In Memory Of Trevor G. Persson

This is an account of the day my 3 month old son Trevor, passed away from SIDS, as remembered by me.

25 years ago on this day, our son Trevor went home to be with Jesus.
I was not home when Trevor died. I had gotten up very early to get myself ready to be out of the house to attend my uncle Fred's funeral. Mark was already asleep after working through the night and Krista and Erika were sound asleep in their cribs. I got Trevor up to give him a bottle and afterward placed him back in the bassinet for his nap. Before leaving, I woke Mark up to give him the instructions for the day. The normal, what to give the girls for breakfast, to put them in the clothes I had laid out, what time the baby had to eat again, etc. And out the door I went.

Uncle Fred was a big voice in the family. He was loud and funny and everyone loved him. He was my father's sister's husband. He died suddenly of a heart attack while outside during a snow storm, using his snow blower. The family was devastated, to say the least. After attending the Mass and funeral at the graveside, we went back to my aunt's house. I distinctly remember thinking to myself that I should call home to see how things were going. But, because back in those days it would have been a long distance call from my aunts phone, I decided not to because I didn't want to put that charge on her bill. So, I waited it out a bit knowing I'd be leaving soon. Not long after, my aunt's phone rang. It was for me and it was Mark. He was crying and kind of yelling at the same time. He told me something happened to Trevor and they took him away in an ambulance, "I think he's gone" is what I remember hearing the most. My voice must have been raised as I kept asking him question after question because as I looked around the kitchen, the house had gone silent with everyone watching and listening to me. I can clearly remember seeing my cousin's wife Cheryl, with tears in her eyes and her hand over her mouth. My mom, dad and my sister Julie were right there with me and as soon as I hung up, they took me home to get Mark and to go to the hospital. On the ride home I kept repeating to them what Mark had told me. It really didn't make any sense to me. I just couldn't understand what had happened, but I do remember saying to them with all certainty, "he's dead, I just know it." I really felt it deep within me, like there was no room for maybe. I just knew it was so.

I kind of recall picking Mark up at the house but I'm really not clear on that. To this day, I still don't know who took care of Krista and Erika while my parent's took us to the hospital. Maybe it was Julie, I'll have to ask her. I feel like we sort of just busted into the emergency room and said to the woman at the desk, "my infant son was brought here in an ambulance." Instantly she directed us to a room where a doctor met us right away. He began asking us a bunch of questions about the baby's health and different things which I no longer remember, all without telling us if he was alive or not. I remember interrupting him and bluntly asking, " is he dead?" I don't really remember much talk after that. They told us we could see him and they brought him to us swaddled in a blanket. Can you believe after all these years, all I can remember is that he had a patch of blue on his face from lack of oxygen and that he had a piece of lint on his neck from the blanket. I can't remember if his eyes were opened or closed or what he was wearing. I can't recall how long we held him or leaving the hospital to go back home. But we did. One thing that stands out in my mind was that my mom and dad had to go over to my grandparents house to tell them the news. I felt so sad for my mom. I couldn't imagine having to tell them. Noni and Nonu were the only grandparents I had ever had, and my sisters and I were their only grandchildren. My mom is an only child so she didn't even have a sister or brother who could deliver the news for her. I know that noni felt as if mine and Paula's children where her grandchildren and not her great-grandchildren, and it disturbed me to think of how she would react. In fact, in Trevor's short life, my grandmother was the only one that had had the opportunity to babysit him. It was the one and only time we had needed a babysitter.

I somehow thought, that because Trevor was a baby, his death wouldn't have the impact of losing someone who had been here for many years. I was wrong. People came pouring into our house, and it seemed that, from everyone's reaction, the death of a baby was about as horrible as it could get. I was glad of that because, from being so numb, I didn't think people would care as much. The day was a Friday. Exactly 6 months to the very day that we had lost Mark's father. Everything seemed so strange to me that day. There was an air about the house that one only feels when tragic things happen. A fog, a wall, a darkness. Something that makes you feel like you're floating above it all watching from some other perspective. Of course it's some other perspective, it's YOUR perspective. You think to yourself that nobody knows how you really feel, how they are all so happy this didn't happen to them, and then you think, what do I do next? In a way, I felt like a little kid that didn't know what to do. I needed someone to tell me who to call, how to make the proper arrangements, if we should have a wake or just a funeral service. I was so young. You know what's strange to me, I was the one that lost the child, yet when my parents came back that evening, we stood in the hallway hugging each other and I remember saying to them, "I can't imagine what it must be like for you to have a child that has lost a child." I felt so sad for them. I knew they were worried about Mark and I and I just wanted to be so strong for them and anyone who may have felt uncomfortable approaching us.

