I want to write about Kyle. I have taken care of Kyle for the last 4 months and today he left our hospital for a facility in Phoenix. The place he went to is basically a nursing home for babies. Kyle is brain dead, the only readable activity on his EEG strip is seizure activity. I met him his first week of life, he was transferred to us from an outlying hospital. Everyone looked at him, shook their heads in judgment towards his mother and said, "How sad. What a beautiful brain dead baby. How sad." He was without oxygen for 30 minutes during his delivery. Completely healthy during the entire pregnancy right up until those 30 minutes strangled his little brain of life. And his mother, his manic depressive, 43 year old, low income mother decided she wanted to keep him alive via machines. And everyone thought ugly thoughts about her and talked behind her back when she came to visit, and judged her for her STDs and for her short skirts. My heart broke watching this pack mentality. Our need to push down the lowest and the weakest of us. As I got to know her and I saw a very complex, wise woman who has made bad choice after bad choice and has lived every consequence of those choices. She did lie. She was manipulative. And her choice for Kyle was the wrong one...but beneath all of it we built a relationship and she asked me to primary her son, which means I took care of him when ever I worked.

From the moment I looked at him I knew he was mine. He evoked so many questions and thoughts in me. He made me think and feel more than most people who have brain activity ever do. We were a strange little pair Kyle and I. He did not move, other than the occasional agonal gasp or posturing of his arms. When he was having a bad night he would open his eyes, as if trying to say, "Leave me alone". When I worked his little joints too hard during his range of motion exercises little tears would stream down his cheeks. I would whisper, "I'm sorry" into his ear. He had a trach that was attached to a ventilator and a gastric tube where we fed him directly into his stomach. His whole body was stiff and I worked 1-2 hours a night at loosening him up or giving his little body a massage. He became the person I bonded with the most at my new job. Being a new nurse on a floor like mine can be isolating....and while Ive made a few friends and got very close to 1 person I work with, most of my time was spent in my little corner with Kyle. I became very comfortable handling him, even with all his equipment, and got to the point, pretty early on, where I could hold him without worrying I was going to kill him. I know most would say he was a little heart pumping blood in a carcass. But I felt a piece of his soul was still in that little cage of a body. Amy, who was Kyle's primary during day shift saw the same thing. He was still, "in there" somewhere.

Needless to say Kyle has tested every fiber of my being. I held him a cried my goodbyes to him the night before last. Crying quietly so no one around would hear the weird new girl crying on the little brain dead baby. I told him I would miss him. That I loved him, and mostly that I was soo sorry. I grieve for his life like most grieve over a death. I am so sorry for him. I spoke to his mom on the phone the night before he left and she told me on the days she would visit and hold Kyle she could sense he was waiting for someone. She told me she thinks he was waiting for me. I hope he knew my touch as a loving one. I hope he felt my presence as a calming one.

Nothing is simple. Knowing him has made me feel like we are alone down here. He has made me doubt. He broke my heart and made me feel like I don't understand anything. I've gone quiet in my life with all of these questions that are now swirling. I wanted to share this with all of you, because I love you and I know my quiet has put a strain on some of my relationships