Yes, I’ve mentioned Luke before, but this Friday he would have turned 46. The bond between parent and child is unlike some others. Their very existence permeates every facet of our lives. And while I might not remember what I had for lunch yesterday, I remember the day our littlest guy came into our world.
He was born on July 28, 1977. He was due on October 15th. Luke Anthony Washburn weighed 3.5 pounds. I had a C-section, and in those days, you stayed in the hospital for about a week after the surgery.
Gary kept a positive attitude, even though he knew something I didn’t. I would get to stick my hand into the machine that was keeping Luke alive, but, unknown to me, he would be whisked away from Kewanee Hospital to the neonatal unit at Saint Francis in Peoria.
I wouldn’t see him again for a full ten days.
This didn’t sit well with me. What also didn’t sit well was that other family members got to visit him before I did. I was angry, scared, and in more physical pain than I thought I could handle.
Luke’s journey took many turns. I found out that we had to scrub down in order to visit him. That meant taking off all jewelry, scrubbing our hands and arms, and putting on gowns and masks. Luke was in Room 1, the room where the little ones got the most attention. Machines beeped, and our little one had so many hook-ups we couldn’t hold him. That would come later.
As time went on, Luke “graduated” to a room with a higher number. The highest number was 6. We wanted him there, then home, more than anything.
Clint and his other little brother had to endure their parents being gone every day, traveling to Peoria, scrubbing down, visiting, decompressing, then coming home exhausted. We had family that would babysit the kids, but eventually we would have to find someone else. A woman from the Methodist Church volunteered to take the boys – free of charge – whenever we needed to go, and for as long as we needed to stay. Both kids fell in love with Jackie.
As Luke graduated to higher-numbered rooms, we asked if his brothers could come visit. The answer was yes, so we bundled them up and took them to Peoria.
Luke was having a good day that day, so the nurses got him set up in a stroller, and Clint pushed his little brother up and down the hospital hallway. That was a great day. The doctors suggested we bring other family in, especially those we expected to babysit some day. We took Luke’s Aunt Vonnie and his grandma a few times. They were more than willing to learn what it would take to care for the littlest member of the Washburn family.
Luke finally made it to Room 6. But on a cold, late January night, Gary had a dream that a lion was roaring near his ear. A few minutes later, the phone rang. A doctor told us that everything that could be done for Luke had been done, and he would either have to be moved to a long-care facility and remain on a ventilator, or they could perform a tracheotomy and hope that worked.
Luke had been through more medical procedures in his short life than many have in a normal lifetime. You can’t even imagine what our little guy went through – and I can’t recall everything that went wrong, but suffice it to say that it was clear to us what we needed to do.
On a cold and sunny January morning, one week before his six-month stay at the hospital, we took our son off the ventilator. I held him in my arms, Gary stood behind me, along with two pastors from the Methodist church gathered inside Room 6.
We all willed Luke to breathe on his own. We believed he would, that he would be healed and would come home with us. As I stared down into his angelic face, I prayed. “Come on, honey, breathe.” I watched his chest, and within a few minutes, I knew he was gone.
I have a box in the attic that has journals. I wrote Luke’s medical history in them, and everything else you can think of. Almost six months of my son’s life is there, and after all these years, I don’t know if I could read them. But I think I want to try.
It’ll be hard, I know. I think of his big brother Clint pushing his stroller. I have to deal with both of them being gone. And I think something else.
I think I was blessed to have been a mom to all of my boys. I thank God I was given that privilege.
