Oh Baby Bentley

Oh, my sweet baby boy. Grandma misses you more than I could EVER say. How does this happen? Every ounce of my spirituality has been challenged. I will never, EVER forgot the events of night we lost you. I will never, EVER forget YOU. Bentley HATED his diaper changed. I had just changed his diaper and he was pissed! I couldn't help but to giggle at him, and this was the first chance I'd ever had to get a picture of him crying. Little did I know, it would also be my last.

It was a few minutes after 10pm, on a Wednesday night. Wednesday December 1, 2021 to be exact. I had stopped into our local gas station carry-out and purchased a donut. I walked back to my car and took a bite, and it was extremely stale. Normally, I'd just throw it out and chalk it up to a loss of a dollar-something, but that night for some reason, I went back in and was going to tell them and get a refund.

When I entered the store, it was busy. Two lines were open and I stood in the one waiting my turn. My phone was in my purse and I heard it start ringing. I reached in and pulled it out and saw it was my son calling. I swiped to answer it, and as I was pulling it up to my ear I thought I heard him sob. I thought to myself "Was that a sob? No, I must have heard wrong". I said hello to him and there was silence and then he choked out the words that no grandparent ever wants to hear. The words that no parent should ever have to say. "Mom where are you? I need you. You need to get here now mom. Hurry. Mom, Bentley's dead". I heard those words, but why would he say that? That doesn't make any sense. Bentley was just a baby, and babies don't just die out of the blue! I had just held him and he had just given me THE cutest smile with a huge dimple on his right cheek, 2 days ago. I HAD to have heard him wrong, with the busy bustle around me. I said "What did you say?" he sobbed the most gut wrenching sob I've ever come out of a human and he said "Bentleys dead. He's gone. He's just gone Mom, he's gone". I said "What do you mean he's gone, Matthew? What happened?" He said "I don't know Mom. He's gone he's just gone. The police are here and they're working on him". I said "If they're working on him, then how do you know he's gone? Did they revive him? Matthew did they revive him? Are they still working on him?". At that point I was literally shouting repeating over and over "Matt answer me did they revive him?". "I don't know Mom, I don't know". I said "Matt, what happened? How did he die?" Matt said "I don't mom. He was sleeping. I went upstairs to check on him and he was purple. He was purple Mom. I called 911 and I did cpr on him until help got here and they took over. It was 18 minutes mom. I did cpr for 18 minutes but he was still purple and not moving when they got here and took over. A policeman is coming out now Mom, I have to go". I heard a screen door slam and the high pitched wail of my daughter in-law. The phone went dead. With the slam of the screen door and my daughter in law wailing, I knew they didn't revive him. My grandson was dead.

As I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked up, the store was eerily quiet and everyone was staring at me. I didn't know ANY of those people in that crowded store. The cashiers were both acquaintances of mine, as I'm a regular customer there, but I didn't know ANY of these people that were quietly staring at me, like they were looking for an explanation. I quietly said, "My grandson's dead. He's just a baby, but he's dead? He can't be dead! Matt wouldn't answer me when I kept asking if they revived him". A few people gasped. A few people mumbled "oh gosh I'm so sorry". But everyone, just stared at me. I didn't know what to do. I quickly walked to the front of the line, plunked down the donut and said "This is stale. I don't have time for a refund, but they're stale so don't sale anymore to anyone else".

My phone rang again. It was Matt. When I said "hello" he said "Mom, I need you. Where are you? I need you mom. Hurry up and get here. Please hurry. I need you". He was sobbing. I was shaking. I was numb. I didn't know what to do. My son and his family, had just moved the week prior from our little tiny town, almost a complete hour north to Toledo, OH. As I put my car in reverse I knew I was hyperventilating. My feet started going numb. My hands were numb. I was sobbing. My daughter and her fiancé lived closer than my house was. Two years prior, I had sold my home to move in with my parents. I'm an only child who has their medical POA and their health was quickly failing. Being single for almost a decade at that point, and my children all being grown and out on their own, it just made more sense for me to move in with my parents.

I got to my daughter's house and started frantically beating on her door. At this point, I was completely hysterical. I was sobbing uncontrollably. She opened her door and I rush through into her kitchen. I looked at her and hollered "Bentley's dead!". She looked at me and said "Who's dead?" I just kept yelling through sobs "Bentley's dead. Baby Bentley. Your nephew. Your brothers baby, he's dead". I then couldn't help it. I collapsed, falling to the kitchen floor. No more did I land on that floor then my phone started ringing again. I pulled it up and swiped to answer it and hit the speaker button. My daughter, crying with a shaky voice, started saying "Matthew I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Matt". Instead of saying a word, my son started retching. He was dry heaving. That ripped my entire sould out hearing him that upset. Once that was done it was the same "Mom, where are you? I need you mom. Mom, please hurry and get here". I told him ok, that I had to stop at home and let Grandma and Grandpa know where I was going and what was going on. "Please Mom, just hurry. Hurry mom I need you".

