Breeze from the West, to Hell and Heaven
Miracles do happen and no one has any idea what they’re doing
Zephyr, the Greek God of Wind, was known for being a gentle, tender breeze and signifying the return of spring after a difficult winter. Zephyr the baby, has been known for his happy demeanor, high spirits and his will to survive.
The past few weeks have been the most difficult of my life. On 19 October, Zephyr stopped breathing while we were having lunch with friends. Fortune was smiling on us as my friend Charlie, an intensive care nurse, was sitting next to me and immediately performed CPR. Undoubtedly saving his life. The air ambulance team arrived in under twelve minutes and little Zephyr was in the best possible care.
After ten days of parental agony in pediatric intensive care at Cardiff Heath Hospital, the consultants – who had done wonderfully to save Zephyr in the first place –- delivered a massive blow. They told us that following his prolonged loss of oxygen, he would have no chance of survival and urged us to withdraw life support, giving him a gentle, tender death. We deliberated for a few days, seeking second opinions and hoping for a miracle, but doctors insisted none would arrive. At midnight on Halloween we withdrew life support, anticipating that Zephyr would drift over into the other side in the early hours of 1 November, and his happy soul would forever come back to us on All Saints Day.
Little Zephyr had another plan. He decided now was not his time and, day by day, he became stronger and stronger off the ventilator, confounding the consultants and delighting us as parents. Almost two weeks later he is breathing strongly, has regained the weight he lost and is looking more like his former self; moving lots and responding to us. We have moved from Cardiff to Cambridge and the neurologists here are excited to help us on the path of recovery. They have no idea what his future will be like, but from what he’s shown us so far it will be bright and full of joy.
Zephyr’s dance with death has been heart-wrenching, but it has been the greatest lesson of my life. It has taught me to surrender to the process and to have total faith in what I see in front of me, rather than the opinions of others. What has helped greatly is that neither me and Dan are scientists. As writers and journalists, we believe more in fantasy and fiction, rather than cold, hard rational facts. While the doctors struggled to believe how Zephyr has bounced back, it has been easier for us to comprehend as it’s part of our fantastical journey on this earth.
The neurology team here at Cambridge have admitted that no one really understands the complexity of the human brain, much less baby brains, and as clinicians they’re terrible at prognosis. It’s up to Zephyr to determine his path forward and he has to show us the way, they concluded. Even if they did know his future, would it be sensible to tell us?
The palliative care consultant in Cardiff told us that knowing the future would do much more harm than good and I’m inclined to agree. As someone who has a closer relationship to death, life and the spaces in between than almost anyone else, his abandonment in reason and surrender to fate is refreshing. Life is meant to be full of unexpected twists and turns and I hope Zephyr can keep on his miraculous recovery.
