I literally felt like the breath had left my body the minute my little boy was gone.
I cannot forget the day I told my husband we were expecting a baby in April 2018.
As the weeks went by, each was a milestone for me and I tried not to rush to Google too much
(which made me paranoid throughout my entire pregnancy! I’m sure all moms can relate). I kept
reading about miscarriage possibilities and when I finally reached 12 weeks I decided to start taking
weekly bumpies (photos of the belly bump), which was now very obvious and we started sharing the
news with those close to us.
I was excited about every event of the pregnancy, even going to register at the hospital for prenatal
visits. I started doing yoga to keep me calm as well as prepare me for the birthing process.
To be honest, the first trimester for the most part was a breeze, I honestly didn’t expect that
because I just always thought I would have a rough pregnancy.
Feeling the first flutters brought my heart joy and I was so anxious to have my husband feel them
too. When his movements got stronger, he was finally able to feel the baby move as he responded
to our voices and to music I played just for him. I think at this moment, I finally realised I was about
to be a mom and it made me happy but it scared me at the same time. I prayed that God would
make me the best mom to our baby and I remember praying everyday for a healthy and full term
pregnancy because reading other mom’s unfortunate stories scared me and I didn’t want that
reality.
The last week in August, my co-worker/friend and I went to Los Angeles for a training and we had
decided we would try to get some shopping in for the baby. By now, I was already 23 weeks.
Each trip to a baby store or a baby section filled my heart with joy and I was so anxious for the day to
come when I would get to welcome him in this world. Little did I know that day was sooner than I
thought and not at all what we had expected.
Have you ever seen a glimmer of hope just to watch it all crumble right before your eyes? That’s how
I felt the first week of September when a trip to the doctor, due to pains in my stomach, found me
MY PREEMIE STORY
rushing to the labour ward at the UWI hospital. The doctor had found protein in my urine and my
blood pressure was significantly high.
“You’ve severe preeclampsia”, the doctor at the hospital said. Here I was thinking it was a urinary
tract infection! I had seen that word before but to be honest, I never thought I’d develop it. I wasn’t
hypertensive, ate healthy and took my vitamins plus I was exercising. Every ultrasound, every
prenatal visit to the doctor was great.
Unfortunately that evening the doctors confirmed I wasn’t well and they had to give me steroids to
develop the baby’s lungs in case he had to be delivered.
The following morning, one of the doctors told us my blood platelets and liver enzymes were getting
better so we thought that was great, I wouldn’t have to deliver the baby…. And then the bomb was
dropped. My preeclampsia was severe, I also developed HELLP (Hemolysis, Elevated Liver enzymes
and Low blood Platelets) syndrome and the only solution for this was to deliver the baby so they
could remove the placenta from my body. My husband and I were being prepped for surgery. We
got a list of a million and one things that could’ve gone wrong with DJ (Damani’s nickname) after his
birth but there was a 40% chance he would survive.
I had to have an emergency C-section and because my platelets were so low, I had to be given
general anaesthesia to prevent me from bleeding out. The doctors told us many things could go
wrong during the surgery, I could wake up without a womb, or in the ICU, I could not wake up at all.
That day was very overwhelming for us and our families but we continued to stay hopeful in prayers.
I was whisked away to surgery that afternoon and that day, September 6 at 5:50pm Damani Joshua
Miguel Williams was born. He was immediately rushed to the NICU as his lungs hadn’t fully
developed as yet at 24 weeks. He weighed 510 grams. We were told he was the smallest baby to be
born alive in the Caribbean (disclaimer: not sure how true this is).
Unfortunately because I did surgery I wasn’t able to see him but my mom saw him right after the
surgery and my husband was able to see him that night. He snapped the photo seen above. This is
the only photo we have of him since he graced this earth, a photo we will forever cherish.
His first night they thought he wasn’t going to make it but our little boy was a fighter! The breathing
tube was too far down his tiny body and after that was fixed, his father got to see him open his big
brown eyes and kick his tiny feet at him in excitement. He definitely recognised his father’s voice. By
the second day I still wasn’t able to see him yet, which really frustrated me because I wished the
hospital would just put me in a wheelchair and take me to see my baby! I didn’t care how much pain
I was in. By the evening, my husband had delivered the news that he wasn’t doing too well and we
just kept praying and hoping for a miracle for our baby boy. I couldn’t sleep. When I did sleep all I
dreamt of was my baby being healthy.
On Saturday afternoon, they finally allowed me to see him and I was so excited I messaged my
husband and told him the good news. I was wheeled off to the NICU and when I finally got there
they started to give me the news… ONLY. BAD. NEWS… It didn’t look good, he wasn’t breathing on
his own and he had to get transfusions.
When I finally got up to see my son in his incubator, I was frozen. Frozen from guilt, frozen from
anger, frozen from heartbreak. I couldn’t even muster up the courage to speak to him. He had
waited all this time to hear my voice and I was weak. I called my husband and told him to come right
away I couldn’t even tell him what happened.
When Miguel finally came and we went to his incubator, I finally mustered up the courage to speak
to DJ. His heart rate was very low and they had to be manually pumping him and giving him oxygen. I
thought this was so ironic, DJ always had a strong heartbeat at every ultrasound that I kept asking
the doctors if it was normal. Even the day when I got admitted to the hospital his heartbeat was
high. But sadly, that day it was under 100.
I prayed while speaking to him and begged him to fight. I cried out his name and suddenly his chest
moved upwards as if he was taking in air and his eyes opened to look at me, a moment shared
between mother and son that I’ll never forget. His heart rate went back up and the doctor advised
us they’ll be putting him back on the ventilator one more time but they will not be able to
resuscitate him again due to the extensive damage it will do to his already frail body.
At around 5pm on September 8, 2018, Damani’s spirit left his body and we were ushered in to say
our goodbyes. If I didn’t say this was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my 28 years of existence
I’d be lying. I literally felt like breath had left my body the minute my little boy was gone. I touched
his hand and his tiny feet, so warm and so perfect. I remember praying that my baby would have 10
fingers and toes. They were all there. We were given the chance to hold him for the first and the last
time. We held him, we bawled and we said our goodbyes to our little boy who had now gained his
angel wings.
We got to know him for six whole months and those months will always be the best of our lives. His
memory will not be forgotten and we will continue to carry him on. A little piece of heaven is now in
our homes and hearts because of DJ and I’m forever thankful to God for giving him to us.