Dearest little Chew,
We let you down, I’m sorry. We should’ve argued for you louder, fought harder. This morning you woke up and you were so, so pale. The special nurse who comes when you get poorly came down, and within minutes the hallway was flooded with doctors and nurses and specialists trying to save you.
You have a very aggressive, vicious form of bacterial meningitis that has travelled down your spinal cord and has gone into your blood – which means you’re also battling sepsis.
We’ve had to remove your shunt and put an external drain in, you had that a few years ago and we were in hospital for 3 months. Please don’t try and pull your drain out this time, mummy can’t handle another admission like that.
Believe me when I tell you that your team have been told exactly what they’ve done. They were so, so adamant that it was a condition rather than an infection. It could have, and still might, cost you your life. They know where they stand, and I promise you there will not be a next time.
My heart hurts. Watching you, breathing through a tube. Broken ribs. Strung out on morphine. External drain in place, long lines and catheters. My heart is so heavy I’m practically dragging it behind me. My eyes burn from tears and my voice is croaked for shouting. I am so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.
I’m not going to ask you to hold on, because that’s not fair. I just want to tell you how proud I am of you. You have given this your all and I couldn’t have asked for anything else. I’m going to stay, right by your bedside. Holding your hand. Reading you stories. Keeping you cosy.
You have done, and are doing, so well. I’m the proudest parent in the world right now, and the only person who gets credit for that is you. Rest up, my darling little hero. This is on your terms.
I love you, more than you’ll ever have the ability to understand.
Forever my tiny prem, always my gorgeous boy.
Love, your broken hearted mama