Noah was a very special baby boy. He was always so happy, smart, and loving. At only 7 months old he was changing my life for the better, and as his mama, I owe it to him for who I am today. Our baby boy was a rainbow baby. For those who don’t know what that means, he was a baby who was born after a miscarriage or infant loss, which in our case, was a miscarriage. We were devastated, but Noah filled our hearts with so much joy and healed us from that tragedy. We were so in love from the day we met him, we still are to this day and on of course. He was born on Easter Sunday, April 17th of 2022. He was a smart little guy, his first word was Dada, which he learned at just before 7 months old, he would try to repeat words after you if you asked him to say something, studying your lips movement and the sound that comes from it. He started crawling at 5 months old, laughing at 2.5 months old. He was a bright bright boy.
On December 14th of 2022, was our last day with
Noah, and we would never know it. He was extra cuddly that day, extra sad to be put down. I almost think now maybe he knew, and just wanted to be held as long as he could. I feel so guilty now, because of that. It was another normal day for us, we played with him that night with all of his new toys from his early Christmas with his abuela, which I am so happy we did, because my baby got to experience the joy of Christmas. We were blowing bubbles to him, playing with his little trucks, he was giggling and smiling and trying to grab the little bubbles. Little did I know that was the last time I would ever see that sweet smile. That night, I nursed him to sleep, he had been struggling to sleep well, but this night he went to sleep without a fuss, so peacefully and calm. That was it. The next morning, December 15th, of 2022. I woke up to the worst sound. My husband, Noah’s daddy, woke up around 5:15am, to get ready for work, but instead was holding our sweet boy, and weeping for him. Our little Noah was not breathing. I went into survival mode, instantly starting performing CPR to the best of my knowledge, and called 911. I ran out of the room and woke up my in laws, who we stay with, and yelled to them to please help, Noah is not breathing. My father in law came into the room and took over with 911, instantly performing CPR and mouth to mouth. I just cried, and pleaded with God until the paramedics arrived. “This isn’t happening, I’m not losing another baby, I can’t be, not my Noah, just not my Noah”. They came, tried one go of CPR, and instantly they knew it wasn’t enough. They cut my baby’s tiny onesie off, and starting pressing little stickers onto his chest for a heart defibrillator. My baby just laid there, so still, so peaceful, just as he was when I put him to sleep. It was horrifying and confusing all at the same time. Part of me knew he was gone, but he looked how he always was when he slept. The only difference was the color of his soft skin.
They took my baby away, we weren’t even allowed inside the ambulance with him. We rushed to the hospital, went through security as fast as we could and we were finally going back to see him. We got to the hallway and heard a baby crying, and instantly felt such a huge relief. “THANK YOU, GOD” I thought. “I knew I couldn’t lose him, not today”. Then the woman walking us back looked at us, and walked right past that room. It was a little baby girl in there. Then we go into Noah’s room. He still has no pulse. Nothing. No color. Still laying perfectly still. I felt my heart sink, and I just thought, “wow. I am really losing my son.. aren’t I?” The doctors and nurses worked on him for what felt like hours and also only a few seconds at the same time. Until finally one doctor took a step back from my son, and whispered so quietly, yet still pierced my ears with his words. “Time of death, 5:50”. He let out a tear for my son, and told us he was so sorry for our loss. I felt numb, empty, weak in my knees. I didn’t know what to do. For the next few hours we sat in that room with him, going all over the place in our emotions. Our little baby was gone. Just like that. People kept coming into the room, friends of family, staff, etc. I just wanted to scream at everyone to stop looking at my baby and get out right now. Saying goodbye to him felt like an out of body experience. This all has felt that way honestly. I hardly remember, but at the same time I remember little details, like the smell of my baby that day, the way he felt and the temperature of his body. It’s a sight and a feeling I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Truthfully. Leaving the hospital without him, I screamed, I cried, it’s like it finally hit me for a moment what just happened. It was storming, thundering, and so gloomy and cold outside. It felt like the earth was grieving Noah with me.
When we returned home there were more people already waiting there for us. Family and friends, but also DCF, police, and medical examiners. The medical examiners were laughing about something when we walked up to the door, which filled me with rage. They were just with us watching us say goodbye to our perfect son, and they stood at our door laughing about who knows what. They took photos of everything in our room, they even made us lay in our bed with a baby doll and reenact the entire morning while photographing and videoing us. They took Noah’s crib sheet, our bed sheets, his baby monitor. Then we were drug tested, questioned, and they even made us give collateral from at least two people who could testify that we were good parents to Noah. Our entire family and friends, at least 20 people went out to defend us. Planning his funeral was awful, I hated everything, everyone asked me what I liked for this or that, but how could I like anything when my baby is gone? We did lots of white and blue for his service. He wore a blue vest and suit pants. He looked so handsome. He got to match his daddy’s outfit for the first and last time. A month after losing him, we found out I was pregnant again. We were shocked, feeling mixed emotions but trying to stay positive. I was very scared. Unfortunately though I ended up having a second miscarriage. We haven’t lost hope. Noah was living proof that we were meant to be, we could be, and that we ARE parents. And damn good ones at that.
Everyone says we are strong, and inspiring, but really, Noah is the one inspiring me. He showed me that life is what you make it, and you don’t know how much time you will get so you have to make the best of it. We of course don’t know what will come next for us in this life, but we are holding onto the hope that our tears will not be wasted, and that our joy will be restored one day. For now, I myself am sharing Noah’s story to spread awareness about infant loss. We don’t know Noah’s cause of death yet, but whatever it is, we have accepted that we did not know, and if there was anything we could have done we would have done it. I plan to keep his memory alive as long as I live. If you know this pain, I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for listening to Noah’s story. “‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”” Revelation 21:4 NIV