"Kamdyn's Story"

"Prayers, Please - Epilogue"

November 12, 2018

Kamdyn

I told you his story last week but did not give you his name.  I wanted to protect them in the midst of social media abuses.  His family thinks that it is important you to know his name, and they want that his story be told.  In his short life he touched many lives.  So, allow me to tell the story of a too short life.  But first, it is important that you know his name was Kamdyn.

Day One

Kamdyn was born at 4:36 PM Central Time in a small town in Tennessee.  His first night was not like others  - spent with his mom and dad in the serene comfort of a maternity ward's carefully designed room.  No, Kamdyn was rushed by ambulance to another city, Mom was left behind to recuperate from surgery, to weep and to worry about the life of her newborn son who could not breathe on his own.  Friends shuttled his father to the university hospital, to begin the long wait and to himself ponder the fate of his son.  His extended family had yet to touch him, or even to gaze on him from the room outside the nursery through a plate glass window.  The family's visitors were not invited to look through a plate glass window and told, "Look!  That one is mine."  Instead, visitors came to pray and share that a family's horror would return to what it should be at birth - hopes and dreams for a future.

Day One - NICU

The morning began with grim realization.  The drama of Kamdyn's birth was not limited to his inability to breathe on his own.  Tests indicated he had little brain activity.  This meant there had been some trauma to the brain before, or during, birth.  The good news was that he had a strong heartbeat, and most body functions were normal.  Even his ability to breathe was improving.  The greatest issue was the EKG.  A glimmer, just a glimmer mind you, was a technique to stimulate the brain - a cooling blanket.  Cool his body down in order to kick-start the brain.  The problem - again with the problems - was that this technique worked if started within the first six hours of life it had now been eighteen.  By this time his mom had been released from her hospital and she joined Kamdyn's dad as his first 24 hours drew to a close.

Day Two

The morning of Kamdyn's second day began with hopes that 72 hours under the cooling blanket would bring about the desired results.  There were some good signs.  Kamdyn had begun to move, and his breathing had improved to the point they had removed one ventilator and the other was reduced in its assist.  Maybe, just maybe, there was hope.  I wrote the first blog telling Kamdyn's story and asking for prayer.  It was shared on social media and others shared, who in turn shared.  The blog was shared some one hundred times and was read by thousands.  Kamdyn never spoke a word, never hit a baseball, never kissed a teen girl at a dance, and never preached a sermon, but already his life touched thousands.

Day Four

The family had been in and out of the NICU for days now.  They would wait until called back in shifts to see him.  Only immediate family were allowed this great gift.  The real issue was the sacrifice involved.  The bills were yet to come from all the dozens and dozens of medical entities involved.  I would guess that Kamdyn's ambulance bill alone will be in the thousands.  But the sacrifices had already begun.  Work was put on hold.  Gas tanks were drained as family drove the hour and half commute to and from Knoxville.  Others bit the bullet and tried to get affordable hotel rooms in an area which typically goes for $300 a night.

Kamdyn was giving them hope though.  It was time for the cooling blanket to be removed and for his body to be warmed to normal.  He had a bowel movement and had urinated.  His arms had moved, and he had even rolled his arms.  The doctor began to wonder if the issue was asphyxia after all - perhaps this was due to a brain bleed.  If true, this would be good news compared to permanent and irreversible brain damage.  An ultrasound was scheduled.

Day Five

The family gathered once again in the NICU waiting room.  Others were making the long commute for the same reasons; support, family, prayers, Kamdyn and, of course - to get the doctor's report on the results of the ultrasound.  Exhaustion had set in days earlier.  The effects of shock still evident in their eyes.  Kamdyn's parents were gathered as well.  A playfulness had returned to some as they compensated for the stress.  Tears came as well, and predictable woulda, coulda, shoulda all humans subject themselves to in such times.  I think God must weep in such times as well as He watches this continuing punishment we inflict upon ourselves needlessly.  He tells us in the Bible that He awaits the day He will wipe away the tears of those endure through faith in Jesus.  Until that time we will punish ourselves for not changing what we are powerless to change.

