On December 7, 1999, my husband and my world shattered. Our beautiful son, Ryan Spencer, our third and last child died. He has a big sister, Alina, and a big brother, Tyler.
Our journey begins when I became very ill, and knew that I was carrying again. I have a condition called Hyperemises Gravideriam. I had to be placed on an I.V. And I was not able to keep anything down...not even water. I was on I.V. for about the first four months, but after that it seemed like everything was fine. At the time, I was 27 weeks along when I was bathing my two older children. I suddenly got a very bad backache, but I thought it was from bending over while bathing the kids. It was not long before the contractions started, and we decided to go to the hospital.
When we arrived at the hospital, I was immediately put on monitors and the nurse told me I was definitely in preterm labor. They were very aggressive in treating the labor and I had to stay in the hospital on magnesium for three days. I stayed on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy, with lots of trips back to the hospital to keep labor at bay. Then at 8 months, I had this horrible headache that would not go away. My doctor decided the best thing to do would be to take the baby.
On September 27, 1999 at 8:24pm, a beautiful 7lb 6oz baby boy was born screaming and crying. We named him Ryan “Spencer” Dugan. We went home when Spencer was three days old, and he was our healthiest baby. We got Spencer home and got settled in. The first time Alina saw Spencer, she told us that she thought Spencer would be “Our Shiny Special Little Angel”...and she would comment about this every day of his life. It really bothered me when she said this, but it is a great sense of comfort for our entire family now. (In fact, we put what she said on his headstone.)
We had a wonderful two months and ten days with Spencer...the night before Spencer went to live in God’s garden, we took him to an urgent care. There we were told he had a common cold, to take him home and give him Tylenol for the fever and a breathing treatment. We did so, and I tried to put Spencer down for the night, but he would not sleep. I nursed him but still he was not sleepy. So his sister and I laid him on the bed with him, he played, baby talked, laughed and smiled. I am so grateful now that he gave me these last memories of him being so happy. I looked at the clock and it was nearly 11:00 pm. I told him, “You have to go to sleep little man.” Little did I know this would be the last time I would see my precious son alive. I fell asleep nursing him.
I then woke up and my breasts felt so heavy and full and I was really happy for a minute, thinking that he had slept his first night through. How wrong I was! I started feeling around the bed for him. He usually slept right next to me. I felt his hand and it was ice cold. I figured he must have kicked the covers off. I then asked his sister to turn on the light so I could check on him. She did, and said really calmly, “Oh no, mommy, he’s dead.” She was right. All the color had drained from him and he had vomited blood and mucous. I panicked I picked up my baby and kept telling Spencer everything would be alright. My husband took the baby from me and told me to call 911. Ryan also immediately started CPR . The 911 operator walked us through the CPR until help arrived. When the help did arrive, they had to practically tear my husband away from Spencer. I don’t remember details after this point. I do know I called my mother-in-law to come for the kids. We were not allowed to drive ourselves to the hospital, so a very nice fire fighter drove us to the hospital. The whole way there, my husband kept telling me to pray. I told him I would, but somehow in my heart, I knew if was too late. I then asked the fire fighter if he knew what was going on with my baby. He told us that our son was in a very deep coma, and he has seen babies put out, but it looks very grim.
When we pulled up in front of the E.R., I saw my Dad, Mom, a nurse and a priest. When I saw the priest, my heart sank into my stomach, and I knew it was too late. I got out of the blazer and asked my mom where Spencer was and if he was alright. My mom said, “No baby...he’s gone.” I lost control of my body, almost falling to the ground. My mom caught me and held me and all I could do is scream, “No God! No God! Not my baby!”
The doctor told me she was very sorry...they had done everything they could and had worked on him for over an hour. The doctor asked us some questions about Spencer and his hospital visit the night before and then we were allowed to see him. On this huge bed lay my baby boy...lifeless...pale white...with a tube in this mouth. I begged them to take the tube out, but the nurse told me they could not. I was scared to hold him, but my mom held him...she rocked him...talked to him and cried a lot. I stayed in the room a few minutes and then I told my mom I had to get some air, because I felt like my heart and head would explode. After going back into the room, I told my mom I was ready to hold him. I sat and rocked him, looked at him, kissed him and told him how much I loved him.
A priest came in the room and then a detective came in to question us. He continued to ask us if we had done anything to cause our son’s death. We kept telling him NO, of course not. He asked if the baby had fallen off of the bed, if we had dropped him or if one of the other kids had done something to him. Our answer again was NO. He then let us know that we were being investigated for the death of our son, and he would need to spend some time alone with Spencer to take pictures. We told him to do what he needed to do...we have nothing to hide.
The next few days were a blur. I made the funeral arrangements with the help of my family. We later found out that Spencer should still be here, and died of Interstitial Pneumonia...his lungs hemorrhaged. We also found out after the autopsy that Spencer had a birth defect. He only had one kidney and should have never received his immunizations, but had done so one week prior to his death. The coroner told me his lack of one kidney did not cause the pneumonia, but contributed.
This is our story...not pretty, but true, and we are currently in the process of legal action. I was so lucky to have found MISS, and Joanne...she is a God send. I honestly believe that without the support of everyone at MISS, I would not be a survivor today.
In loving memory of Spencer...you will always be in mommy’s heart, and will never be forgotten. You are my baby...I love and miss you son. Love, Mommy
