What was that noise?

A thud in the night awakens my sleep, another thud I hear, it sounds rather deep.

I wait for a moment and listen some more, then I get up and go, straight to your door.

No fear, no worry, as I enter your room, why in the world did I hear such a weird boom?

You’re there on the floor, next to your bed, you good, you okay, did you hit your head?

You look up and in a way, those eyes I’ve not seen, the fear in them is-something out of a dream.

I say your name, with so much question in mind, what happened, what’s wrong, what’s going on this time?

I help you lay down, to rest your head, you start to seize right there, there in your bed.

I asked you my name, how dumb can I be, but you said it, you knew it, that’s a good sign to me.

The slurred name that enters your lips, is mine, in a way I’ve never heard, and it took you some time.

He runs in your room when he heard me yell, “breathe, please breathe“, and says “what the hell!“

He grabs you and holds you, you seize in his arms, I call 911, we’re extremely alarmed.

I left the room to call for help, frantic and confused like it’s somebody else.

I hear your dad yelling, “breathe sweetie breathe”, again and again it’s his constant plea.

Son, “I need you” I yelled to him, down the stairs. The look on his face, let me know he was scared.

I told him, “get the boys, take them away, they don’t need to see her, to see her this way.“

The man on the phone wanted to know, “is she breathing?” If she’s breathing does that mean there’s hope?

I went back in your room, to confirm you’re alive, please be, please be, please just survive.

Wait there’s a bottle next to her bed, it’s a bottle, it‘s empty of all of her meds.

Think fast, think fast, no faster than that, how many were left, just do the damn math.

In an instant her plea from weeks before, came into my mind like a slamming door.

”I will take my meds, like I need to each day, let me earn your trust back, don’t take them away.”

The words she‘d said, rang in my head, holy shit, no way, she took a month worth of meds.

30 pills gone, is that what that means, my daughter took 30 pills to make her feel free.

She hates taking pills, and can’t get them down, was she really that sad, that-that didn’t matter now.

The man on the phone, was still there as I thought, this can’t be what happened most definitely not!

My voice began to crack, as I begged, please get them here now, are they on the way?

“Yes, ma’am, they are, they’ll be there soon. Just stay with me, by the way, is she turning blue?”

Please, dear God, what can we do, over and over we plead, this just can’t be true.

The front door is open, it’s raining outside, I see them now, I’ll just rush them inside.

They're moving so slow, is the thought in my head, by the time they get in here she’ll already be dead.

Oh wait, they’re moving as fast as they can, so many things they have in each hand.

They move methodically to assess the scene, “what happened“ they ask as you seize in between.

She took 30 pills, she wanted to die, please help her, help her, help save her life.

Time stood still as far as I felt, but I know it takes time to administer help.

They tried to help, though completely in vain, you seized and you thrashed every bit, the same.

God, please help her, you’re the only one who can, please hold our baby in the palm of your hand.

Was she sad, was she mad, had we pushed her too hard, it looks like now, she’s showing her cards.

They called ahead to get help for you, she’s coming, she’s coding, she’s turning blue.

I ran back in and just stood frozen in time, my mind wouldn’t work, I couldn’t tell why.

I needed to grab things, but only a few, after all we’d all be home, in only a day or two.

Pacing and pacing just trying to think, they’re leaving now, what in the hell do I need.

Charges, and clothing, glasses, and crackers, do any of these things really even matter.

I was lost in my own house, while dad rode along, “son come help me, I am taking way too long.“

“This is bad“ I told him, “what will we do?” I can’t say the words but he already knew.

“I know, mom” he said and hugged me so tight, ”now get out of here, hurry up, get to her side!”

“You've got the boys? Don’t let them be scared, just tell them she seized, and leave hope in the air.“

They’ve had so much loss in their young little lives, this will destroy them, if she really dies.

It’s 4:00 am now, who the hell do I call? I‘m driving, I’m speeding, don’t hit the damn wall.

What did the officer say when he left, an overdose, stages, and sometimes death.

Wait, what? I must have heard him wrong, did I block it, or imagine it, or was that in a song.

No, those were his words, I remember somehow, they were unclear before, but I hear them now.

His eyes told a secret he didn’t want shared, he was worried, and anxious and I’d even say scared.

Does he know, what I know, deep down inside, it’s bad, really bad, I begin to cry.

I called my sister wanting help to be tough, that did the opposite, boy was that rough.

“I don’t need you, don’t come, I was just letting you know, I can do this, I’ve got this, now I’ve got to go.”

I was tough, I can do this, remember the line, “Robertson’s do hard things”- all of the time.

I believed and I meant, every word that I said.....and then I arrived and you were already.......dead.

They let me go back and pointed that way, why he’s crying, and rocking and swaying that way.

I turned the corner to realize just what he saw, they’re pushing your chest and cutting your bra.

How do I watch, or look away, there is no right answer, when life is taken away.

I grab his arms, turn him away, don’t watch this, don’t look, don’t see her this way.

He’s swaying, he’s pale, he’s going to fall, grab his arm, get a chair, please, take him down the hall.

They unlock a door and let us go in, where are we, what is this, is this where it ends.

A knock from the door, the one at the end, I open it and find, my sweet sister, my friend.

We waited and cried as more people appeared, who called them, who told them, why are they here?

Thank God, they are here, we’ll need everyone. The doors opening, it’s time, they’re going to tell us it’s done.

Done trying, done working, they’ve done their best, they’re sorry, they hate this, they never get rest.

The doctor comes in, sits down in his chair, I can’t read his face, his words just hang in the air.

“There’s a pulse, it’s faint, we’ve moved her upstairs, ICU for pediatrics, try not to be scared.“

The doctor goes with us, as he gently explains, your daughter’s alive, but its anyone’s guess how long her brain went without one single breath.

“She’s the sickest patient I have here right now”, is left in the air, as we keep walking somehow.

We’ve made it upstairs and just sit and wait, she’s coding again, I can hear them say.

Please sign this-she needs this, it’s the only way, E.C.M.O. is needed, but she may still lose her leg.

Do what you have to, don’t hesitate, at all, we support you and trust you and now it’s your call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-to be continued.