Momma is under the weather. Another battle with a lifelong throat ailment, combined with a terrible allergy season in St. Louis. It all feels so familiar. Too familiar. Much like the sinus infection I was fighting the week before you died.
I've always worried my illness got you sick. We know you had bronchitis that day. A slight fever. What if Momma hadn't brought her sinus infection into the house? Would you still be alive? What if I was a healthier, stronger Momma? Would you have been strong enough to fight whatever it was that told your little brain to stop breathing?
And now...Momma is sick with The Pickle still being so young. So vulnerable. I'm afraid to touch him, or give him kisses. I can't get him sick. I can't, I can't, I can't.
It's been an overwhelming few days, and Momma's brain is playing tricks. The trigger? Dadda and I met with the amazing, compassionate lead doctor from the SUDC Research Project on Friday. He spent over an hour with us, explaining all their findings, answering our questions. He did confirm you had bronchitis, but has ruled your cause of death (or, lack thereof) as SUDC with bronchitis as a contributing factor. Your report will now be sent to the St. Louis County Medical Examiner's Office. And Momma will continue the fight for acknowledgement of SUDC. To get your death certificate changed. To make sure your death is counted as SUDC for the purposes of research, federal funding, and CDC recognition.
Peanut, your report, your research, is special to SUDC. Why? Because so many of the other SUDC children have a history of febrile seizures. But not you. The medical science you have been able to contribute is so valuable...I believe it will contribute to finding a cause, and eventually methods of prevention, of SUDC.
Earlier today, a member of the SUDC organization posted the quote below on one of the parent discussion boards and it seemed so perfect in terms of timing, and what Momma has been processing over the last weekend:
Peanut, you are still alive. In my mind. My heart. My soul. And, in your little brother and his smile. And in the wonderful, loving way I see Dadda being a father to him and a husband to me. I see you in every good deed, every kind gesture, every sparkle of the sun, every butterfly that crosses my path. You are in the fireflies that emerged this evening and the froggies singing outside my window.
My angel son, please be a super watchful angel brother to The Pickle tonight. Please help me keep him alive, and not get him sick. Please feel how much I love you, how much I miss you...how much I would give anything and everything just to have you here again.
I love you, Peanut - to the moon and back!