Coping with the loss of my 11-year-old son
The author with her son Noel at London's Royal Brompton Hospital in October 2016 just before he underwent an operation.
I married at age 27 and became a mother of three by the age of 34.
Tragically, in June 2017, I lost my eldest son Noel from a sudden illness at the age of 11.
I want to share my painful journey coming to terms with his passing in the hope that this will be of some value to other parents.
A cheerful and bubbly boy who loved his toys, Noel had always been prone to falling sick since birth. At six weeks, he was hospitalised for lactose intolerance complications.
But nothing quite prepared us for the news on Oct 11, 2016 when tests following a bout of high fever found that he had contracted infective endocarditis, a serious and rare heart infection affecting only 1 in 100,000.
Overwhelmed by anxiety, I sobbed uncontrollably when I heard the news.
Two days later, Noel’s heart suddenly stopped beating. Thankfully, doctors resuscitated him.
I then took his cardiologist’s advice to immediately send Noel to London where doctors could replace his heart valve and attach an external pacemaker to regulate his heartbeat.
The six-hour operation on Oct 15 was a success, but not before I cried my eyes out and prayed non-stop.
After a month in London, Noel’s condition finally stabilised and he was able to fly back to Singapore to seek treatment for his failing kidneys. By then, Noel had also sorely missed his two siblings.
Back in Singapore, Noel’s kidney functionality gradually improved. But the relief was short-lived as the operation wound on his chest became infected.
The wound was then reopened to treat the infection, but the wound cleaning often left him screaming in pain. It was heart-wrenching to witness the suffering of my 10-year-old son.
Noel was well enough to be discharged from the hospital on Jan 11, 2017. We normalised Noel’s life as much as possible.
He resumed his piano lessons, often playing his favourite classical pieces and even self-studied to prepare for the coming mid-year exams despite missing out on six months of school. Everything seemed to be back to normal.
But he soon fell ill again, frequently vomiting and having recurring chest pains.
On June 12, he was back at the hospital and we were told that the infection was back. A heart scan was scheduled for the following day.
The next day, my phone rang at 11.45am. I remember those words vividly: “Make your way to the ICU as soon as you can”. My heart sank immediately and I was trembling with fear.
When I reached the hospital, Noel was lying motionless in the ICU. Doctors said he had suffered a septic shock and there was insufficient oxygen going to his brain. In short, he was already brain dead.
My mind went blank. My heart broke into a thousand pieces. “Where is my son? Please bring him back!” I kept crying.
I whispered into Noel’s ear and told him many times over how much I love him. His father and I then made the most painful decision to pull the plug on the life support.
The next 30 minutes were the most unbearable moments of my life. I was in the cold empty ward holding my precious son till he took his final breath.
THE GRIEVING
For days thereafter, the immense grief of losing Noel was too much to bear. All I felt was numbness and emptiness.
Over the next few months, painful memories and images of Noel’s death haunted me almost every moment of the day, sapping most of my energy.
I hardly slept, I lost all appetite for food and lost 8kg in two months.
I felt angry with myself and those around me whom I thought were responsible for Noel’s death. I slumped into deep depression.
To cope with the pain, I avoided places and memories that reminded me of Noel.
This went on for almost six months. Over time, the pain subsided gradually and I told myself I have to be strong as I have two living children who still need their mother. Nevaeh was 8 and Noah was 6 when Noel died.
They too struggled to cope with the loss of their older brother. As a mother, their well-being was my responsibility. Nevaeh and Noah gave me hope to live.
Slowly, I convinced myself that it is okay to be happy again without feeling guilty. I began to organise more fun activities for Nevaeh and Noah, including going to the movies, theme parks and having meals at their favourite places.
I felt avoidance would only impede my family from moving forward. So, we visited places Noel frequented as though nothing had changed and openly shared those happy and fond memories when he was there.
I also began writing a daily journal. The first paragraph was extremely difficult — the first words “my son” and “death” almost always brought tears to my eyes.
But as I kept writing, with each passing day, the words flowed more easily. My journal soon became an outlet to pour out my sorrow.
It helped me find a new peace and feel the joy I once had when Noel was alive. From time to time, I would read back entries I made and would realise how remarkable that I had survived another day, another week, another month.
Over time, I became stronger emotionally. This June marks the second anniversary of Noel’s death.
They say that time heals all wounds. I am not so sure about this.
But I am sure Noel’s death has taught me to love harder and appreciate every single day. He was a unique boy who had so much love and care for others.
I want to honour Noel by healing and he would not want it any other way.
The pain of losing him in my arms may never go away. But because I am blessed with a very close-knit family and many good friends giving me lots of emotional support and more importantly, because I have inherited Noel’s legacy to always stay positive and brave, I am still standing strong today.
I hope my sharing here will encourage grieving parents who experience similar losses of their children to stay strong and to find strength to move on with life.
Life is unpredictable, but there are always moments of joy, love and blessings that we should appreciate and cherish.
I have created a Facebook page for those who wish to come forward to share their memories of their children and their own personal struggle to overcome their loss.
Hopefully, we can find comfort in unity.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Selina Lee is self-employed in the education industry. Since her son died in 2017, she has also separated from her husband and battled late-stage stomach cancer.
