What we Thought was a Simple Procedure Ended with the Loss of our Sweet Boy

Slide tracheoplasty is a surgical procedure that is used to treat tracheal stenosis, which is a narrowing of the trachea that can cause breathing difficulties.  During the slide tracheoplasty procedure, the narrowed section of the trachea is first identified through imaging studies and a  bronchoscopy. An incision is then made in the front of the trachea, and the narrowed section of the trachea is dissected and mobilized. The segment of the trachea above and below the narrowed section is then cut, and the narrowed section is moved forward to create a larger diameter. The cut ends of the trachea are then reconnected, usually with sutures, to create a wider, more open airway. When Cole was only 4lbs and three months old, he had this surgery due to failed attempts being intubated with a 2.0MM premature tube. During this procedure Cole was put on cardiopulmonary bypass. Cardiopulmonary bypass (CPB) is a medical procedure used during certain surgeries, such as open-heart surgeries, to temporarily take over the function of the heart and lungs. CPB involves diverting the patient’s blood through a machine that oxygenates the blood and pumps it back into the patient’s body. This allows the heart and lungs to be temporarily stopped so that surgical procedures can be performed on them without interrupting blood flow to the rest of the body. This was twelve hours that felt like days and I was a complete nervous wreck the entire time. The thought of my newborn baby requiring all of this was incredibly surreal and I’ve never felt so helpless. My job during this time was to sit and wait, not problem solve or help with a resolution. The main goal of this surgery was to double the width of his airway to enable  Cole to breathe without a tracheostomy post this procedure, which did not work as planned. The twenty-six days without a tracheostomy was horrendous with constant reintubation and it’s a month that I try to forget but it will, most likely, haunt me forever. What Cole went through during these four weeks is not fair, but it’s all hindsight and we would’ve never known if we didn’t try. His airway was so small, the tracheostomy they placed at three days old was the smallest tracheostomy made to fit in his tiny and narrow anatomy. After 26 days of failed attempts to extubate, allowing Cole to breathe on his own, they surgically put a 2.5 neonatal tracheostomy back in his neck.

The reason the slide tracheoplasty is so important to understand prior to digesting the latest and greatest obstacles Cole must overcome, is to have a good understanding of how much this surgery changed his anatomy. Cole was born with a very different and unique anatomy to begin with, changing it and making it even more unique has several complications. Mark and I could have never anticipated the potential complications that could occur with these changes.

March 2023, prior to one of Cole’s rod lengthening for his scoliosis, we had a CT with Contrast to find answers for why Cole has been having a harder time staying healthy and maintaining his oxygen levels. The results showed some incredibly terrifying things that I’m not totally sure I understand. We have an appointment with several Doctors in Cincinnati April 11th, but until then here is what I think I know. His left lung is almost completely collapsed or compressed. The left main bronchus is a large airway that branches off from the trachea and leads to the left lung. When it becomes nearly completely collapsed, it can cause significant breathing difficulties and other symptoms. The cause of this seems to be the compression of the left main bronchus by nearby structures such as the blockage or narrowing of the left upper lobe bronchi, which is causing the more distal, left lower lobe segmental bronchi to expand. When the upper lobe bronchi are narrowed, it can lead to difficulty breathing, coughing, and chest pain. The expansion of the lower lobe bronchi may be a compensatory response to try to increase air flow to that area of the lung. The scan also revealed that there is aortic tracheal compression.