I may have been an almost 51 year old woman at the time, but I didn't and still don't, do death well. Death, along with dead bodies, is an insane fear that I have. Yes, logically I know that it's part of the life span. In one form or another, I've been in the medical field most of my adult life. I've just lucked out somehow, that I've never been presented with a dead person before. Yes, my grandfather had passed. Yes, my grandmother had passed. But I was young. I saw them at a funeral home nicely placed in a casket looking peaceful. Just the thought of me walking into my son's house, where my grandson had just died, petrified me. Through tears I kept telling my daughter "I can't do this. I HAVE to do this. HOW do I do this? I don't even want to be in the house that my sweet baby Bentley just died in". My daughter said "Mom, I know this is hard but you HAVE to get up and go! Matthew needs you! He needs you mom!". I begged my daughter to go with me, but she couldn't. She had a 13yr old girl with her that she was babysitting over night. I begged her to call her friend, the girls mother, and tell her to come get her. She told me that she couldn't because the girls mom was out of town.

I pulled myself together enough, to get off the floor and head for the door. The 6 minute drive to my house, my mind was numb. Tears were flowing down my face. How was I going to tell my parents this? I had to and I had to hurry. As I was turning onto my road, Matt called again. "Where are you mom? Are you close? Hurry and get here mom! Mom I need you. I need you Mom". In his emotional state, he had no concept of time. I said "I'll be there as soon as I can baby. I'm pulling into my house now. I have to run in and tell Grandma and Grandpa what's going on and that I don't know when I'll be home. I'll be there as soon as I can baby".

When I walked into the house, my dad was sitting in his recliner. My mom was standing there helping him take his shoes off. I came in like a hurricane and they both quickly looked at me. I choked out the words between sobs "I just stopped here to tell you guys that I have to go to Toledo. I have to go to Matt's house and I don't know when I'll be home. Bentley's dead. He's dead and the police are there and Matthew is sobbing and dry heaving and begging for me to get there". My mom was just staring at me with a bewildered look on her face, not moving at all. My dad said "Wait a minute, who's dead? Matt's dead?" I said "No, Matt's baby is dead. Baby Bentley died". My dad said "you should get out of here and get over there". I nodded my head and high tailed it out the door.

I barely remember the drive there. I had a long stretch of a dark, hardly traveled state route I had to take before I hit the highway. I remember it was dark. It was so pitch black out. I called my daughter and had it on speaker, as I was driving. I kept telling her I didn't know how I was going to force myself to walk into that house, but I knew I had to. Matt beeped in, again wanting to know where I was. He just couldn't process time. I kept reassuring him that I was on my way, and going as fast as I could.

I'm just a little small town girl. A country hick. Cornfields were in my back yard, and my children's school literally sat in the middle of corn fields. Driving on the highway and all the way across the big (to me) town of Toledo, felt like a never-ending journey. As I glanced up at my gps, it said I was only 9 minutes away. I had 9 minutes left, to suck up my tears. To be strong for my son. To get through the doorway of his house, and get him into my arms. But what do I do? What do I say? I don't know how to make this better for him. My son NEEDS me, and I as a mother, don't have a single damn clue as to what I should do for him. I forced myself to stop the tears and sniff my nose. It was now 8 minutes. In 8 minutes I had to be made of steel, because my son needs me.

The phone rang. I hit the speaker button and said "Matt, I'm only 8 minutes away now. Gps says I'll be to you in 8 minutes". He said "Ok mom hurry. The police wanted me to call you to see if you're close or not, because the coroner is on his way. They said he'll wait for you to get here to see him though, if he gets here before you do". WHAT?! The baby is still IN the house?! You have to be kidding me! Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think that my grandsons body would still be laying in that house when I arrived close to 2 hours after my initial phone call!! Panicking I said ok and hung up, then I lost my shit once again. Oh my gosh. Not only do I have to be in the house my grandson died in, but I have to SEE my grandson laying in that house dead. HOW do I do this?! No choice, I had to do it. My son needed me.

