eric...adrienne...conrad

burning with the kiss of life

Connor's Story

2/11/99

Since today is the two month anniversary of Connor’s death, I figure someone else besides Eric and I should know the incredible story of his life and death. Connor was and is to date the most amazing, awe inspiring person in my life. Everyone that incredible should have their story told. It’s very important to me that SOMEONE ELSE should know the whole story about our baby, Connor.

Eric and I decide hell fuzzy yes, we want children and we are ready. We try for a while, and on 12/19/97 we discover we are pregnant. We are excited and thrilled, we tell his family on Christmas morning, by handing them small wrapped gifts…one baby sock for Mom, Dad, Erin, and Ryan…they are very happy, tears and photos mark the wonderful occasion. We are happy. We go home and at about 3:00 12/25/97 I get horrible cramps. We call doctor, he says to lay down and come in to hospital if I start to bleed. I do. The cramping and bleeding is bad, we rush to hospital. I miscarry and we are devastated. The happiest day immediately becomes the worst.

We try to get pregnant again, knowing that whatever caused the miscarriage was nature taking care of it’s self, in addition to letting us know that we are fertile and that things can change very quickly. On April 15, 1997, at 4:00 in the morning, I can’t sleep, I dreamt I’m pregnant…I get up and test and find out that I am indeed pregnant again! So I wake Eric up as it’s his birthday and say, “ Guess what? Happy birthday…you are going to be a Daddy!” We are so happy. I feel great and a doctor’s appointment confirms that everything is progressing just fine.

My pregnancy proceeds just fine, I feel great most of the time and Eric and I get educated about the healthy and wise things to do while pregnant. We buy books, read anything we can find, talk to everyone, get advice, and see the doctor a lot. Eric goes to every appointment with me. In July, we have our first ultrasound, and there our baby is: waving and jogging in place, so active and funny. We cry, we are so happy to see this little baby, and the doctor tells us everything looks great. I think right then that our baby is a boy; I just have a feeling…a little soccer player like his Dad! We don’t want to know the sex, we want to be surprised. I have blood drawn and many tests are done. They all come back that everything is fine, no problems. We are very relieved. Our doctor is a bit weird, we get the impression he doesn’t recognize us from appointment to next appointment, and he seems ill at ease with Eric. The doctor doesn’t really answer our questions, he tells us not to worry. This is irritating, we have the right to know EVERYTHING and he just seems to be in a big hurry all the time. We switch doctors in the middle of the pregnancy for these and other personal reasons, and we find a doctor we really like and trust from a referral from our therapist. He’s great, very honest and he encourages lots of questions. He seems to still care about the people he helps. He reminds me a little of James Earl Jones and a big Muppet mixed together.

We plan the yearly Catalina Trip, and we have fun, even though Eric worries a lot and watches me like a hawk. Ed and Tim seems very protective as well, and it makes me laugh to see them rush around like waiters, making me sit down and always telling me to be careful. It’s sweet. Towards the middle/end of my pregnancy, it is discovered that I have gestational diabetes, and I am put on a restrictive diet…it’s not that bad, I lose some weight and I test my blood four times a day. Every check up we hear the heart beat and we are told everything is great and that I’m doing a good job taking care of my baby and myself. Eric and I go on our Third year anniversary a bit early; we drive up the coast and stay in Cambria.

12/8/98 I go into labor…it’s hard, difficult labor from the beginning. 51 hours of every two minutes, one minute to longer contractions. We go to doctor twice during this time period. He says since for some reason I’m not dilating at all, a trip to the hospital is a good idea when I can’t take it anymore.

12/10/98 midnight…I can’t take it anymore. I think something is wrong. We go to hospital. Check-in, check position and dilation…Baby’s position is strange, wait for doctor. In too much pain for natural childbirth like we planned, an epidural (spinal) is ordered and performed. Doctor checks position of baby, baby has gone breech last minute. Breech babies are not delivered vaginally so a caesarean section is ordered for 10:30 a.m. We are scared.

