Welcome to our New Zealand Chapter.
Our Chapter leader is a wonderful Mom Please read all about Megan. you can reach Megan Via Email @ babieswithwingsnz@gmail.com
My name is Megan Lee. I am 42 years old, and have had two miscarriages, and also have lost two sons to SIDS. My oldest son, Christopher Matthew, was born on 09 February 1986, and he grew his wings on 30 May 1986. I was 19 when he left me, and a single mother. I don't remember a whole lot about that period of my life. I remember going to see him in the funeral home, and telling people that I did not know who that baby was, but it looked nothing like my son. I don't remember a lot from the funeral. The occasional face jumps out, but I am not really sure who was there, or who was not. I know my mother was there, but that's not a good thing. I remember that the song I chose was from Winnie the Pooh. Christopher Robin is saying his prayers. Only I changed the word Robin to Matthew. I couldn't sing. I couldn't stop crying. At the cemetery, I was kneeling beside my son's grave, he had just been lowered in, and my mother came up to me and told me that my son was better off dead than he ever would have been with me for a mother. I nearly killed her. I remember that much. I also know that, right up to the day she died, I never forgave her for that. Or for a lot of other things.
As time went by, I was told a lot of different things about my son's passing. He had had a cold, and as a result of that cold, I had been told not to get him his vaccination that had been due at three months of age. The doctor wanted to wait until his cold had cleared up. Christopher's grandmother, his father's mum, noticed he had not been immunized, and, without my knowledge, took him to another doctor to have it done. A day and a half later, my son was gone. I don't know if that had anything to do with it, but the doubt will always be there. I was also told, that as a result of the minor heart murmur that he had, the cold he had could have entered this hole, and that could have killed him. It was, apparently, a possibility. Nobody could really tell me, and the cause of death was written as SIDS.
In time, I came to trust that this would not happen again. I was told that SIDS never strikes the same family twice. Hmmm.
After more than a few years, I met, fell in love with, and married my second husband, Peter. Before we married, we had two children, both boys, Alexander and Theodore. Alex is a healthy almost 5 year old, strong little man, but his baby brother, Theodore Douglas, is my second SIDS angel. He was born on 25 October 2006, and grew his wings on 25 December 2006. We were at my husband's grandmother's house for Christmas day, and our daughter was nearly 6, Alex was about 17months old, and I thought I would put Theo down for a nap so that I could concentrate on the other two during the meal. He had had his bottle, I had changed his bottom, burped him, snuggled him, and then put him down for a nap. We had Christmas dinner, and I checked on the baby. He seemed fine, but I didn't go over to disturb him. He was never a deep sleeper, so the slightest sound tended to wake him. I went out for a smoke, and to catch up with the family, and about 3.15, I thought, hmm. He should have woken for a bottle and a bottom change by now. I went to check on him, touched his hand, and knew. I just knew. I remember saying no please. Not again. Please not again. Peter's grandmother grabbed him off me, and took him out to the dining room table. I heard dishes hitting the floor, but I just sat there. I couldn't move. It was like I was frozen. I knew he was gone. I knew resuscitation would not bring him back to me, but I let them try. I knew he was gone. The ambulance seemed to take no time at all to get there. They ran inside, and worked on him. I sat outside, smoking, shaking. I thought I heard a baby cry, and said to Peter, they did it. He's back. I started to cry again, and my sister said no hun. There was no baby. Then Peter's mum came outside, looked at me and told me they had done everything they could, but he was gone. I remember falling to my knees, screaming. I could hear all this yelling, screaming, and turned to tell whoever it was to shut the hell up, but it was my voice. My scream. My wailing, that I could hear.
All the ambulance staff were crying. They asked me if I wanted to hold him, and I remember telling them to just try and stop me. I wrapped him up in his blanket, and sat holding him on the sofa. My daughter came in and asked me when the fairies were going to come and take Theo to be a star in the sky. I told her that there was a special spark inside each of us that makes us unique, special, different. That was the part of Theo that had gone to be a star, and what was left here, with me, was just the container that the spark had lived in for a while. She seemed to understand that, and was happy with what I had said. I looked over at the ambulance staff, cos I was not allowed to be left alone with him, and they were all crying again. I am not sure why. Then the police arrived, and asked if they could see my beautiful son. I let them check him over, and they told me that they could see nothing wrong with him and that they thought it was probably SIDS. They asked if I wanted to take him to the funeral home, and offered me and Peter a ride over. I told them that I was going to be smoking and they better not tell me that I couldn't. I went to go and get his car seat out of our car, but the nice detective told me that he thought Theo would be alright in our arms. He didn't need his car seat any more. We took him over to Tokoroa, to the funeral home there, and I didn't want to leave him there. It felt so final. We found out a few days later that it was SIDS. We took photos in the funeral home, which took me a long time to look at. Now it is nearly four years later, and I still hate Christmas. I will never look at a Christmas tree in quite the same way again.