That evening, my two dear friends, Dina and Beth came. Actually, I don't exactly remember if they were there that night or the next day or both. I just know they were there. I remember them taking charge of things. Helping with Krista and Erika and cleaning up. It seemed that people were calling and stopping by all afternoon and evening. And I remember the most unimportant things too. Like, that my mother had to sew a button on my pants. That my cousins brought all the leftover rolls and some food from my aunt's house, from uncle Fred's funeral. That my mother's friend Dottie stopped by with big pans of square pizza from the bakery and that someone else brought chicken pot pies from Harrow's, LOL, leave it to me to remember all the food. I also found it odd that people sent money. Why would someone give us money for the death of our child? We lived downstairs in a two story house with our landlords, Fran and Bob living upstairs. They had noticed that our oil tank was low and bought us 100 dollars worth of oil. Although they were our landlords, we always thought of them as our friends. We loved them then, and we love them still, to this day. I know Trevor's passing affected them profoundly.

Lots of babies are still not sleeping through the night at three months old. Trevor was no exception. For years I felt such a sense of guilt because the day my baby passed away was the first time in three months that I slept through the night. I felt guilty because I was sleeping and not up with Mark grieving. My body was exhausted from taking care of three babies all day long, keeping them quiet while Mark slept during the day, and up most of the night taking care of a newborn while Mark worked the night shift. I couldn't shut the light, or the TV, but that night, I slept.

Saturday we had to go to the funeral home to make arrangements. I don't remember much of that, except for that we decided not to have a wake, just a viewing for the family on Sunday and a service and Funeral on Monday. What I do remember, and remember clearly, was that the casket was white and it was tiny. Trevor wore the clothes he had worn on his Christening day and we placed a couple of toys in with him.

This may be a bit disturbing to some of you reading this and I'm sorry if it is, but this is a retelling of things I remember so I feel it's important for me to mention this. Especially since it's something that for years, burned in my memory of my last look at Trevor. On that Sunday when Mark and I were brought in to see Trevor, I looked down at him, determined to remember every detail of his little face. When I looked at his mouth, I noticed a small stitch in his lip from his mouth being sewn closed. How could they do that to my baby? How could they not notice that or think that I would not see it? A mother holds her baby close to her face so they can make eye contact, using that time to bond. She rocks him every day looking into his eyes and examining all the features God has given to him. You look at the shape of his face, his nose, his eyelashes and lips and wonder what he will look like when he grows up. You notice things that no one else does. Which is why I think, no one else saw what I saw when I bent down to look at my Trevor. I never said anything about it until a long time had passed. No one had noticed.

The day of the funeral it was raining. The funeral director called us to ask if we'd like a canopy set up at the grave site. We did. Driving to and from the church and cemetery, I distinctly remember looking out the window thinking how, no one out there (the other cars) knows how sad we are today. No one is feeling the pain we are feeling as they drive back and forth from their jobs or wherever they are going. That the world just keep turning and life goes on. I think of that now, when I'm driving and I see someone looking vacant or sad. You just never know what's going on in the other person's car.

I know that after the funeral our family and friends came back to the house. Other than that, I don't really remember what went on. A couple of day later, Mark and I packed up Krista and Erika and went up to the White Mountains for a few days to get away from the house and "try" to wrap our heads around what had just happened to us. It was helpful and the fact that we had two other children to take care of was a huge blessing. The twins kept us busy and kept us laughing. They were too little to know what happened to their little brother so for them, we had to carry on.

I didn't understand why God would allow me to bear a child for nine months, give birth to him and then take him away just three months later. It really made no sense to me at all. But then again, we are not supposed to know all the answers, just trust, that what has happened can all be made good by God. And it was. There are two lives in this world today that would not be here if Trevor had not passed away. God, in His infinite wisdom and love, turned our sorrow into happiness and joy at what He gave us. Happiness with the life of another baby girl, Ashley, and later, her daughter Cora. And joy in the form of his son Jesus, who forever lives in our hearts. I've learned that there is no sorrow that God cannot turn to happiness if you just trust and allow that it will be done.

So today we remember Trevor, whose life was very short, but so very important.