Aortic tracheal compression is a condition in which the aorta, which is the largest artery in the body, presses against the trachea, the windpipe that carries air from the nose and mouth to the lungs. This compression can cause a narrowing of the trachea, making it more difficult for air to pass through. Symptoms can include shortness of breath, coughing, wheezing, and chest pain. In severe cases, it can lead to respiratory failure. Aortic tracheal compression can occur due to a number of different factors, including an enlarged aorta, tumors in the chest, or abnormalities in the shape or structure of the trachea. Cole doesn’t have an enlarged aorta or a tumor so that leaves me to believe that this could be related to the shape and structure of his trachea which was manipulated due to the slide tracheoplasty. The other thought I have, which seems to correlate with the start of these symptoms, is his rod surgery for his scoliosis. I’m not absolutely positive that either of these are the reasoning, but I’m certain the compression is not congenital. We have had several surgeries to help Cole breath better and almost all have failed. This is why his surgeons recommended at one of his last scopes of his upper and lower airway to get a CT with contrast. His pulmonologist specifically stated, in rare cases, when we try multiple surgeries and it doesn’t work the aorta could be crushing the trachea. I won’t ever forget that day because I was devastated and that was one of the first times that I received the news solo. We had brought Lexi with us and due to Covid restrictions, Mark and Lexi were waiting outside. The Nurse Practitioner, Michelle, that has known our family for many years stayed back after the surgeons delivered this terrifying news then walked out to do their next surgery. She looked at me and immediately gave me a huge hug, not sure if she has a sixth sense or if it was just that obvious that I was shattered. She asked if there was anything she could do and all I could think of to ask was for her to call my husband with me to explain the medical jargon of what could be transpiring with Cole. That 5 1/2 hour drive home was more difficult than others. There was no talking about what we just learned due to having Lexi in the car and not wanting her to hear us talking and how upset we were because it would only make it worse for her. A few weeks later we scheduled a CT with contrast, drove over five hours and waited several hours for kidney clearance. Long story short, Cole was losing patience and so was I, me probably more than him. We ended up making the decision to leave the hospital and not continue waiting because we didn’t even know if we would get the clearance the same day or not. I am not someone that allows myself to live in regret, I make mistakes, I learn from them, and I move on. This one feels different! The guilt that comes with this regret is one that I’m struggling with just moving past. It’s hindsight, but the last (almost) year Cole has really had a hard time breathing, now that’s not new but just seemed to progressively get worse. His baseline oxygen levels used to be 92 and the last year it has been hovering around 88 to 89. The heaviest guilt I feel is from pushing him to walk. For his entire life I’ve pushed him to get him to do things that Doctors thought were never possible. Cole will walk for a short amount of time and ask to be picked up or be pushed in a wagon. I would push him and encourage him to walk more, walk faster, and walk longer. I guess without seeing his internal anatomy and clearly having no clue what was going on inside of his little body, I wanted him to keep building his stamina. My thought was the more I push him, the further he will go. Now we know, it’s not a matter of building stamina, it’s his aorta and potentially other structures crushing his trachea and causing him even more trouble to breath. For a child that has never had a reserve, it’s simply a miracle that he’s dealt with this as long as he has. The best part about Cole is his attitude, always smiling and happy. The next step is surgery performed by a cardiothoracic surgeon, who specializes in surgery of the heart, lungs, and chest, or a vascular surgeon, who specializes in surgery of the blood vessels. Another surgery!

My little hero has literally been under anesthesia hundreds of times and I’ve managed to hold it all together, think positive, and make the absolute best of it. This surgery will be no different because that’s the attitude and mindset our family requires to keep it all together. I started compiling a list of questions and I’ve got approximately sixty, at this point. Some I may not ask, but it helps me to write them down. One example, is why didn’t the Doctors tell us post his slide tracheoplasty that the restructuring of the trachea could result in aortic compression? I know for a fact this is not the first time Doctors have seen this happen. The only reason we did the CT with contrast was based on the recommendations of his surgeons to check for aortic compression so they must have seen this before. On the other hand, after extensive research, I’ve found numerous articles (mostly Boston Children’s) that have completed the aortic arch surgery for children. It’s always hindsight, but we’ve allowed Cole for years now to truly struggle and all of his organs work harder then they should have to. In fact, his kidney function, which he only has one and it’s never been 100% has gotten worse and it all makes perfect sense now. The most important job I have is being a Mother. Loving, advocating, and protecting my children. In this particular situation I truly feel like I failed him. There were so many signs such as his respiratory rate being 120, which is equivalent to a child his age running a marathon. His oxygen baseline dropping. The increase and thickness of secretions. His cough that just won’t seem to go away. His sicknesses lasting longer and never quite going away. The dependency on the ventilator increasing. It’s so hard with Cole because his attitude is so awesome and he perseveres through everything that he keeps going to school and doing everything so I assumed it could not be that bad.

We go to our April 11th appt with his pulmonologist in Cincinnati. It was not as consultative as I would’ve hoped. It almost seemed as if she was reviewing the CT with contrast for the first time and no other Doctors or surgeons were present. She explained Cole’s Pulmonary artery was enlarged/bulging and we would need to hospitalize Cole for additional preliminary testing prior to surgery. The tests required would be EKG, echocardiogram, sleep study, blood gas, and microlaryngoscopy bronchscopy (MLB) which is a fancy way to say an upper and lower scope of his airway. Cole wasn’t a big fan of spending the night because he never wants to stay there, just have his procedures and go home. He always needs to understand the entire schedule to ensure he agrees with the order and there aren’t any surprises.