I turned onto my sons street and immediately saw 2 police cars. They were blocking the long drive so I parked out front and ran across the street. At this point, I wasn't even thinking at all. I was completely numb. I ran to the back door, seeing that just the screen was shut. The inside door was open. The kitchen was dark, but the living room was lit up. I jerked the screen open and went barreling in. I turned to the left, then turned right, and was facing the lit up living room and there he was. I was only 2 bounds into the home, when smack in front of my view, laid my sweet, precious, baby Bentley on the living room floor. There was a stark white bath towel over his body, except his precious little head was out and a little bit of his tiny little chest. The back of his head was facing me, and I could see the side of his purplish-grey little face. His little mouth was gaped open and there was one little, tiny, ekg lead still on his chest. I stopped dead in my tracks. My daughter in law, knowing from the past how death scares me said "Just a minute" and she got up and flipped the towel over his face too. I had to walk past him to get into the living room. Oh for the love of God, I just had to do it. I had to put one foot in front of the other, and just do it. I couldn't sob. I couldn't make a sound. I just had to get into the living room.

As I approached the living room, I saw my daughter in-law's parents sitting on the couch. Her father was sitting there looking very stoic, and her mother was sobbing and hiccupping, clutching a roll of toilet paper, with many used pieces covering her lap. She jumped up and came to me and we hugged. We just stood there hugging for what felt like eternity, although in reality, I'm sure it wasn't more than a minute, if that. My son was sitting on the couch too. I went to him, and hugged him and he started to sob and wail. He then turned and flew up the stairs. I looked over, and there were 2 policemen standing guard, to make sure no one touched the baby, before the coroner arrived. Potential evidence, couldn't be tainted. I then turned and hugged my daughter in law, and she let out one tiny little cry then abruptly pulled away and said "I'm not going to cry. I have to be strong". I said "Baby, right now you don't have to be strong. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe this is happening". She said "No, I have to be strong for Matt and the other kids. I was at work. Matt's the one who found him and did cpr on him. I have to be strong".

I sat on that couch, and every minute felt like an hour. Straight in front of my face, laid a tiny little body covered by the whitest bath towel I think I'd ever seen. A tiny little body, that I had seen the face of, and one lone tiny ekg lead on, but not connected to anything anymore. It was too late. Baby Bentley wasn't coming back. It seemed, that my son wasn't coming back either. It had been what felt like forever since he ran up the stairs. I had figured that he just needed a minute to try to compose himself. I mean, how many times had he called me, begging for me to hurry and get there? Telling me he needed me. I'm here. Matt, hey, Mom's here now! I'm here for you but where are you? I'm sitting right here Matthew.

After what felt like forever, I quietly told everyone "I'm going to go check on Matthew". I got up and had to walk directly past my dead grandsons tiny little body. I walked past the 2 cops that were talking about a BBQ one of them had been to over the weekend. Really? A barbeque? You're standing guard over a dead babies body, and you're going to stand there giggling and talking about a barbecue. I went up the steps, and found my son sitting on the end of his bed, clutching a baby blanket to his face, rocking back and forth crying. He pointed to the bassinet beside us. He said "I came upstairs to check on him mom, and he was all the way up there. His head was all the way to the end of the bassinet. How can this happen Mom? How?". Oh my sweet son. I don't know how. I finally convinced him to come downstairs with me. He kept the blanket that had covered Bentley clutched in his hands. He sat on the couch holding that blanket with tears streaming down his face.

My step granddaughter had been at her fathers house. The front door busted open, and my granddaughter and her step mom came through the door. I watched my granddaughter glance at the lifeless towel then run to her mom and hug her and start to sob. Her other grandma then stood up and went to her and she hugged her and sobbed. The step mom, is a close personal friend of mine. I walked to the kitchen and the step mom followed. She told me how shocked she was to walk through the door and see the baby was still there. I agreed. I could not believe how long it was taking for the coroner to get there. It was close to 3 hours since I'd received the initial news of Bentley passing, and still no coroner. It literally blew my mind.

Step mom and I were whispering that we didn't think it was good, for my granddaughter to have seen her baby brother like that. She was 10. In a month, she would be 11 years old. The coroner finally came walking in the front door. He was carrying a small metal box, that looked like an oversized make up box. He stopped and said something to the policemen. At that point I started calling for my granddaughter and so did her step mom. We had decided we didn't think she should watch them put her baby brother into that box. She came to us sobbing, and we both grabbed her, hugging her, with her back to the living room and her face buried in our chests. That gave ME a full view of the coroner and baby Bentley. He was a taller, heavy set older man. All grey hair. Actually, it was white. It wasn't as white as the towel that covered my grandson, but it was white, not grey. He bent down on one knee. He removed the white towel from over Bentley. Then he opened that metal box. He scooped Bentley up and put him inside that box, then grabbed the towel and put it in the box too, in one fell swoop. In the same action of movement, he shut the lid of the metal box and then with both hands in the same motion, clicked those metal clasps shut. For some reason, THAT really affected me. I will never, in my lifetime, forget the loud sound of those metal latches snapping shut. The sound just echoed and vibrated throughout the home. I literally jumped at the sound, and winced. He then stood up and picked the box up by the handle on top of it. He turned to the police officers and was saying something to them with a smile on his face. As he stood there conversing and grinning talking to the policemen, he was lighting swinging the box back and forth.

