Saying goodbye to our son Tate Michael Bishop

Cody Bishop is organizing this fundraiser.

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Our son Tate Michael Bishop was born at 23.5 weeks at the Penn State Hershey Children’s Hospital & spent his time in the NICU as he was only a Micro-Preemie. Our son fought from the very minute he was born. He was on multiple ventilators & overcame a lot of obstacles. His first victory was overcoming a pneumothorax, a popped lung letting air escape into his chest cavity. He had a chest tube put in to relieve the air and after 5 days the air dissipated and the tube came out. From then, he had numerous infections and endless rounds of antibiotics, but one amazing thing stayed true, our son beat whatever came his way. The biggest challenge Tate faced was being so premature that his lungs were not nearly developed enough, even so, he pushed on and on. His lung disease progressed but yet we pushed forward. The first time the hospital extubated Tate, it was the start of a treacherous journey. His lungs collapsed and from being bagged his lungs became over extended pushing pressure onto his other organs, but still, Tate continued to fight. The hardest part of all of this is what finally caught up to Tate which was one day unexpectedly his kidneys stopped working with no warning signs. He stopped peeing and the water he took in didn’t digest and went into his soft tissues. After a phone call to come in to the hospital was received we sat with his attending doctor and we were told the extreme nature of what was happening. She explained that from being so young he only had a couple days for his kidneys to jump start or he wouldn’t make it. Then… the following early morning we received a phone call to hurry in. Meeting again with his attending she told my wife Angie and I that they have done everything they can. His electrolytes began to rise to a place that was injuring his heart. His body became so swollen his eyes couldn’t open, his skin was drawn tight and his ears puffed out. Even through all this, our little boy still pushed forward, tired and hurting but he never gave up. Then the moment came a parent never wants to face, the reality of what was happening. He only had a day or two max and those days would be agony and sedation to the point he wasn’t awake and couldn’t feel and knowing our son, that’s not him that’s not what he wanted. He couldn’t open his big eyes and stare at his mother and father, he couldn’t feel the calm rush over him when we placed our hands over him. It wasn’t fair and would be wrong to make him endure more just for us to have more time. We came to the decision that was the hardest decision one could make and that was to let him feel himself wrapped in his parents arms tight, with soft spoken loving words reminding him how incredibly much he was loved and cherished, how proud we were of him and how sincerely sorry we were that he had to face so so so much. As he was wrapped in his warm, fuzzy tractor blanket, we pressed our lips to his head and cheeks and removed his breathing tube so he could drift peacefully into rest while wrapped in our arms. We like to believe he knew to the last moment we were with him, that we were doing what we were out of pure love and selflessness. We had the opportunity to let him go peacefully with no pain, while grasped with overwhelming love. Our boy fought til the end, made his parents proud in every moment he faced, he was our fighter. This isn’t goodbye Tate, this is til I see you again my boy. Your parents love you!

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