My son was born Friday June 18, 2004 at 5:45pm. He was 7 pounds 4 ounces and 21 inches long. He had just a little bit of brown fuzz (hair) and piercing blue eyes. He was perfect. We came home on Sunday and by the next Monday I was ready to go back to work. My boss agreed to let me bring Dylan with me to work (I worked in the office for a family owned business in Charleston, SC) so for 4 weeks Dylan helped me do payroll, answer phones, accounts payable and receiveable. Jim (my now ex-husband) took our oldest son, Cameron who was 19 months old at the time,  to a lady who lived down the street from where he was working. Amy also kept a few other children in her home and is the sweetest person you could ever meet. Cameron absolutely loved her! By the time Dylan was 6 weeks old it was time for him to start going to Amy's too.

September 29, 2004 started like any other day. By this time Dylan was 3 months old and a chunk!! I got up that morning got both boys and myself dressed and fed and ready to walk out the door. As Jim was getting Cameron in the car, I was inside with Dylan putting him in his carseat. He looked at me with a look I'll never be able to describe and I kept thinking to myself "I need to take him with me today. I don't know why, but he needs to come with me". But instead I let him go. That afternoon Amy layed Dylan down for a nap. She said about 30 minutes later he started fussing so she went in there to settle him back down. She then went back in there about an hour later to wake him so she could feed him and his lips were purple and already cold. Her 16 year old niece that was there with her called 911 and the dispatcher walked her through the steps of CPR. about 12:45 is when I got a call from Amy. She was hysterical. All she could say was "Dylan won't breathe!! He won't breathe!!" She said that they called an ambulance and I told her that I'd be right there. Truth is, I had no idea where "right there" was. Should I go to her house, should I go to the hospital? All I knew was I had to get to my baby. A guy I worked with ended up driving me to the hospital. We beat the ambulance there so I had to wait. That was the longest wait of my life. The hospital chaplain finally came in and brought me to a room where I could wait for Jim. Then a nurse came in and told me she talked to the ambulance driver and things weren't looking good but not to get discouraged yet. The only thing I could think was "God, please don't take my baby". But he wasn't my baby, he was God's baby. He brought him in this world, he could do what he wanted. Finally a docotor came in. He gave me the weirdest look. He stared at me a minute and said "I'm sorry there is nothing else we can do". I hit my knees and screamed at him. I told him to f**king get back in there and fix my baby. He just said I'm sorry and walked out. Not 5 minutes later Jim and his mother walked in the room and all we could do was hug and cry. A nurse later came in and said we could go in and see him. We walked in the room and there he was laying there on a hospital bed made for old people who die of old age, not babies who die for no reason. I picked him up, a nurse brought me a warm blanket and I wrapped him all up and just rocked him. I held him and rocked him and cried for two hours. Then I had to leave. That was the first time I ever came home without my baby. Dylan was pronounced at 1:46 PM. Once I got home, reporters started calling. I never once blamed Amy. She had 3 kids of her own and she was a very loving and a good Christian woman. She loved Dylan and even when he was alive, she called him her angel. We had Dylan taken to a funeral home in Aiken, SC, which is where I'm originally from. The last time I held him was about 5 minutes before the viewing. He didn't feel at all like my warm little pudgy baby. He was cold and immobile. I had him buried in a blue long sleeve/pants outfit that had blue bears on it that also had a matching hat and socks. He had to wear a hat cause they also did an autopsy on his brain. He was also buried with a pacifier in his mouth cause he LOVED his paci! I cant remember all the details of the funeral and half the people that were there. From what I can understand though it was a packed house! We had him buried next to two other small children that are also distant relatives of mine. I may never fully know why God decided to take my baby but I know he has a plan for everything, so I try not to ask too many questions and just trust HIM. I do know one thing though. I've made sure I know where I'm going so I can see him again. The SIDS motto is Forever Young, Forever Innocent, Forever Loved. We had that motto put on his headstone. And I've learned that instead of saying "It's been 2 years 11 months and 23 days since he left" it's easier to say "Its 2 years, 11 months and 23 days closer to the day I get to see him again." Some people don't want to say anything about him or bring up the subject but you know what, I'm ok with it. I'm proud to say I'm his mommy and I love talking about him. He looked just like me and was a momma's boy and I have my very own personal guardian angel. What mother wouldn't want to brag about that? God never gives us more than we can take. Sometimes I think He gets tired of calling Home the older people, roses that have already bloomed and are losing their petals, so He calls Home a baby, a rosebud that had barely began to open, just so He too can watch a rose bloom up close and get to experience all it's beauty... after all He created the rose bush.

Tags: sids, baby, angel

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