two hours later, on December 14, he was gone. I will always believe he heard us. He didn’t want us to wait any longer for him, and he felt safe and loved. Saying goodbye to him is the hardest thing either of us has ever had to do, but we are comforted in knowing a few things - That it was on his terms, not ours. That we had the time we had with him. That he was and continues to be so loved by so many.
In the time we spent with Reed, we told him often how loved he was by people he didn’t even know, and how many people out in the world had been so excited to meet him. In the days since we’ve been home, we continue to be overwhelmed by your love and support. Thank you. Thank you for caring about our family, for loving our beautiful son, and for grieving along with us. People keep asking what they can do to help, and we are sorry that we don’t quite know the answer yet. A few things we do need….patience. We don’t know what we need yet, and will communicate when we do. We need time. If you reach out to us and we don’t respond, it is not because we don’t appreciate your thoughtfulness, but because we just aren’t ready. Mostly, we need to be able to share our son with the world. We want to say his name and show you his picture and tell you all about the wonderful days we had with him. He still makes us smile and brings us a lot of joy, and we want people to know that our time with him was not filled with sorrow, but with love.
