Inconceivable (30 page)

“They’re bringing the baby down the hall,” she said.

Kate looked horrified, and I held up my hand.

“Hold on. Kate would like to leave before you bring the baby in. Just one minute,” I said.

As they pushed Logan’s isolette in, Kate slid out the second door, timing her movements carefully to avoid seeing him in the hallway.

Sue rolled the isolette to me, and the six of us crowded around to marvel at Logan.

“Everyone, I want you to meet Logan Savage Morell,” Sue said as she lifted him up and placed him in my arms. I caught the faces of the boys and my mom. I would have never known, in that moment, that they weren’t looking at their new baby brother and grandson.

“Hrmph.”

“What, Mary Kate?”

She had clearly said something, but I had no idea what. When I twisted around to look at her, I noticed that her sweet little face was all pinched up as if she had tasted something sour.

“Do you see the baby? Isn’t he cute, Mary Kate?”

She looked away.

“I don’t think she likes him, Mom,” Ryan said.

My baby girl was horrified that her mommy had another baby in her arms. She wanted nothing to do with a new infant. I handed Logan to Ryan, who is a natural with babies. He peered at Logan and ever so gently rocked him. By this time, Mary Kate had thrown herself on the ground in a tantrum. Ryan handed Logan to Drew, who was less comfortable holding babies. When Ryan placed Logan in Drew’s arms, Drew’s whole body tightened, but he smiled. My mom held him next. Sean was snapping pictures fast, trying to get every angle.

The whole visit was only thirty minutes so that Sean and I could have some time alone with Logan before we returned him to the Morells. But first, we wanted a family picture with Logan. Sean stood next to me holding Mary Kate. Drew and Ryan stood behind us on either side. My mom snapped a few quick photos in the moments when Mary Kate wasn’t squirming and complaining. By the end of the session, she’d calmed down and could even muster a wisp of a smile. Then it was time for the boys and Mary Kate to say good-bye to Logan. Drew and Ryan took one last look and walked out of the room with Grandma Linda and Mary Kate.

“I am so glad we had them come,” Sean said.

“I loved seeing the boys hold Logan,” I said.

I laid Logan on my lap and carefully unwrapped his blanket so that I could slide him out of his T-shirt to look at his little body.

“We did that! He is perfect,” I said, joyfully.

“No, Carolyn. You did that. And he is perfect,” Sean said.

I held him up and turned him around, inspecting his little arms, fingers, chest, and toes. We had seen his tiny body so many times in the black-and-white images of the ultrasounds, but it was nice to get a good look at him.

He was getting a bit upset at being exposed, so I quickly laid him on his belly on top of my chest. Instinctively, he snuggled his head under my chin and immediately quieted himself. Within a few seconds, he closed his eyes and slept in the crook of my neck.

“He can probably hear your heartbeat,” Sean said. “He’s listened to it all these months. It stopped him from crying, you know?”

The second I laid him down and his face rested against my skin, I knew. He knew. I had felt this feeling before, with my other three, but this time…. How could that feeling be there? How could this feel so right? How could he be theirs? He felt like mine.

He is yours. He is theirs. He is God’s gift to all of us.

As I held Logan on my chest, I heard the familiar ping of a text message arriving on my BlackBerry. I picked it up, flung it open, and stared at its contents. Jennifer had been to an appointment and sent me an ultrasound picture. I stared at my baby and rubbed the back of Logan. Two precious lives that I loved more than I could express. I felt lucky in that moment.

After a few minutes of cuddling, I turned him on his back and swaddled him tightly. I stared at his tiny face as he slept peacefully in my arms.

“Look here, Little Man. You can’t just leave us. You have to pull some strings for us with your mommy and daddy. We want to see you. We want to watch you grow. So, if you use your pull right, we’ll see you so often you’ll think we are related.”

Logan opened his eyes and looked right at me. I couldn’t believe
what I was seeing. I think he understood, and as our eyes locked I could feel his soul. I knew then that we’d always be connected.