Our Chapter leader is a wonderful Mom Please read all about Megan. you can reach Megan Via Email @ babieswithwingsnz@gmail.com
My name is Megan Lee. I am 42 years old, and have had two miscarriages, and also have lost two sons to SIDS. My oldest son, Christopher Matthew, was born on 09 February 1986, and he grew his wings on 30 May 1986. I was 19 when he left me, and a single mother. I don't remember a whole lot about that period of my life. I remember going to see him in the funeral home, and telling people that I did not know who that baby was, but it looked nothing like my son. I don't remember a lot from the funeral. The occasional face jumps out, but I am not really sure who was there, or who was not. I know my mother was there, but that's not a good thing. I remember that the song I chose was from Winnie the Pooh. Christopher Robin is saying his prayers. Only I changed the word Robin to Matthew. I couldn't sing. I couldn't stop crying. At the cemetery, I was kneeling beside my son's grave, he had just been lowered in, and my mother came up to me and told me that my son was better off dead than he ever would have been with me for a mother. I nearly killed her. I remember that much. I also know that, right up to the day she died, I never forgave her for that. Or for a lot of other things.
As time went by, I was told a lot of different things about my son's passing. He had had a cold, and as a result of that cold, I had been told not to get him his vaccination that had been due at three months of age. The doctor wanted to wait until his cold had cleared up. Christopher's grandmother, his father's mum, noticed he had not been immunized, and, without my knowledge, took him to another doctor to have it done. A day and a half later, my son was gone. I don't know if that had anything to do with it, but the doubt will always be there. I was also told, that as a result of the minor heart murmur that he had, the cold he had could have entered this hole, and that could have killed him. It was, apparently, a possibility. Nobody could really tell me, and the cause of death was written as SIDS.
In time, I came to trust that this would not happen again. I was told that SIDS never strikes the same family twice. Hmmm.
After more than a few years, I met, fell in love with, and married my second husband, Peter. Before we married, we had two children, both boys, Alexander and Theodore. Alex is a healthy almost 5 year old, strong little man, but his baby brother, Theodore Douglas, is my second SIDS angel. He was born on 25 October 2006, and grew his wings on 25 December 2006. We were at my husband's grandmother's house for Christmas day, and our daughter was nearly 6, Alex was about 17months old, and I thought I would put Theo down for a nap so that I could concentrate on the other two during the meal. He had had his bottle, I had changed his bottom, burped him, snuggled him, and then put him down for a nap. We had Christmas dinner, and I checked on the baby. He seemed fine, but I didn't go over to disturb him. He was never a deep sleeper, so the slightest sound tended to wake him. I went out for a smoke, and to catch up with the family, and about 3.15, I thought, hmm. He should have woken for a bottle and a bottom change by now. I went to check on him, touched his hand, and knew. I just knew. I remember saying no please. Not again. Please not again. Peter's grandmother grabbed him off me, and took him out to the dining room table. I heard dishes hitting the floor, but I just sat there. I couldn't move. It was like I was frozen. I knew he was gone. I knew resuscitation would not bring him back to me, but I let them try. I knew he was gone. The ambulance seemed to take no time at all to get there. They ran inside, and worked on him. I sat outside, smoking, shaking. I thought I heard a baby cry, and said to Peter, they did it. He's back. I started to cry again, and my sister said no hun. There was no baby. Then Peter's mum came outside, looked at me and told me they had done everything they could, but he was gone. I remember falling to my knees, screaming. I could hear all this yelling, screaming, and turned to tell whoever it was to shut the hell up, but it was my voice. My scream. My wailing, that I could hear.
All the ambulance staff were crying. They asked me if I wanted to hold him, and I remember telling them to just try and stop me. I wrapped him up in his blanket, and sat holding him on the sofa. My daughter came in and asked me when the fairies were going to come and take Theo to be a star in the sky. I told her that there was a special spark inside each of us that makes us unique, special, different. That was the part of Theo that had gone to be a star, and what was left here, with me, was just the container that the spark had lived in for a while. She seemed to understand that, and was happy with what I had said. I looked over at the ambulance staff, cos I was not allowed to be left alone with him, and they were all crying again. I am not sure why. Then the police arrived, and asked if they could see my beautiful son. I let them check him over, and they told me that they could see nothing wrong with him and that they thought it was probably SIDS. They asked if I wanted to take him to the funeral home, and offered me and Peter a ride over. I told them that I was going to be smoking and they better not tell me that I couldn't. I went to go and get his car seat out of our car, but the nice detective told me that he thought Theo would be alright in our arms. He didn't need his car seat any more. We took him over to Tokoroa, to the funeral home there, and I didn't want to leave him there. It felt so final. We found out a few days later that it was SIDS. We took photos in the funeral home, which took me a long time to look at. Now it is nearly four years later, and I still hate Christmas. I will never look at a Christmas tree in quite the same way again.