Day 37 (July 31)
This was the last time I was able to hold Ian. I held him for two hours. Ian fell asleep in my arms. While mos
t mothers take this gesture for granted, I will hold this particular memory in my heart forever. My son looked me in the eyes and fell asleep in the comfort and warmth of my arms. Nothing could ever replace that feeling.
Day 38 (August 1) - Day 46 (August 9)
August did not prove to be a very kind month for Ian. Right after these pictures were taken, Ian took a turn for the worse. During his third bone marrow biopsy, he was accidentally given the antibiotics to which he was allergic. He became sicker, then sicker yet. He was transferred into isolation
because his white blood cells were near zero, putting him at a severely high risk of getting an infection with nothing to fight it off.
At the same time, on August 6th my grandmother passed away in Colorado. I forced my mother to go to the funeral despite her arguments, so that she could be there with her brothers and sisters. They flew out on August 7th.
In the end, she ended up missing the funeral, instead taking the first flight back home on August 9th at hearing of Ian’s present condition. This was an extraordinarily difficult time for our family.
On August 9th we had a “Care Conference” with all of Ian’s physicians. They told us that after his third bone marrow biopsy, they found that Ian was not producing any platelets, white blood cells, or red blood cells in his blood.
Their analogy was this: The typical person’s blood can be compared to Lambeau field during a Packer game. If you stand in the middle of the field, you see a sea of yellow, green, and white colors from the fans (representing platelets and red and white blood cells). Ian’s Lambeau field had no fans.
We decided to put Ian on the bone marrow transplant list with hopes of his being able to get a match ASAP. That was apparently not meant to be. After we left the meeting, we learned that Ian’s saturation rates for breathing were at 60%. It should have been at 100%. Ian’s little body was giving up on him. He just couldn’t hang on anymore. Our little fighter had fought his last fight.
Day 47 (August 10)
At approximately 1:00 am, Ian Larsen Gromowski went to heaven to meet his Grandpa Ken.
No words exist to express how Scott and I felt then, feel now, or will feel for the rest of our lives. We had a son who died after just 47 days of life and who suffered tremendously. To say we miss and love him beyond belief does not even begin to do our feelings justice. Life has changed greatly for us. We are changed people. No one and no child will ever replace our precious “lil’ sunshine” Ian.