EKG results showed sinus tachycardia a type of arrhythmia, or irregular heartbeat, in which the heart beats faster than normal while maintaining a regular rhythm. Ventricular hypertrophy, on the other hand, is a thickening of the walls of the heart’s ventricles, which are the lower chambers that pump blood out of the heart.

After the MLB the surgeons pulled me into a room, this time with his Grandma Joy because Cole wanted her to join us for Cincinnati since Daddy was working. We learned that the procedure, most likely, is called a descending aortapexy and a thoracic surgeon would need to perform the surgery. Next step is to speak with a thoracic surgeon. His otolaryngologist told us they got a jar full of secretions and were able to turn it upside down and due to the stickiness the secretions didn’t move. We know exactly what he is talking about because Cole has been battling thick and copious secretions for over six months now and he’s been on 5 different rounds of antibiotics. Due to his left bronchi and lung being completely collapsed, it’s creating a space where the secretions continue being produced by his body with no where to escape which causes continuous infection. I was really thinking since they were able to get so many secretions out, he would have had a better time breathing… At least temporarily, but that was not the case. I reached out to the thoracic surgeon several times before finally getting a call back that asked me to come back to Cincinnati for a consultative appointment Monday May 8th, almost two weeks out. I insist that they have all of the necessary preliminary tests and actually seeing Cole clinically is not only unnecessary, but at this time it is extremely dangerous because Cole can not sustain breathing without ventilator and oxygen support. Now the truth is there are many children that are completely ventilator and oxygen dependent, but my job is to advocate and push for the best care for my boy.  Reluctantly, they agree to have a phone consultation. Mark and I get on a three way with the thoracic surgeon and he explains that he’s not entirely sure what surgery Cole requires at this time. It seems that the innominate artery is compressing his trachea and esophagus and this is a different surgery than the aortapexy. He also explains that most children can have this laparoscopically, but due to Cole’s anatomy and complexity he would require a thoracotomy. A thoracotomy is a surgical procedure that involves making an incision through the chest wall to gain access to the organs and structures within the thoracic cavity. The thoracic cavity is the space within the chest that contains the heart, lungs, and other vital organs. He also explains that due to Cole’s complex anatomy he would present Cole’s case to the cardiologist team and after all surgeons have discussed the best plan for Cole, he would call me. After days of no callback, I follow up again. In fact, I follow up several times before finally days later, his otolaryngologist calls to explain next steps. I immediately get Mark on the line with me and the surgeon begins talking. He explains we are going to try something different with Cole, kind of like a proof of concept. We are going to put him under anesthesia and implant a stent in his left bronchi to see if this gets his left lung working. Wait?! What?! Is it possible that his left lung doesn’t work? Yes, it’s very possible and before we do a thoracotomy and address the vascular issues, it’s important for us to know about the left lung because if it doesn’t function we need to remove it. He also explains his personal schedule which involves being out of the country starting late next week and not returning back to the office until the first week in June. The Doctor explains this procedure will be easy for Cole because he has had hundreds of scopes. It will be challenging for him because he needs to find the right length and width of the stent.  I inquire about a potential collegue in the event that Cole needs something in his absence. He simply responds, there is not one of his colleagues that could or would operate on Cole. We finish the conversation with getting Cole on the schedule for operation next Wednesday May 10th for placement of the stent. A stent is a small, mesh-like tube that can be used to hold open a narrow or collapsed airway in the lungs. When the airways in the lungs become narrow or blocked, it can make it difficult to breathe. This can occur for a number of reasons, it seems to be from the vascular compression in Cole’s case. I’m not sure if it’s because I simply don’t have a medical background and truly don’t understand the anatomy, but I promise you I was caught totally off guard. I had no clue that the left lung not functioning and potentially needing to be removed was even an option. There’s this feeling I get that I never experienced (prior to having Cole) where it’s a gut wrenching feeling that seems to take my breathe away. I’m not sure if it’s a feeling of having zero control over a situation or having no real solution for how to solve something. Nonetheless, I just seriously want to curl up and bawl my eyes out. However, that will do absolutely nothing and it’s important I keep it all together so we make the best decision possible and keep the right mindset. Mark and I convince ourselves that this is the right next step and we just need his left lung to work and Cole one step closer to breathing better. In every situation with this little guy, we’ve managed to somehow see the silver lining. In this particular case, we’ve gotten confirmation that when he does have the vascular compression addressed, he will not require cardiopulmonary bypass. Also since the scope is something he’s had so many times and if the lung inflates and works like it should, Cole will be happy because it’s such a minor procedure and he’s done it so often.