12/10/98 10:43…The C- section proceeds, I am very scared, but Eric is there leaning over my face the whole time, so I can see him. We whisper together that we are so excited…I keep saying over and over that I am SO excited, we are having our baby! Because of the surgery and the hormones, I start to shake violently; this is common. The doctor seems to be having some difficulty getting our baby out, he has gone very high up into my thoracic cavity. Eric can see my body being moved and pulled and shoved. I can’t feel anything except some pressure, and even though I’m scared, we are both smiling and crying and talking about our baby.

Connor Ryan is born weighing 10 lbs 4 oz. But no one in room is speaking, it gets too quiet and no one will answer my questions…”Boy or girl?!!!” “Is everything ok?” “What’s going on?” “WHAT’S WRONG?!!” Many people rush into room and our baby is frantically ‘worked on’ for a long time. We have no idea what the problem is. Eric and I are very freaked out, we are confused and have no idea what is going on. I am sewed up, and the doctor is silent. The medication has made me very drowsy, and my mind is racing but I just lay there and wait for them to finish, since no one will answer me.

12/10/98 Eric goes repeatedly to find out what is wrong with our son. Our doctor keeps checking in to say he’s trying to find out, also. Connor is in ICU Neo natal unit. We haven’t seen him yet. We are assured they are working very hard to figure out what’s wrong, our son can’t seem to get enough oxygen.

12/10/98 Someone sees Eric standing outside Neo natal unit and asks him why. He tells them and they help him scrub up and suit up so he can come in to see Connor. He watches the many doctors and nurses try to help Connor breathe and live. Eric watches until he feels in the way. This is the worst day he can remember. I am in recovery, the c-section was very violent; Connor was very big and had gone straight up into my lung cavity so there will probably be more pain than normal during recovery.

12/10/98 A doctor, Dr. Robert Posen, tells Eric what our son is suffering from. A rare kidney disease. Autosomal Recessive Polycystic Kidney Disease. He tells Eric there is most likely no chance for survival, and Eric is faced with having to tell his family, my family, and our friends. Hours ago this was a room where the video camera was passed around to record the excitement and joy surrounding this happy occasion. Now it’s disbelief and pain. Eric wonders how he will tell me our son is dying. I know nothing.

12/10/98 Eric tells me. I can’t believe this is happening. I hope I’m asleep and I’ll wake up and realize that everything is fine. Doctor Posen comes in to talk to both of us and tells us that if we decide to, we can send Connor to USC Medical Center for testing and experimental surgery. He conveys that he has never seen this surgery work or help, it is kind of a guiena–pig type of situation, and that our son has a zero % chance of surviving. The surgery would cause Connor pain, and only ‘buy’ him a few hours more MAYBE, which would be spent in pain, away from his parents, and in a situation where nothing really would be learned. We decide this is selfish and wrong, and the doctor says that he thinks we are brave and compassionate people. Apparently, a lot of parents have a “go to any lengths” type of approach, even if the child will most certainly die AND be in pain…they want to keep their child alive for their own selfish reasons. The doctor says he would make the same decision we’ve made if Connor was his son. It is sad to think that people would prolong the intense suffering of their own child, for no other reason that “it’s hard for them …” Connor’s lungs would have split and cracked had they continued to try to resuscitate him. They assured us that they had him medicated NOW, and that he was in no pain, but to continue to sustain him WOULD cause him pain and it wouldn’t help him at all. We decide instantly without needing “the time to discuss it” that we love him too much to make him hurt anymore. We tell the doctor to allow Connor’s “systems to fail naturally” as he called it, and we ask the doctor to keep our son out of any pain. The doctor makes it possible for Eric and I to go see Connor together.

