Support for Shiloh's Medical Bills

There are certain moments in your life that nothing and no one can prepare you for. Although terribly cliché, I know some of you reading this probably resonated with this statement instantly. You probably easily recalled the moment in time where you ceased to be the person you once were. As a parent, that moment for my husband and myself was when our infant son passed away.

On St. Patrick’s Day this year, my husband and I were heading to the hospital as my labor had begun earlier that morning. Like most women who have gone through what I experienced, I had an uneventful pregnancy and was therefore anticipating an uneventful labor. However, that changed rather suddenly for me. One moment everything seemed fine on the fetal monitor and the next, my son’s heart rate had dropped dramatically. Everyone began moving very urgently and my doctor helped to deliver my son within 5 minutes of his decreased heart rate. Our nightmare really began there - He came out barely breathing, not crying, and requiring additional support to help acclimate him to the world.

Foolishly, I thought he was going to be okay. I told myself that he was going to be okay because his heart never stopped and he was moving around now. I told myself that we got him out in time.

Shortly after our son, Shiloh, was born, my doctor informed me that he had sustained a brain injury while in utero due to my placenta abrupting unbeknownst to myself or the doctor. He had to be transferred to another hospital and undergo a cooling treatment for a condition called Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy (HIE). We quickly learned that this meant as Shiloh aged, there was a good chance we may have cognitive and physical deficiencies.

Entering the NICU doors everyday felt equivalent to being in a horror movie and walking down into the dark basement. You are terrified of the unknown waiting for you but you know you have to do it anyway. Throughout his cooling protocol and subsequent treatments, Shiloh showed us just how much of a fighter he was. We continued to see improvement in his overall being even after the neurologist told us there was a chance he may never walk or talk when he got older. Although we needed to process the idea that our son most likely would be special needs, we continued to show up for Shiloh as much as he was showing up for us. We were prepared to love on our beautiful boy and give him the best life possible no matter what.

Shortly before Shiloh was going to be moved to the part of the NICU where infants are transferred who are not quite ready to go home but require less intensive care, he began experiencing seizures that the doctors quickly realized were not easily maintained. Due to the number of medications they had to put Shiloh on to control his seizure activity, he had to be reintubated and have his IVs reinserted due to his sedated state. It felt like all of the progress Shiloh made after nearly two weeks in the NICU came crashing down on all of us.

A second MRI was conducted on Shiloh. I remember telling my husband that I didn't even want to know what the neurologist had to say. I knew before we met with them that whatever his results were, they were not going to be good and would change the course of Shiloh’s life as we currently thought it would set out to be.

When we met with Shiloh’s medical team they confirmed what we feared the most: His HIE condition had worsened, and the majority of his brain matter had necrosed. My husband and I had to pick between two horrible options; we could either have Shiloh’s ET tube removed and allow him to pass peacefully. Or, we could continue to keep him intubated and on his current medical treatment and see if he ever was stable enough to leave the hospital. If he was, it was pretty much guaranteed that he would be a bedridden, vegetative person who would require care 24/7. He also would most likely not live a very long life.

I remember wondering what I did in life that was so horrible that I ended up being dealt such a cruel hand? Most importantly, why did our beautiful son have to go through this? Why him? I privately bargained with the universe; if you need to take one of us please take me instead. Let my son live a long, fulfilling life. I tried to negotiate with a nonnegotiable force.

It only took a moment for me to know what was the best option for Shiloh. We came to the incredibly difficult decision to allow Shiloh to pass peacefully as we didn’t want him to be suffering any longer. We didn’t want him to simply be alive. We wanted him to live. And we knew that would no longer be an option for him.

Our son was born on March 17th and he lived for 17 days. He passed away in my arms. Most days I can still hear the last little breath he took and remember how cool his skin felt right before he passed. But, I also think about how beautiful he is. I remember how he looked more like me than his father. I remind myself how loved he will be by so many people, even by those who never got to meet him, for as long as we all shall live. I remind myself that I will see him again. And how lucky we are to have had him here with us even for a little while.

I am also reminded every hour of every day that life goes on even when the world ends for you.

We began receiving bills for Shiloh’s hospital stay even before we got Shiloh’s ashes back from the funeral home. My husband and I are doing our best to stay on top of all the invoices we’ve received, however, it seems like every week there is another statement being sent our way due to the many treatments and tests that took place for Shiloh. We have come on this platform to ask for assistance in paying Shiloh’s medical bills. Any assistance anyone is able to offer is greatly appreciated.