SEAN

As Carolyn held Logan to her chest, I could barely contain my emotion. Fifteen hours before, she had held him inside her, now she was holding him on her chest, and a few hours from now he would be gone with the Morells in Michigan. How could we pack a lifetime of love for this child into a few minutes?

Carolyn handed Logan to me. I cuddled him in my arms and sat in the rocking chair. I had a bottle for him, and I gently rocked him while he ate. As I was holding Logan, he was in and out of sleep. I was so relaxed and one with him, just as I had been with Drew, Ryan, and Mary Kate. Carolyn could barely move, because of the pain, but she pulled herself out of bed, and the nurse took dozens of pictures of Carolyn, Logan, and me. As I held him I watched the clock, knowing that our time with him was quickly coming to an end.

Just then, Sue came in to ask us something she and the other nurses wanted to know.

“Would you want me to do a bereavement box?” she said. “We do these for families who lose a child at or after birth.”

Carolyn and I looked at each other, pained that this was the appropriate gesture to make for a baby who at that moment was resting so sweetly in my arms.

“Yes,” I said softly.

Moments later she came in with the box. She held one of Logan’s feet to make an imprint of it in clay. Next, she took our picture, hustled down the hall to get it printed, and then placed it in the box along with other personal items. When she brought the box back, she placed it on a shelf. As she shut the door she said, “I will leave you two alone with the baby for your remaining time.”

I stared at the box, and then back at Logan, and then again at the
box. I didn’t know what we would do with it, but I was thankful to Sue and her team for recognizing our loss.

I wanted Carolyn to be the last to hold him. I helped her move the four feet from her bed to the rocker. She grimaced as she sat in the chair, but she wanted to rock Logan so badly. I handed Logan to her.

“He is so beautiful and so alert,” I said.

“It feels so good to have some time to simply focus on him and put everything else aside.”

I took pictures from every angle. Next, I grabbed the video camera and recorded a brief moment. Carolyn smiled in a way that I had not seen her smile this year. She was captured by Logan.

Sue rolled the isolette back in, and we knew what that meant: Paul and Shannon were coming to get Logan. It was time to say good-bye. We had done everything we could in forty-five minutes. As Carolyn placed him in the isolette, we held his hand and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, saying, “I love you.”

After Logan had left, I helped Carolyn back into bed, and Mary Smith arrived. She carried with her a thick stack of documents and her notary seal, the paperwork to officially turn custody of Logan over to the Morells.

Mary had a pen for each of us. One by one, she handed us the documents, explaining the reason for each one. I heard her, but I did not listen. For the only time in my life, I signed legal documents that I didn’t read. I knew that the cold, dry wording on these papers could not reflect the love we were feeling for Logan. The papers had to say that we didn’t want to be his parents, and I just could not read such wording. Carolyn and I signed our names again and again and again. The few pictures we took of that moment when we signed away our formal connection to Logan reflect our reluctant surrender. We were fulfilling our commitment, and it felt like hell.

Mary brought all of the signed documents to Shannon and Paul. After they signed off, she drove to the Lucas County courthouse,
where a judge made the change of custody final. We officially lost Logan with the drop of a gavel at a courthouse just one mile from the hospital at 4:00
P.M
. on September 25, 2009. From that moment, we knew we could never go back.

The New York public relations person proved to be untrust-worthy. I had been clear in my messages to him that we did not want news of the birth to be released. He released the news anyway, and word spread quickly. Calls were coming in nonstop to me and family members as well as to our attorneys and the local PR firm. Carolyn and I terminated our relationship with the New York PR firm that day, deciding that we could get all the expertise we needed from our local firm. The media pressure grew to a frenzy as the day went on. We decided to put together a joint statement with the Morells, hoping that that would satisfy the media.

As the day progressed I jotted down some thoughts, and the Morells had ideas about their statement. In the afternoon, we realized that it would be difficult for the two families to speak as one. Their experience was vastly different from ours. It was impossible to issue a joint statement that captured their celebration and our loss. We agreed to release separate statements once the Morells had left the hospital with Logan.

