We had several events over the weekend from Hannah’s ice skating
to hosting people at our home. It was nice for Hannah to be with family and
friends and get to enjoy some fun things. Jeff and I had a nice time too, but
after it was all over I felt sad that even though we mentioned Audrey a few
times, her absence from the festivities was palpable. I kept wanting to take
our guests to her room to show them who she is and to have the chance to talk
about her more, just to include her in the gathering and continue to let
everyone know that she’s so much a part of our family, even if she’s not
physically here.
It’s strange how different memories or parts of memories
come up so strongly at certain times. The other morning I went into Audrey’s
room to turn off her nightlight and tell her good morning, which I still do
every day. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that she wanted or needed
to be held, and the memory of the last time we held her came back so clearly
and strongly. After Audrey had died in the hospital, the medical team left us
alone with her in her room. We picked Audrey’s body up out of the hospital bed
as she was now disconnected from all the tubes and devices. Jeff and I carried
her over to a couch in her hospital room and sat in the dark and held her for a
while. We were talking together and talking to her and kind of crying but also
in so much shock. The moments of her actual dying were terrible, and this was
much more peaceful, although we knew that it was also ultimately the end.
Eventually, we asked Hannah if she wanted to come into the room and explained
that her sister’s body was there and what that might look like or feel like.
Hannah wanted to come and see Audrey. Those moments, which I won’t say more
about here, were absolutely heartbreaking and still Hannah’s pain is the most
acute that I feel in the loss. In the way that a child can’t grasp what’s going
on and just doesn’t want to lose her sister, Hannah begged us not to leave the
hospital and begged us not to leave Audrey. After several hours, however, we
did have to leave Audrey’s body in the hands of the nurses and medical staff
who had taken such good care of her while she was in ICU.
The drive home from there is also always acute in my mind,
as well as the steps to bring Audrey’s body home. It’s the strangest thing- a
parent of a living child would never think about what actually logistically
happens when your child dies, but lots of things immediately change. You
entered the hospital as a parent of 2 children, you leave as a parent of 1. Audrey
died at Children’s Hospital Wisconsin in Milwaukee, and we needed to bring her
body home to Rockford. But the hospital has to process a death notification
with the medical examiner and there are legal steps that happen. We had called
the funeral home who would be taking care of Audrey during the coming weeks. To
this day I am so grateful to Tim at Honquest for his act of kindness. When we
left the hospital, it was around 4pm. I didn’t want Audrey to stay in a cold
hospital morgue overnight without us. I asked the funeral home to please pick
her up. At first, they said that it takes 24-48 hours to retrieve a body. I
lost it on the phone and said something about her being a 5 year old little girl
and please don’t leave her up there alone. Tim told me he would get her for me.
And he did. Their driver went to Milwaukee at 6pm and picked up Audrey; they
called me when they had her and called me again when she was safely rested at
the funeral home a couple miles from our house. I was comforted knowing that
she was near and knowing who was taking care of her. Tim gave me his personal cell
phone to call to check on her, and I called daily over the next several days until
she was buried. In our shock, it was almost like checking in with a babysitter-
we had to make sure that she was okay and taken care of and in good hands, and
we knew where she was and what was happening. We dropped off clothes for her
and her favorite blanket and things to do her hair. We picked up the blanket,
toys, and clothes that were with her from the hospital. When Audrey was finally
laid to rest at the cemetery I remember feeling a sense of letting go of that
part- having to monitor her physical care- she was and would forever be at Scottish
Argyle Cemetery. Later, the Milwaukee County medical examiner called us and Tim
at Honquest and gave us a piece of their mind. Apparently they were none too
happy that Audrey’s body was taken across state lines without their permission
as they wanted several more days to process an examination and paperwork. We gave
them access to all the medical records, but they explained that once a child
dies, the parents immediately lose legal rights to make determinations about
their care. They could retrieve Audrey from Rockford and conduct an autopsy
without our consent and without us present, if they wanted to. Luckily, it didn’t
come to that. I remember thinking at the time that someone should tell parents about
these things that happen when or if your child dies- that there are some things
you may wish to consider about how your child’s body is cared for after their
death, and no one is going to explain to you ahead of time that there’s a whole
process that you won’t have much input into.
It's a constant up and down lately with grief. There are
times of respite from it, when we’re thinking about other things and the
sadness isn’t as prominent, but then it’s also always there in the background,
limiting our overall functioning and the capacity that we have for joy. We
continue to need and appreciate the grace given to us- we’re not ourselves and
haven’t yet adapted to any sort of new normal.
March 10, 2025- 19 months since we last held her.
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