Farewell, little Pat.

Patrick Praj Mullarky died today around 1:15 PM, in his parent's arms. He was 13 days old. He was loved deeply in his short time among us.

Shortly before Pat was conceived, his aunt had a dream that her recently deceased father, (Pat's grandfather - Khun Tar) was walking down a beach holding hands with a little boy. It's a thought I've liked since I first heard it: Khun Tar sent him to us. When we return to Thailand, we will scatter his ashes along the same beach Khun Tar's ashes were scattered. So Pat can go back to Khun Tar, and can tell him of his adventures here with us.

We had so many people help us out today. The hospital was incredibly kind and generous. They offered to help us collect various keepsakes, since in his short time we didn't have a chance to get any. They helped us collect a lock of hair, get hand and foot prints on some cards and ornaments, and made some casts of his hands and feet.

His skin was a mottled red and white. When I asked the nurse about it, she said you see it on people who have raging infections, or have some neurological problems or damage effecting control of the capillaries. Poor Pat. He was so mottled and looked very tired. We decided to proceed with no further delays, so Pat could be free to go onto his next adventure.

Then the nurses started to remove his IVs and washed him up. We helped with his hair. Finally, all he had left was his neck IV with his morphine, chest tubes (clamped and cut short) ,and the ECMO connectors to his heart. In the room we had my mother, father, sister, and Tammy.

They picked him up off the table, and put him in our laps. We were in a small love seat they had brought in last night, with pillows on our laps. We held him for about 15 minutes, telling him how much we loved him, how glad we were to have had him in our lives, and not to be afraid.

Then we told the nurse to turn off the ECMO machine. He died peacefully shortly thereafter.

Everyone had a chance to say goodbye in his last minutes. We held him for some time after he died - it was hard to let him go, even though he was already gone. The nurses put him back on the table, and began washing him up. I took a sharpie out and drew a small heart-shaped mark on the inside of his left heel - an identifying mark so that if he is reborn we can identify him. Then the nurses called in a surgeon to close him up: remove the ECMO cannula and chest tubes, and close his chest. We didn't stay in the room for that part.

When I was going back to the room to dress Pat for his trip to the Funeral Home, I ran into Dr. Cohen. He gave me his condolences, and told me that we should in no way blame ourselves. Heart defects are not caused by anything known - they seem to be a random occurrence across all populations. He said that worry that this would happen again should not stop us from having more children. I was very grateful to hear this - it was something that was tickling at my mind. I thanked him for everything he had done, and let him know that I considered the care he got to be probably the best in the world.

Back in his room, Pat's color had returned to what it was when he was first born, and he looked more peaceful than he had for days. He was clean, and his chest had been closed. Except for bandages on his chest, you almost couldn't tell what a trial his poor body had been through. We dressed him in a puppy-dog jumper his grandmother had bought him, with a matching hat. It was very cute.

We didn't know what to expect in bringing Pat to the funeral home, but I didn't expect to carry him on my shoulder like he was asleep for over an hour. I offered Pui a chance to carry him, but she said she had carried him for 9 months, it was my turn to carry him awhile. It was very bittersweet. I got to carry and cuddle my baby boy ... but he was dead. It was so hard to think of him as not alive. He felt like my sweet little son in my arms. And in a way he was.

Pui's friends - Muek and Mew - were amazingly helpful all along. They contacted a Monk, and got him to meet us at the funeral home just a few hours later. The ceremony was small, but beautiful. Muek and Mew, their son and Khun Yai were there, as was Peter Luton, My sister Katy and her husband Rick, Tammy, my niece Ysabel and nephew Rob, and my parents.

Pat was swaddled in a blanket and comforter, in a large wicker flower basket set on a central table, with the small Buddha locket Elle gave him. That was where I last saw my son, as we left after the ceremony. He will be kept safe at the funeral home until Saturday, when we will meet the Monk at the crematorium to cremate Pat.

Once home, I found the video camera and managed to transfer all our video of Pat - all 25 minutes of it - to the computer. We watched them through. In the next few days I'll try to make a small mpeg or three of the best moments. I also have probably a thousand pictures of Pat's time with us - I plan to make a few Flickr sets of the best ones.

And now what I hope is the hardest day of my life draws to a close. If you have children, hold them dear while you have them. They are not ours to keep, but the memories we have of our time with them is.

We will have a memorial service for Pat on Sunday, that will be open to all. It will be 3:00 PM at Eastshore Unitarian Church, in Bellevue WA. Everyone is welcome. Please, no flowers or gifts - make donations to Children's Hospital instead.