The last step we would take before saying a final good-bye was to write notes for Logan. As I put pen to paper I chose my words carefully, knowing that Logan might not read this letter for many years.

Carolyn and I wanted Logan to know that our choice to let him go was the highest form of love we could give. As a caterpillar comes out of his cocoon and becomes the butterfly, Logan was flying away from us, but our love, hopes, and dreams for him would remain within us forever. I prayed that someday he would read these letters that said, even though we were far away, we would always think of him and always love him.

The nurse opened our door to say, “I understand the Morells are getting ready to leave. If you want to see them, I suggest that you head down to their room.”

She must have received a call from a nurse in the NICU. It was about 6:45, just twenty-seven hours after delivery.

“Sean, we need to say good-bye and give him the chest of gifts we bought,” Carolyn said.

“Okay, let’s go!”

I pushed Carolyn to the elevator in a wheelchair and then down the hall to the NICU into Paul and Shannon’s room. Paul held Logan as Shannon gathered up their things. They knew we were coming, but were understandably eager to leave.

“Please sit down,” Shannon said.

“We have some gifts for Logan and for you,” Carolyn said.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have. You don’t need to give us anything,” Shannon said.

“We wanted him to have certain things,” I commented.

Carolyn handed Shannon the treasure chest that we had filled with some gifts. We hoped Logan would someday cherish and understand the meaning behind each item we chose.

Shannon sat in a chair across from Carolyn talking about the media inquiries that were pouring into her cell phone. Carolyn nodded as if she was listening, but I don’t think either of us was paying any attention. I could see Carolyn’s eyes drifting over to the corner of the room, where Paul stood with his back to us, holding Logan. We were both trying to steal our last glimpses of the baby.

As the moments passed, things became awkward. Our presence in the room started to feel like an intrusion. Carolyn and I wished them well. I patted Logan on his head as we turned to exit. They would be on the road within minutes.

We stepped out into the hallway. As the door to their room slammed behind us, we froze for a few seconds in silence. I pushed the wheelchair closer to Carolyn, and she sat. We made our way into our room at about 7:15. I had a cold feeling. What should we do now? Carolyn sat in her bed, and I sat next to her and put my arm around her, and we wept. As Paul and Shannon drove away with Logan in a car seat, we wept. As the world moved on, we wept.

C
HAPTER
21

Good-byes and Grief

CAROLYN

T
HREE DAYS POSTDELIVERY
, I was thrilled to be going home, but dreading how I would feel leaving the hospital with empty arms. During the pregnancy, our days had been so full. I had included the baby growing inside me in every thought. He helped me decide if I should lift something and when I needed to let the housework go. I’d always decided my social calendar with him in mind. He even showed me what to eat. Besides the ache in my heart and the scar across my belly, would his departure leave a lot of free space in my mind? I wouldn’t be dreaming about or fearing what it would be like at the birth or when we left him with his parents. That was all done now, and my images of it were strong. Only time would show me what those memories meant to me. Would they be good ones of a time when Sean and I rose to do the right thing on a unique occasion? Or would I always think of this experience only as a loss?

I knew that the gap would have more dimensions than just the absence of Logan. Sean and I had become so close in this crisis. I would always be grateful to him for the way he sheltered me and left nothing to chance. He’s not a man who is comfortable with emo
tion, but he walked right into the fire holding my hand. Yes, we fought, but it was always as two people who were completely committed, both to each other and to making the best of whatever life brought our way. During this crisis, we were on the phone to each other multiple times a day. As things settled, would I miss Sean too? There was no way of knowing what faced me at my house, which now somehow seemed filled with empty rooms.

Dr. Read came to see me shortly before I left. She sat on my bed. I’d never seen that look on her face before. She had been my savior throughout this pregnancy, and she never lost her professional demeanor. As she looked into my eyes, her expression was gentle. I felt the compassion that came from her very core, the kindness in her heart that made her a healer.

“I’m worried, Carolyn,” she said. “I’ve sent patients home from the hospital after tragedies before. But this is different. What can I do to help you?”