I was INFURIATED. For some reason, my sadness turned to rage over that coroner. What in the hell did he think he was doing, standing there SWINGING the box back 'n forth like it was just a tool box or something! He seriously was grinning and giggling, shooting the shit with the police? I wanted more than anything to chase after him and yell "Who do you think you are? THAT is my GRANDSON that you're swinging around inside of that box! We're all sobbing and you're giggling and laughing?! Quit swinging my grandsons body around! Show a little respect!" but I didn't. I stood there holding my granddaughter while she sobbed, and tears silently ran down my cheeks. I literally wanted to chase after that guy though and tell him what an insensitive prick he was! I know, it's his job. He deals with death and dead bodies all day long. But to us, that isn't just another dead body. That is my sweet, innocent grandson that was just 3 months and 5 days old.

The following week was total blur to me. Two days after Bentley died, I had to go back to my sons house and babysit the other 6 children, while my son and daughter in law went to the funeral home to make arrangements for Bentley's service. Due to the events, it was recommended that he was cremated, and that a memorial service be held, instead of an actual funeral. I still was a zombie. I had to literally force myself out of my house. My daughter went with me, to help me with the children. I just mentally wasn't in a place that I could handle it alone. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Finally, they were back! My son carried in his hand, a copy of Bentley's obituary that he handed to me. They told me that they had finally been able to see and hold Bentley, and said that they now understood why a showing wouldn't be able to be done. They said his little body was quickly deteriorating. They were just rattling off details that I didn't need to hear. That I had absolutely had no desire to hear. Talking like it was an every day subject and regular conversation. They handled it very well. I'm ashamed to say, they were handling this better than I was. I was the mom. I was supposed to be the strong one. A task that I failed at.

Four days after baby Bentley passed away, my mom had a heart attack. See, when I was born, I was born 6 weeks early. I was supposed to be a Christmas baby, but believe me the universe did the right thing by bringing me into the world on November 18th. I fit a Scorpio to a tee! When I was 2 years old, my mom had another baby. A little girl. I guess she looked just like my dad, so my mom named her Jackie, after my dad who's nickname all of his life had been Jack. Jackie Lynn, was born way too early though. My mom was only five and a half month pregnant with her when she had her, and back in 1972 they didn't have all of the life saving equipment for premature babies. There were no NICU's. Jackie's lungs weren't fully developed, and she only lived for 4.5 hours. Bentley passing, brought all of those memories back to my mom.

It was around 6pm and I was sitting in my office, talking through DM with my daughter in law about Bentley's upcoming service which was in 3 days. Exactly one week after his passing. I heard my mom telling my dad that she was having pain in her chest and left shoulder, and pain was shooting down her arm. I thought "You HAVE to be kidding me!" I ran to the living room and confirmed what I had heard. I said "You're having a heart attack! Get your shoes on and your coat we have to go now!!". Luckily we only live about 4-5 minutes from a small local hospital. I ran back into my office, quickly typed to my daughter in law what was going on and said I had to go! As I was backing out of our driveway my phone started ringing and it was my son. He said that his wife had told him what was going on and he wanted to confirm it. I told him yes. He broke down in sobs again and said "Mom, hurry up and get her there! She can't die too. Mom, I can't handle losing Grandma on top of losing Bentley. Hurry mom, hurry!". I told him to calm down that everything would be ok, that I was on the way and would be there in minutes, and that I had to go and hung up on him.

As luck would have it ...because you know, we weren't having very good luck in our family, my mom WAS having a heart attack and was immediately admitted. From the minute she walked into that ER she told every doctor and every nurse she came into contact with that she didn't care what was happening, she had to be released to be at her great grandson's funeral on that upcoming Wednesday. The next day when a cardiologist came to see her and order some more testing she told him what was going on, and he promised her that even if worse came to worse he would allow us to pick her up and take her to Bentley's service, then we could bring her back. Well, some luck finally WAS on our side, because mom survived the heart attack and her tests came back good enough that she was fully released from the hospital the afternoon before Bentley's service.