I am loaded on to a gurney (this is difficult as there are many I.V.’s, catheters and tubes.) I am not allowed to sit up because of the surgery, and Eric comes with me into the ICU Neonatal ward. We are the third couple in the history of the hospital allowed to see a baby in this room, it is dark and quiet except for the humming of the many machines needed for all the babies. Connor is still alive, he looks beautiful, and we are allowed to touch his feet and hands and tummy. His fingers and toes curl and move when we touch him. His eyes are closed. We cannot hold him.

12/11/98 We are told at 5:45 or so that Connor’s systems are failing, which means he is dying now, and the nurses and doctors rush to get me transferred back to a gurney so Eric and I can be with him. Same difficult time intensive procedure. We are lead BACK into the ICU Neonatal unit and a screen is arranged to allow Eric and I some privacy. All the nurses and doctors are crying as they touch us and hug us, as they get Connor ready for us to hold…they remove his I.V. and other things, but they are required by law to leave the tube in his mouth. I pull down my hospital gown and the nurses help me put Connor on my chest. Eric sits behind the gurney and wraps his arms around us both. We touch, smell, look at, and marvel over how beautiful he is. Connor Ryan Milliken dies at 5:59 p.m., 19 ½ hours after he is born. We cry and continue to hold him until I feel I won’t be able to let him go if they don’t take him. I have never in my life felt that love and pain…I love Eric with such an intensity it’s frightening and fierce and I was struck by how much Connor looked like Eric. I can’t believe this is happening. This is not happening.

12/12/98 Our friends and family (Eric’s) gather around us. We are surrounded by love and people who care. The hospital staff is incredible, and we receive many cards, gifts, flowers, and visits from so many. Two of the nurses, Kelli and Claudine come in on their days off to sit and cry with us. The staff keeps saying for some reason, Connor’s birth and death have affected them all deeply, even though this kind of thing happens and they see it a lot. They tell us that they are so sorry about Connor dying…and that we seem like good people. I think one of the reasons the staff is so moved is because Connor was so big and looked so healthy. We cannot believe he is gone. This is unreal. This hurts so bad I can’t breathe very well…I understand from the nurses that it is common to have problems breathing and swallowing after losing a child.

12/12/98 I am in pain. Eric is in pain. I try to walk. I get pain medication. Some family and friends have come everyday and stayed for HOURS. We are both moved beyond words. We feel in shock most of the time.

We sleep…we eat…we tell the story to everyone who hasn’t heard…we get sick…we cry…we are in a daze. I have a hard time looking at Eric’s face. The hurt is etched into his features now. He looks older. Overnight…this is not the same face I saw as we drove to the hospital. I am so sorry.

We do not understand this. We feel so lost. I am very worried about Eric, and I am in awe of his strength. He never leaves my side…He is always there...He helps me to the bathroom, he helps me do everything. He looks exhausted and so sad it hurts to look at him. I can’t do anything at all to help him. Nurses give us a box of mementos and photos of Connor. We have his death certificate and no birth certificate as of yet. There are foot prints and hand prints. His feet and hands look like smaller versions of Eric’s EXACTLY.

12/13/98 We go home. We cry all the way home. There is no car seat, no worrying about our drive home…there is no baby. We both imagined the ride home so much differently. We are surrounded by friends and family and love. We are touched and we feel so grateful to have people gathered around.

Shopping is done for us, food is bought, things are cleaned. Our house is filled with flowers. Eric sleeps on the floor next to the sofa as I cannot get onto bed. I need help doing everything. He gets little to no sleep. The baby’s room is completely empty. Everything is gone.

12/14/98 I still haven’t been able to go to the bathroom. The pain is incredible and the doctor prescribes a lot of stuff. More help, love, support. I am so moved and hurt and tired and sad.

12/15/98 Eric and I sign paper work at his parents house to have Connor cremated. We both sign our names as “parents of deceased.” Again I cannot believe any of this.

12/16/98 We get phone calls.

12/19/2000 That's the first 6 days. I'll post more when I can...