Our Story

“Your son will hold your hand for only a little while, but he will hold your heart for a lifetime.”  I do not know who wrote this, but I do know it could not be truer.

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It took me almost three years to be able to put into writing my thoughts and feelings about my son, Austin. Generally, I am a very private person but felt that I should share our story in the hope that you will help support his foundation.

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What should have been the happiest day of my life turned to the scariest.

My wife, Sara, had been in the hospital for almost three weeks. The doctors and nurses were doing everything in their power to slow down her pregnancy. At 19 weeks, Sara had already begun having contractions. At 20 weeks an emergency cerclage was ordered. Weekly ultrasounds were administered and bed rest was recommended. Sara was then admitted to the hospital at a little over 22 weeks.

Upon arrival, conversations were had with the NICU doctors recommending that we do not resuscitate the babies if they were born before 24 weeks. We were given handouts filled with statistics and speculation of what we could expect if they would just stay inside her long enough. Our goal of making it to 30 weeks seemed a long way away. Sara endured two more weeks of magnesium in the hospital as we watched every contraction on the monitor.

The days were long. I spent sleepless nights waking every two hours to help the nurse roll Sara onto her other side. The magnesium made her so weak. I remember thinking it was a very good day when she had the strength to apply her own lip balm.

What turned into the morning of their birth, I left the hospital at roughly 6 a.m. I went home for a quick shower before work. I was managing a printing company at the time and remember being in the production area when I got the call. Sara was nervous and just called to talk. It was a little before 8:30 a.m. when she let me go quickly as the doctor had come to her room. Ten minutes later she called back and said that I needed to get there as quickly as I could. She was dilated to 6 cm and they were going to deliver the babies by C-section. Being 45 minutes away, I drove at 100 mph to the hospital more scared than I had ever been. Sara was only 24 weeks and six days pregnant.

As they took Sara to prep her for surgery, I sat in the room with my in-laws. After a while, the nurse came to get me. When I walked into the room, Sara was prepped for delivery. The room was filled with doctors and nurses for both Sara and the babies. I sat down by Sara’s head and they started almost immediately. She was draped off just above her waist so I could not see anything unless I stood up; I mostly remained seated until the babies were born. It was so scary to see them delivered, so little and so frail. Austin was only 1 lb. 9 oz. and Mya was even smaller at 1 lb. 7 oz. They were immediately handed to the NICU doctors and nurses. I did cut the cord for both Mya and Austin, but remember at the time that I just wanted it to go fast so they could be tended to. I was so worried. They were so little.

After only a short time in the room our twins were swept away to the NICU. I stayed with Sara as they finished the surgery and moved her into recovery. She was still a little out of it but in very good hands. As I made my way to NICU, both our babies were in the private backroom with many nurses and doctors huddled around them. They were hooked up to monitors and the nurses tried to explain what all the equipment was doing. The nurses were unbelievable, both to the kids and to me. With everything going on I was scared to touch my own children as I reached my hand through the windows of the incubator. At that time both Mya and Austin seemed to be doing as well as could be expected.

After a short stay, I went back to recovery to be with Sara. When she was feeling a bit better they moved her to post partum. On the way, we stopped at the nurse’s station and Sara pushed the announcement button twice; once for each of them. The announcement then plays a song through the hospital. On the way to recovery they took Sara to the NICU to see the twins. She was able to touch each of them, but could only stay for a short time.

When we got to the recovery room Sara’s parents were there to meet us. I remember someone asking if each of the kids had 10 fingers and 10 toes. I remember not even caring; I just wanted them to be okay.

Sara’s parents didn’t stay long; I think they sensed we needed some time. When they left, Sara and I just held each other and cried. We were so scared, everything was happening so quickly.

Sara began expressing colostrum almost immediately. The nurses encouraged anything she could get; I was taking even the smallest amounts in a syringe to the NICU every 3 to 4 hours. Each time I’d stop in to see the kids. They were both on bili lights or in incubators covered with blankets. I would just sit next to them and stare. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world to watch your children suffer and not be able to do anything to help them or ease their pain. I could barely pry myself out of the room every time, returning with tears in my eyes.

Sara pushed herself to get up and about but was still primarily wheelchair bound. We made multiple trips to the NICU daily.

The next week was heart-wrenching with ups and downs many times a day. For every step forward the babies would take two steps backwards; we spent endless hours watching the monitors looking for any glimmer of hope.

The following Thursday things began to get worse. Austin had an infection, and the doctors could not seem to get a handle on it. His respiratory rate kept getting lower and lower as the doctors tried everything, but nothing was working. His fingertips began turning white as the blood was no longer fully circulating. Sara and I took turns throughout the night, for kangaroo care. The hospital gave us an open room, so we finally lay down together and tried to get an hour of sleep.

Early the next morning both of Austin’s primary doctors came into the room. They sat at the foot of the bed and told us that there was nothing else that they could do for him. The infection had spread and nothing that they have given him had worked.

In shock, Sara and I left the hospital for a few hours to go home and shower. I don’t remember either of us talking much during the drive as I think we were both trying to process what was happening to Austin, and coming to grips with what was inevitable.

By this time, Sara’s parents had left and mine had arrived. As we made our way back to the hospital I was having a very hard time believing that this was happening, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it. How could he have gotten this infection that they can’t seem to treat? Many “what if” scenarios kept rolling through my head. The doctors would try to explain, but it never seemed to sink in. He was suffering, in pain, and there was no chance that he would recover.

Some nurses, our family and a priest were all by our side. Sara held Austin for some time as she talked to him and said goodbye. I sat with them on the arm of the chair as we cried in disbelief of what was happening.

As I sat down, the nurse placed him in my arms. I stared through wet eyes, holding my son and knowing there was nothing I could do to help him. There was one thing that I always knew throughout my life: that I wanted to be a dad. And there I was, a dad, holding my nine-day-old and having to say goodbye.

Even after he passed I could not let go, knowing I’d never be able to hold him again. I miss him every day.

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Austin’s twin sister Mya remained in the NICU for another four and a half months. Each day was a roller coaster ride of ups and downs, just hoping we would not have to relive the nightmare.

Mya is now a happy 3-year-old, who warms our hearts with her smile and personality. We now also have a younger daughter, Rylie. She came into the world one day before Mya’s second birthday. Rylie was also a preemie, born at 36 weeks; for us that’s basically full term. We are very blessed to have our two little girls, but miss our son greatly, every day.