The DNR

This past June, Handsome was diagnosed with a terminal condition. We were told our son had significant brain atrophy and they didn't know what caused it and that there was no cure for it. We spent weeks in the ICU, where every few days a new doctor would be called in on consult and he or she would come "talk" to us. They'd ask us to reiterate what we understood about our son's condition. Then with empathetic eyes they'd explain to us how our son would probably pass. They'd talk about the aspiration pneumonia, he would develop or the cardiac arrest he might have. They'd explain to us how he was building up tolerance to most seizure medications, which meant one day they might not be able to stop his seizures. Then after all that, they would ask us to sign a DNR. 

Most people who know me personally, know that I RARELY make any decisions on my own. I talk to my husband before making purchases. I ask my brother for his opinion on discipline. My friends help decide on outfits and my mom helped me with choosing who I married. It's not that I'm not my own person and can't make my own choices. It's that, I've always looked for someone to blame, besides myself when the choices are wrong. When my husband tells me I wasted money on my new, ugly lamp I can say, "You're the one who told me to buy it."

I thought at first the reason I couldn't sign Handsome's DNR was because it was a choice I'd have to make and if I regretted it, I'd only have myself to blame. But as I sit here, staring at the now signed DNR, I realize my fears didn't lie in where I'd place the blame. I was terrified of those letters D N R for so long. No parent should ever have to consider them when it comes to their child, but some of us do. Just because it's not right, doesn't mean we can avoid it. 

I thought I was being a good mom by not signing it. By pretending his condition wasn't life threatening, I thought I was saving him. I kept telling myself if I signed that dreaded DNR, I was giving up on him. But my self conscious kept budding in, telling me I was being selfish. I'd defend my choices by reminding my conscious that waking up every three hours at night for feeds and medicines was not selfish. Committing to frequent hospital stays and up all night with breathing treatments was not selfish, it was doing what needed to be done to save my son 

But what kind of life is this for Handsome? In and out of hospitals. Invasive treatments. Breathing tubes. IVs, IOs. Shock therapy. Chest compression... I started asking myself how much of what he goes through is "saving him" and how much is just keeping him alive, because I'm not ready to let go... I'm not ready to let go... And that's when I realized something... 

I wasn't holding out on signing the DNR because I was worried about who I'd blame if I regretted it. I've been holding out, because I've been waiting for a miracle. I'm not ready to let go, because I still think every time my phone rings and its a number I don't know, that it's someone calling with a cure. I kept thinking if I could just keep him here long enough maybe someone out there would find a way to save him. 

A part of me feels like signing the DNR today was giving up that hope and I don't think that feeling will ever go away, but I also know I did the right thing. I did the best thing for my son. I used to think the DNR was the selfish choice, but it's not. I'm not taking my son's life away from him. I'm giving him a chance to live a better life then he has been living. A life without tubes and vents. Nights in his pajamas, in his crib, listening to his siblings tell him goodnight. Days in his house, with his family, watching movies. A chance to be home for the holidays and his birthday versus in an ICU. I know, now, that signing that DNR isn't about giving up on him and I know there is still a chance for that miracle. I haven't giving up on that, yet, either. I just can't keep putting his life on hold waiting for it, because one day, I may not have that choice anymore and I'll regret never letting him live a lot more.