Meanwhile, everyday that I watch my son struggle to breathe and requiring so much support it breaks my heart. He’s getting extremely bored and wants to be off the vent to play and do things. However, he’s smart enough to know that right now he requires the support. I’ve been discussing with Cole, at a high level, what needs to happen and that surgeries are required to help him breathe. As much as Cole hates Doctors, surgeries, and hospitals he is definitely ok with going if that means he will breathe better. We’ve had lots of visitors and a support system I couldn’t possibly do it all without. Cole was even lucky enough that his school had the entire staff make a video for him signing we miss you. He loves it so much, he’s watched it over a hundred times. The other day, two very special interpreters, from his school came over to give him gifts, see him, and play some games with him. It truly made his day. Also, the kids at his school wrote some nice cards and drew him pictures. I can tell you this, the amount of love that so many people have for this little guy is truly astonishing and makes my heart unbelievably happy. Cole is that kind of child that people that get to know him are completely in awe about. His bright personality, his hilarious sense of humor, and his love for other people is what makes him stand out above the rest. The simple fact that he looks different with all the extra accessories such as tracheostomy, gtube, cochlear implant make him even more incredible because he’s overcome more in his eight years than most people in an entire lifetime.

We wake up at 3AM on Wednesday March 10th to get to Cole’s appointment by 10:30EST. Going to Cincinnati and losing an hour can be challenging, but it’s always a blessing to gain the hour back on the way home. In typical Cole fashion, he needs to make certain that we are going to the Doctor, they will put him under anesthesia, put a camera down his airway, he will wake up, and we will go home. I’m cautiously optimistic and tell him yes that’s the plan. I avoid explaining that it’s a possibility he would be admitted because they are implanting a stent and they may need to watch him overnight. Mark and I work together to gather all of Cole’s necessary medical equipment and we are ready to hit the road at 4AM. We arrive with 15min to spare and have to very quickly unplug the ventilator, disconnect the oxygen, and get Cole in the wagon. We don’t have a lot of time before his oxygen drops to the 70s, which is not good. We rush up to B3 the same day surgery and get him hooked up to the ventilator again. The entire time he’s acting completely fine and saying he’s all good without the vent.  Doctors, nurses, anesthesiologists, nurse practitioners, and surgeons all walk in to ask their questions and we answer them all as if we’ve done this thousands of times, oh wait… We have!  The most important surgeon walks in, which is doing the placement of the stent. He starts the conversation by saying, “I hope this works, wish me luck, and I’m going to do my best. This is where it’s our turn to ask all the questions. Between Mark and I we ask a ton. It’s a silicone stent, the size of the stent will be determined by measuring the left bronchi. The camera will go down first and do all the measuring. Then the stent will go in the airway with the camera attached to the back of it. He’s pretty sure the length of the stent will be the entire left bronchi. The risks with a stent are blockage and migration, moving from where it was originally placed. If this works, we should see immediate results but it will take weeks to truly determine if the lung is fully working and the blood is flowing like it should. This will be determined in a couple weeks with a ventilation perfusion (VQ scan) which will be scheduled in a few weeks. A VQ scan is made up of two scans that examine air flow and blood flow in your lungs. The first scan measures how well air flows through the lung. The second scan looks at where the blood flows in your lungs. The Doctor asks Cole if he needs anything and Cole explains that he is ready to go to sleep, but that he wants to stay in the wagon walking to the OR and during the procedure. The Doctor explains that might be tricky and says good to see you and is on his way. Now we wait for the pulmonologist so we can sign her consent form and wait for his scheduled OR time which is 11:55AM. They end up taking him back at 12:35PM and 5min prior to going back they drop some pretty crazy news on us. You need to spend the night!! Mark and I immediately push back and explain that this type of news can’t be thrown at us on the 11th hour. We try to plead our case, but due to the stent placement being added to this procedure they will not budge and insist they need to monitor him overnight. I’m saying my goodbyes and kissing Cole as he is waving and thinking of how difficult this news will be to him. The great news is he got his wish because the head of anesthesiologists allowed him to go to the OR in the wagon. Typically all patients go back laying on a bed. Cole had a big smile and signed