The Next Day
I slept for an hour and a half that first night. By now, the news has started to spread—Samson's classmates, his Youth Group, friends, and what felt like the entire state of Minnesota had heard about my son being in the hospital. People began sharing social media posts; "Sticks out for Samson" was circulating. Even the Minnesota Wild, Samson's favorite hockey team, had left their sticks out in tribute. To witness countless strangers rallying around my child, expressing support in a way that will forever bring tears to my eyes. The kindness of the hockey community made it feel as though we were all one extended family. Strangers from different states reached out, sharing pictures of their sticks out in solidarity. In that moment, the sense of closeness within the community was unparalleled, forming a bond that transcended the boundaries of familiarity. The realization hit me like a wave—people care this deeply about us? About my boy? Words can never fully express the overwhelming emotions that surged within me. To know that I had countless mothers standing behind me, fervently praying for my child's well-being, was a profound and humbling experience. The collective strength of hundreds of thousands, all hoping for a miracle for Samson, formed a tapestry of support that surpassed the limits of unfamiliar faces, becoming a lifeline of hope in our darkest hours.
We were at Gillette Children's Hospital, where the Ronald McDonald House provided our family with a room. The hospital staff had been truly amazing. During a brief moment, I stepped into the room they had given us to quickly brush my teeth. However, upon entering the Ronald McDonald House, I was taken aback. There, I witnessed a heartwarming scene—hundreds of students, Samson's classmates, gathered in support. They were creating posters, grieving together, and earnestly praying for their lively, bubbly, bright-eyed classmate to pull through. The sight of so many familiar faces, the boys who had shared moments on the ice or the lacrosse field with Samson, his friends, his classmates... it was an overwhelming sight of love to me. It was truly astonishing, creating a profound sense of unity that made me feel like we were all in this together. I embraced each of the kids, expressing my gratitude for their presence and unwavering support. With the girls, tears flowed freely, shared moments of grief bonding us together. The boys attempted to wear brave faces, but their eyes betrayed the ache within their hearts. How could they grapple with the impending loss of one of their best friends? The unspoken pain resonated in the silent exchanges, a heavy realization that echoed through the shared sorrow in those moments.
The doctors wanted to discuss the CAT scan results with us. Emotionally fragile, I let Tom take the lead—a gesture for which I'll be forever grateful. In those critical moments, Tom shielded me from the harsh news. Unable to bear anything negative, I entrusted him to meet with the doctors and convey their findings. Regrettably, the news was devastating. The swelling hadn't ceased, impacting the right side of Samson's brain as severely as the left. Those words felt like knives piercing my heart. Amidst the pain, I clung to my faith, telling myself that they don't know the God I serve; everything can change. I refused to accept this, standing firm in faith, and praying for my child. In such situations, your mind grapples with the incomprehensible. Faced with an unexpected, unanticipated accident, you struggle to comprehend the reality unfolding before you. Desperate for your child to fight and survive, you find yourself inundated with negativity from all directions.
On that day, we opened the room to many of Samson's friends, allowing them to come in, see him, and hold his hand. It was my belief that Samson could hear everything, and I wanted to provide his friends with the chance to spend time with him. I needed him to feel the love and care from each one of them. Every person in that room was rallying for him, desperately hoping, and pulling for him to overcome this immense challenge. It was a collective effort to surround him with warmth and support, ensuring he knew that he was cherished by us all.
As I continue to share our journey in this blog, I find myself grappling with the pain it brings. It's a process of revisiting details I've tried to shut out, moments so painfully etched in my memory. Despite the difficulty, I believe in the power of sharing. It's a personal endeavor, laying bare my experiences, vulnerabilities, and the strength Tom, Gabriel and I have been forced to have. This journey, though challenging to articulate, holds the potential to resonate with others, offering support and understanding to those navigating similar paths.
My aspiration for this blog is to extend support to fellow parents who have faced the devastating loss of a child. I hope to offer strength to other mothers navigating the aftermath of an experience we should never have had to endure. Through sharing this journey, my aim is to convey the message that no one is alone in their grief, that someone out there comprehends the depth of their pain. May these words serve as a source of comfort and solidarity, forging connections among those who share the heart-wrenching journey of loss.
