Eli
Donation protected
Hello,
If you are reading this then you may already be familiar with my story. If you do not know me, thank you for taking the time to look and read what I have to say.
I’m going to be brief, but I’m going to tell you the story of my beautiful son, Elijah. From day one, to the very last.
The day we learned we were expecting we were over the moon. The moment I saw that pink line, I did not have a scared bone in my body. I remember like it was yesterday. It's a bittersweet memory. It hurts to remember but it's what makes me smile at the same time.
I did everything right. I took my vitamins, I ate healthy, I avoided the foods I was supposed to. I went above and beyond for our little one. But fate cannot be changed, no matter how much good you do.
The day we found out what we were having, we also found out that our lives were changed forever. The moment the ultrasound tech saw the screen, she nervously assured me that she was highly qualified for the job. When she said those words, those terrifying words that no expectant mother should hear, "there's something very wrong." The moment I heard those words, time stopped. Before I knew it we were in the car on our way to the hospital. "Where am I? Why am I crying? What's happening to my baby?" All that and so much more raced through my head.
Matt tried his best to keep a stiff upper lip for me, and our baby. The whole day I was quiet, not sure how to process what I was told.
When we arrived at the hospital, I sat there waiting in the wheelchair for someone from the maturity ward to come get me. Matt and I decided right then and there to see what we were having. "It's a Boy!" I read, and instantly began crying alongside Matt. Our little boy... our dear sweet little one... what is happening to you?
Being in the Maternity ward, having 5+ doctors look at us and not say one word was heart wrenching. I anxiously awaited the diagnosis. But it was still unclear to them. We didn't get a straight answer until we saw the specialist the following week.
If I never went to see what was wrong, my body would have told me. I couldn't move or stand, let alone breathe. I knew something wasn't right. So, they got me in earlier than expected.
Things were not O.K., but it got "better" as the month went on. He was still here. He was still with us.
I had to have a procedure done to try and help him. We were trying to give him more of a fighting chance.
After the procedure, the scariest part was not over. Constantly thinking about what we won't have, what Eli will never be. I cried all the time, every minute of every day. Especially when someone would talk about when he would be born. I knew deep down inside, we wouldn't make it that far.
I hid the truth, I hid the pain. No one knows I carried this with me the entire time.
They warned me that his heart can stop at any given moment. Imagine the moment you can't feel your baby move, you instantly think "is this it?! Is this really the end?!" I would try everything to get him going. Eating his favorite foods, listening to the music he liked, anything to get him to nudge. When I would hold my belly, or when Matt would talk to him, that's when I would feel him.
At 11:38 a.m. on August 25, 2017, Elijah Christopher-David Turek was born. His cry was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in my entire life. I started to cry instantly. "My baby is crying. He's O.K.!" I thought to myself as the tears ran down my face. The moment I heard him, I forgot about everything... all th appointments, all the worries, all the terrible news, I forgot about it all. Then, I heard the doctors and nurses say, "things aren't looking so good" and then I remembered. I remembered everything we had been through the past four months, and the small chance that he will make it.
Before I knew it, I was in the NICU holding my son, crying so much that tears blurred my vision and I couldn't see him. I needed to see him. These were the final moments with Eli. I needed to see. I tried to stop the tears, but it's impossible when you feel like your world is coming to an end. Eli made it as far as he could. Our little boy fought long and hard. We're so very, very proud of him.
My world did come to an end. My world was no longer with me. Everything happened too fast. I did everything possible for my son.
At 14:12 p.m. his soul was left to rest.
"This couldn't be it... This can't be our final goodbye." I thought to myself as I looked down at my son, who had now become an angel.
I cried every night in the hospital. I tried to stay strong when my family was around and for Matt. But came the night when I was alone, I would cry. Matt would catch me and tell me not to hide. Even to this day, I try and stay strong... but the pain is so over bearing I can't tolerate it.
I can't say that I don't cry as much as I did that day, because I do. I still cry just as much. Maybe even more. I realize more everyday that he is not here. I don't have what others do, and it kills me. I do not expect for people to understand, but it seems like they do. They sympathize with me and it fills my heart. For those of you who have respected my space, or have acknowledged my son, or have been by my side ever since, no words can express my gratitude.
We did everything we could to save our baby boy. Unfortunately, nothing helped, and everything came with a price. The expenses that come with having a baby who is ill and then planning his farewell.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. We appreciate it so much.