I had already been in a depression over losing Bentley. What happened with my mom, just spiraled me downhill. I had to force myself to shower. I only could leave my house if it was for something I absolutely had to leave for. Even then, it took everything in me to walk out through that door. I couldn't stand the thought of facing everyday politeness out in the world. The cashier at the store smiling at me "Hi, how are you today?". Having to force a fake-assed smile onto my face and say "I'm great! How are you?" while inside I was withering away, slowly dying. Losing Bentley, realizing I could have lost my mom 4 days later, and that at my parents ages, any day could potentially be their last. I'm an only child, so when my parent's are gone, I'm all alone. My marriage ended 11.5 years ago and I haven't even had a boyfriend in that time period. -Oh! I DID have a creepy perverted stalker a few weeks ago though! That's another story for another time though. My children are all grown and gone, with families of their own. Everything just kept weighing on me, depressing me more and more.

After Bentley passed, I couldn't bring myself to look at any photos of him. Any time I had to access photos on my computer, I would fly past the "B's" as quickly as I could. I couldn't talk about him, without breaking down and crying. I couldn't bring myself, to tell his story. The story of a precious little boy that died suddenly of SIDS. Bentley was born about a month early, and he spent his first few weeks alive, in the NICU. He had been doing GREAT though, so his death came as a complete shock, out of the blue. January 11, 2022 I walked into a clinic and told them I needed help. I had to find a way to crawl back out of the dark hole I'd been trapped in for a month and a half. I had to find a way to see daylight again.

My doctor prescribed a medication, but on day 4 of it, I threw it into the trash can. The medication had a possible side effect of anxiety and suicidal thoughts. The night of day 3 on the medication, I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest. The anxiety was worse than I'd ever had. My instinct kept telling me I needed to rush to the ER, because of my hard, fast heart beat, but the medical person in me kept telling me "No, Amy. It's just a side effect from the medicine. You're fine. You don't need to go to the emergency department. It's just the meds". I made it through that night and the next morning instead of taking one, I threw the bottle away. I've never tried a medicine since, but I'm happy to say that I'm back to a place once again, where I'm happy to live my life. I can look at photo's of baby Bentley and I can talk about him. Of course it still makes me sad, and of course I still miss him. You hear about SIDS all the time, but you always think "Thank God that will never happen to my family". But guess what? It does happen. Out of the blue, it can happen to any family at any time.

This is the very first time that I have sat and told every single detail of that horrid, nightmare my family was faced with. I've done this, without crying so I have made major steps in the right direction. I still talk to baby Bentley. I still tell him how much Grandma loves him and misses him. It seems that every time I have to drive to and from the town he died in, emotions hit me. I end up talking to him out loud in the car and ask him to give me a sign that he's with me and that he's ok, and every single time I've done so, I've had a bird swoop down right in front of my windshield like it was going to HIT the windshield, then dart straight back up in the air. A lot of people would tell me that's just a coincidence. I chose to believe though, that it IS Bentley giving me a sign that he's with me and that he's ok. That he knows how much I loved him. He may have only been on this earth for a short time, but I would baby sit him almost every single day that he was with us. Sometimes, for 12-14 hours a day. I couldn't have loved that baby any more, if I had birthed him myself.

Bentley Robert, you were here a short time and Grandma isn't sure what the reasoning was for you leaving us so suddenly, but I know there is a reason. Was it maybe for Grandma to help bring awareness of SIDS to other families? You know what a huge advocator Grandma is on her blog, to find a cure for Fibromyalgia. Grandma also talks a lot on her blog about finding a cure for PCOS, which your Aunt Courtney has and is the number one cause of female infertility in the United States. So maybe it's supposed to be Grandma's mission for her to talk about you and you passing from SIDS, on her blog too and in stories such as this one. Whatever the reason you left us Bentley, Grandma Amy loves you and misses you more than words can say!

Whatever terrible thing you may face or be facing in your life, you can find your way out of it. Sometimes it feels like you're so deep in a hole, that you could never crawl back out. Don't give in to that. Seek help. Reach out to a friend. A relative. A complete stranger. Call a counselor. Walk into a clinic and ask for help like I did. Pick up your cell phone and dial 988. That will connect you to the suicide and crisis hotline, where help is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Just whatever you do, don't give up HOPE. I try my best to live my life according to the motto of my blog. "Never give up HOPE. Without HOPE, you don't have anything". That my friends, is one of the truest pieces of advice that I can ever give anyone. Never, EVER, give up HOPE.