By: Jessica Thompson
Trigger warning: child loss
The room is unremarkable, filled with a couple of chairs and a box of tissues. This is the conference room where we first heard about our triplets’ health, born prematurely and barely hanging on. Within these walls lies a tale woven with hope, sorrow, miracles, and devastation.
It was here that we received the joyous news of our children’s survival, only to be blindsided shortly after with news that shattered our hearts.
My partner and I had assumed we were attending a routine meeting with the NICU team. After the loss of our first triplet shortly after birth, our surviving babies were whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit. At five weeks old, we dared to believe that we might soon bring them home. We took our seats at the table, eagerly awaiting updates from the doctor and our nurse. They began with our daughter, Lily, sharing a glowing report about her progress, a true fighter in every sense.
But then came the moment that would alter our lives forever. As the doctor turned his attention to our son, he paused just long enough for us to sense that the news was not good.
“Scans reveal your son has experienced significant brain damage, likely due to surgical stress,” he stated, and in that instant, my world came crashing down. My mind went blank while tears streamed down my face. I struggled to catch my breath as the room felt suffocating, closing in on me. I sat in silence, my body frozen as the doctor detailed our son’s prognosis. I glanced at our nurse, her eyes glistening with tears, staring blankly at the table that connected us.
Our son had survived a precarious surgery at three weeks old due to a serious condition known as NEC. While doctors had temporarily addressed the perforations in his intestines, the procedure took a devastating toll on his fragile body. As the doctor explained the nature of the injuries, he sketched a diagram of the affected brain areas. I found myself in a daze, my body present but my heart shattered into countless pieces. I nodded through the revelation that our son might never walk and wept at the uncertain future lying ahead.
After the doctor and nurse excused themselves, we were left in a silence thick with anguish. As the door clicked shut, my body crumpled into deep sobs. I held my partner closely as we mourned together, the only sounds being our heartache echoing through the room. What began as a routine visit to the NICU had turned our lives upside down—one child was thriving while another was slipping away.
In the following weeks, as our son’s health continued to decline, we faced the unimaginable choice of whether to continue his care. On August 16, 2013, just two weeks after that fateful meeting, we cradled our son as he took his last breath.
I often reflect on that pivotal day, yet over the years, I hadn’t considered the significance of the conference room again. This past spring, I returned to the hospital to discuss donating books in memory of our triplets. Upon entering the NICU floor, I was struck with emotion—I had returned to that very room. As I stepped inside, I felt an overwhelming wave of feelings, reminiscent of the day nearly five years prior. I could visualize my partner and me sitting there, blissfully unaware of the impending heartbreak.
As I spoke with the staff about our plans to honor our children, a sense of peace washed over me. In this very space where we once learned of our son’s grave condition, we were now celebrating him and his siblings. A place that had been steeped in unbearable sorrow was now filled with love, hope, and cherished memories of our three children. I took a moment to glance around the room one last time, smiling at the thought of what these walls might say if they could talk.
In this small, unremarkable conference room, life has indeed come full circle.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the profound emotional journey of honoring lost triplets five years after their passing. It captures the transition from unbearable heartache to a celebration of their memory in the very room where devastating news was once shared. The author finds peace in commemorating their children while encouraging others to explore valuable resources on pregnancy and home insemination.