Rest in Peace our Baby Eli
We miss you
We love you
If you are reading this then you may already be familiar with my story. If you do not know me, thank you for taking the time to look and read what I have to say.
I’m going to be brief, but I’m going to tell you the story of my beautiful son, Elijah. From day one, to the very last.
The day we learned we were expecting we were over the moon. The moment I saw that pink line, I did not have a scared bone in my body. I remember like it was yesterday. It's a bittersweet memory. It hurts to remember but it's what makes me smile at the same time.
I did everything right. I took my vitamins, I ate healthy, I avoided the foods I was supposed to. I went above and beyond for our little one. But fate cannot be changed, no matter how much good you do.
The day we found out what we were having, we also found out that our lives were changed forever. The moment the ultrasound tech saw the screen, she nervously assured me that she was highly qualified for the job. When she said those words, those terrifying words that no expectant mother should hear, "there's something very wrong." The moment I heard those words, time stopped. Before I knew it we were in the car on our way to the hospital. "Where am I? Why am I crying? What's happening to my baby?" All that and so much more raced through my head.
Matt tried his best to keep a stiff upper lip for me, and our baby. The whole day I was quiet, not sure how to process what I was told.
When we arrived at the hospital, I sat there waiting in the wheelchair for someone from the maturity ward to come get me. Matt and I decided right then and there to see what we were having. "It's a Boy!" I read, and instantly began crying alongside Matt. Our little boy... our dear sweet little one... what is happening to you?
Being in the Maternity ward, having 5+ doctors look at us and not say one word was heart wrenching. I anxiously awaited the diagnosis. But it was still unclear to them. We didn't get a straight answer until we saw the specialist the following week.
If I never went to see what was wrong, my body would have told me. I couldn't move or stand, let alone breathe. I knew something wasn't right. So, they got me in earlier than expected.
Things were not O.K., but it got "better" as the month went on. He was still here. He was still with us.
I had to have a procedure done to try and help him. We were trying to give him more of a fighting chance.
After the procedure, the scariest part was not over. Constantly thinking about what we won't have, what Eli will never be. I cried all the time, every minute of every day. Especially when someone would talk about when he would be born. I knew deep down inside, we wouldn't make it that far.
I hid the truth, I hid the pain. No one knows I carried this with me the entire time.
They warned me that his heart can stop at any given moment. Imagine the moment you can't feel your baby move, you instantly think "is this it?! Is this really the end?!" I would try everything to get him going. Eating his favorite foods, listening to the music he liked, anything to get him to nudge. When I would hold my belly, or when Matt would talk to him, that's when I would feel him.
At 11:38 a.m. on August 25, 2017, Elijah Christopher-David Turek was born. His cry was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in my entire life. I started to cry instantly. "My baby is crying. He's O.K.!" I thought to myself as the tears ran down my face. The moment I heard him, I forgot about everything... all th appointments, all the worries, all the terrible news, I forgot about it all. Then, I heard the doctors and nurses say, "things aren't looking so good" and then I remembered. I remembered everything we had been through the past four months, and the small chance that he will make it.
Before I knew it, I was in the NICU holding my son, crying so much that tears blurred my vision and I couldn't see him. I needed to see him. These were the final moments with Eli. I needed to see. I tried to stop the tears, but it's impossible when you feel like your world is coming to an end. Eli made it as far as he could. Our little boy fought long and hard. We're so very, very proud of him.
My world did come to an end. My world was no longer with me. Everything happened too fast. I did everything possible for my son.
At 14:12 p.m. his soul was left to rest.
"This couldn't be it... This can't be our final goodbye." I thought to myself as I looked down at my son, who had now become an angel.
I cried every night in the hospital. I tried to stay strong when my family was around and for Matt. But came the night when I was alone, I would cry. Matt would catch me and tell me not to hide. Even to this day, I try and stay strong... but the pain is so over bearing I can't tolerate it.
I can't say that I don't cry as much as I did that day, because I do. I still cry just as much. Maybe even more. I realize more everyday that he is not here. I don't have what others do, and it kills me. I do not expect for people to understand, but it seems like they do. They sympathize with me and it fills my heart. For those of you who have respected my space, or have acknowledged my son, or have been by my side ever since, no words can express my gratitude.
We did everything we could to save our baby boy. Unfortunately, nothing helped, and everything came with a price. The expenses that come with having a baby who is ill and then planning his farewell.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. We appreciate it so much.
Rest in Peace our Baby Eli
We miss you
We love you
Organizer
Lynn Marie Turek
Organizer
Oak Forest, IL
