These three words. How very common they are. Today, so innate to modern English language. How many parents have blurted them out at one time or another? These three words, “I Can’t Imagine”, stated almost as an automatic reflex whenever we hear of tragedy that is too painful to comprehend. These three words, “I Can’t Imagine”, habitually quoted whenever one tries to relate to the unthinkable. The absolutely unimaginable. The death of a child. I too, instinctively recited these three words when I would hear of a child dying . Cognitively I could not, would not, allow myself to remotely contemplate this nightmare ever happening to my family. I could never imagine that it actually would happen. Yet, our reality is that the nightmare did happen. My son died of SIDS and I have yet to awake from the surreal passage of time and to imagine how I will survive his death. On this, the second anniversary of his birth, we must as a family reflect on the profound and tragic events of the past two years and not only mourn the sudden and unexplainable death of our infant son but also memorialize his cherished brief life. We are wrought in the depths of despair and in the knowledge that our lives here on earth will be without the ability to raise our son. When your child dies you lose your future and your happiness. Each passing day we attempt to take a step forward but mostly find ourselves taking two steps back. The strength and courage to endure the pain is beyond human scope. Yet, to honor his life we must uphold his memory and try to find Peace. This is our story. The story of a beloved angel named Sam who blessed us with his divine presence and continues to guide us with his light from heaven.
Our lives were so well planned out. We thought we were in such control. We waited to get married. We waited again, to have children until we completed advanced degrees and were sure that we were emotionally and financially mature enough to be the best parents that we could be. We were blessed with our first child, Amanda on 5/12/94. She is our “Rose” and we knew that we wanted another child to complete our family . We were blessed again when we found out I was pregnant with a son. We had always dreamed of having a son and planned to name him Samuel, after his paternal grandfather who lived an honorable and distinguished life. How happy and excited we were. The pregnancy went well. I was very careful to take exceptional care of myself and the life of my son growing inside of me. In the eighth month of my pregnancy we found out that I was going to experience complications giving childbirth and it was decided that I would have a C-section. Samuel Andrew Seaney was born on March 23rd, 1999. He was a healthy 7.5 lb. baby boy. He was strong, grew quickly, and ate ferociously. We cherished him and he was the light of our lives. As a family we were so happy. I stayed home for 3 ˝ months before returning to work. We hired a Nanny who was highly recommended and who had twenty years of experience as well as having run her own nursery. She cared for both our daughter and our son in our home. Life was so beautiful. We had never been happier. I had only been back to work 2 ˝ weeks when the unimaginable happened. Our lives would change forever. The nightmare began.
The day was Monday, July 19th 1999. I awoke early to nurse my son. Sam was so happy and content and he loved to eat. Our Nanny arrived at 7:00 a.m. I left for work and called numerous times throughout the day. All was well at home. He was content and cooing for his Nanny and big sister. We had always warned our Nanny to place Sam on his back. We never laid him on his stomach. She laid Sam to sleep that day for his afternoon nap at 1:30 p.m. I was paged at 4:00 p.m. The words of that call will forever be etched in my memory. Our Nanny was inconsolable. Next, a police officer got on the line and told me that my son had stopped breathing. He was found lying on his stomach. I rushed to the hospital with hope that he would be resuscitated. My husband met me at the hospital. We were told, “We did everything we could to save him”. The shock of being told that your child has died is unimaginable. At that moment, I disassociated. The events that followed remain a blur. We held our son for the last time that day. The presence of light surrounding him at the time of his death is the one consoling memory we hold on to. The illumination touched all in the room that late afternoon. The light continues to guide us to this day.
The minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years that have followed have been a true test of indescribable pain and sorrowful endurance. The outreach of support and love we received from our family and friends carried us through those horrific early days. The ongoing compassion and understanding we have received from other bereaved parents has carried us to the present. These bereaved parents, perfect strangers to us yet, they were all too familiar with the pain, the unimaginable, the complete devastation. The universal language of grief was spoken by all of us. It is these parents who have made the true difference in our lives. They softened the unimaginable blow by being there to cry, to listen, to offer support, and to give us hope. Parents such as Joanne Cacciatore, representing M.I.S.S. whom from the moment she was contacted was there to console my husband and I. Her sympathetic words of caring, and understanding remain to this day. She keeps the memory of our son alive when others in time have forgotten. There is no greater gift then that which we have received from these bereaved parents. Those who have reached out to us and other families through the SIDS Alliance such as Sandi & Eric Quan and Tracy & Scott Weeks. These parents give unselfishly of their time to literally saves lives. Lives of those parents and families who are left to bear the cross of the unimaginable. Grandparents such as Sandra Graben and Lee Ward from A.G.A.S.T. International, Alliance of Grandparents who are there to help ease the pain for other grandparents who suffer “double grief” in trying to console their child while dealing with the unimaginable emotions from the death of their grandchild. My husband and I have learned from example and have come to realize the greatest lesson in life. To heal thyself, you must give of yourself to heal others. The guilt, anger, and bitter helplessness can only be altered when you give back. These three words, “I Can Imagine”, are tragically part of our vocabulary but so are “I am here to Listen”.
Sam came to us in March and returned to Heaven in July. He never went through a Winter, and where he is, it is always Spring. His life was brief, but it was rich with love and comfort. Sam never knew pain or disappointment and he never will. He will be our happy, laughing baby boy forever and we absolutely know that we will be united once again in the presence of light.