The doctor came and said she was going back to see Kamdyn.  There was a tension in her shoulders, and a stiffness to her walk.  These signs did not bode well.  Those who could followed her back to Kamdyn in his room.

It was not long before the door flung open, and the family members finally emerged.  The first two had to leave the building for fresh air, the oldest sobbing.  No explanation was necessary.  Finally, a grandfather emerged and reported the doctor had informed them of the unthinkable - there was nothing more they could do.  The diagnosis was permanent and irreversible brain damage.  There was no brain activity.  Arrangements were made for family members from other states to come.

Day Six

The social worker was poised for action.  A room was prepared in the NICU for all to wait.  The hospital provided a cart of fruit, snacks and drinks for the family.  They kept it replenished.  The photographer was also summoned to take pictures of Kamdyn.  Members of the family could now hold him, though the wires, tubes and ventilator made it a cumbersome process.  a pillow was placed on each lap as they sat beside his cart, and Kamdyn was carefully placed on the pillow.  More tears, yet the cell phones emerged to take dozens of pictures.  No one dared say it, there were hints in the way things were said, but all knew they were saying goodbye.  The nurses were phenomenal - all nurses are, but it takes a special breed to man the NICU. 

It was a long day, and as the sun set marking the beginning of Kamdyn's sixth 24 hours, and we prayed before I made the commute home.

I arrived at the NICU just a few hours before the end of Kamdyn's sixth day.  His oxygen levels had plummeted and there was no longer any reason to leave him connected to the ventilator, it was useless, but it was a blessing in another way.  For the first time in his short life Kamdyn could be held by his loved ones unencumbered by tubes, and wires and machines.  They invited me in for an intimate moment.  We prayed one last time.  For the first time I could see him without a pane of glass, or Plexiglas between us.

They held him, they took yet more pictures and everything seemed normal, a grandfather holding his grandson high to get a good look at him.  Grandma, aunt and others taking a picture of this magic moment.  Normal, except that it was happening in the NICU and the baby was dying.

I left the room and walked out to the garden courtyard designed for the purpose.  No stranger to such drama, still - I needed the respite, a cup of horrible hospital coffee, fresh air and prayer.  The fifth floor garden is perfect for just such moments.  Ironically, the university band began to play their familiar "Rocky Top" song to mark the beginning of the game against Kentucky.  The stadium is but a short walk from the hospital, and the crisp air carried the sounds of the stadium easily to my sanctuary retreat.  Tennessee would be victorious over Kentucky.  Shortly after their victory would be celebrated, Kamdyn's struggle would end.  Kamdyn's sixth day ended before either took place.

Day Seven

Kamdyn fought for life into his seventh day.  Born at 4:36 PM central time, he took his final breath at about 9:30 PM eastern time.  The human body is a magnificently designed machine.  It is incredible in its complexity and endurance.  Yet it bears the flaw inherent to all of mankind. It is the lot of man to be born and to die.  Yet, we expect a greater pause between the two.  Life, as we know it, is meant to be measured in seven decades, not in seven days.  We do not plan for birth, and in the same week a funeral.  In the intervening years, we expect a progression from infant to toddler, then child, teenager, adulthood, love marriage birth of children, aging of parents, death of parents and finally we prepare for our own death.  Parents plan that their children bury them, not that they bury their children.  Yet it does not always go as planned.  You were asked to pray in the intro to Kamdyn's story.

Epilogue

In this epilogue, I ask your continued prayers, and a bit more.  I ask that you give to help Kamdyn's parents bear the burden of the unplanned.  The original blog was read by some 6,000 people and shared dozens of times.  Share again, pray again, and if you are able to sacrifice give.  If just a portion of the folk (1,000) who first read his story were to give just $10.00 each, their goal would be met.

Baby Kamdyn Help Fund: Click Here