I love you to Mark and I. Cole is a huge proponent of knowing exactly what his schedule is and no surprises, unless it’s gifts so the only worry going through my head is delivering him this news when he wakes up. The news of staying at the hospital overnight will not go well with him, especially since he ran through the agenda today several times. Cole would sign, I’m going to the Doctor, they will put me to sleep, do a scope, and we will go home. He then looks for confirmation that this is what is going to happen. I did explain multiple times that this was the plan, but sometimes plans change. I did that because I’m always cautious with these types of things. Nonetheless, it’s extremely frustrating that this was not communicated before. Not the surgeon, not the scheduler, or anyone in between had told us this would be overnight. This hospital knows extremely well that we travel very far to come here and we never stay the night, if avoidable. Mark and I go to the cafeteria to grab lunch and problem solve over what our options are to ensure we make the most sound decision. His dilemma is work and rescheduling pools during this time of year is almost impossible. I’m actually very fortunate to have bases covered at my job with proper coverage and I’m extremely thankful for that. My Mom, of course, has agreed to drive all the way here so Mark can leave and work tomorrow and she can drive home with me tomorrow with Cole. In addition, Mark calls an old employee to see if he can work in his place tomorrow and have the guys do the work without him. We also call Mark’s Mom to see if she can spend the night again to be with Lexi. Lexi is another one that doesn’t like surprises and last night she made certain we were coming home tonight. We confirmed we were, she too, will be extremely disappointed. We’ve got some good options so now we take a breath and just wish and hope that things go perfectly for our little super hero in the operating room. Cole has, literally, had hundreds of these scopes called microlaryngoscopy bronchoscopy (MLB). They have always taken 30min or less and here we are staring at the status board which tells us that Cole is still in OR. We are at 1 1/2 hours. Right after 2PM they call Kubista and Mark and I walk fast to the front desk. They have two older people walking us to a big room we have never sat in before. This is uncommon, but I think nothing of it and sit down and even make a statement like wow this room is much bigger than the others. The Doctors all come in and Coles main surgeon says, “WE LOST HIM!” Mark and I immediately said, WHAT!? How? He explains he punctured his aorta. We, literally, start screaming, bawling and holding each other so tight. The two older people that walked us to the room and were sitting in there were Chaplains, how did I miss that? Nonetheless, none of that is what I’m really thinking about. I’m much too busy having my heart breaking by the second. I start having trouble breathing and immediately feel sick to my stomach. The surgeon says he’s so sorry and that he can explain what happened if we would like that. I can’t even speak at this point and Mark just states, write it all down in detail on paper and send it to us. We want to see our baby!! They oblige and we walk down a long hallway into the OR where Cole’s dead body is laying on the operating table. There’s a long clear tube coming out of his neck full of blood and there is blood, literally, everywhere. I lean down and hold him so tight, his body is cold to the touch. Mark and I share his little body. Hugging him tight and kissing his face. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve this. It’s so unfair, I want to switch places with you. We love you more than anything. Please just wake up! These are all things that Mark and I were saying to our sweet boy while we were uncontrollably sobbing. We sit there for a while just talking to him, bawling our eyes out, and wishing this was all just a nightmare. I feel incredibly helpless and I know there’s no way I can leave his body just sitting there, but we have no choice. He’s gone, he’s really gone. The little miracle baby that has, literally, fought every fight and came out ahead is gone. The chaplains bring us back to the room. While we’re walking I look up and see a digital clock sign on the ceiling that reads 3:30 May 10th. My baby boy lost his life exactly 20 days before his ninth birthday, the birthday he’s been talking about and looking at the calendar since March and counting down the days. We were supposed to go to our cottage and celebrate his birthday. Months back we had try to convince him to go to Cabo for his birthday, but this little boy loved the cottage so much he was adamant about going. When we get to the room, they hand us a pamphlet on what to do next such as call funeral home, request autopsy, etc. We simply put the pamphlet in Cole’s favorite red wagon and we pull the wagon to our car… Without our baby boy! How Mark made it home is beyond me. We cried so hard and held hands so tight. This is the most unfair thing ever! Cole has fought everyday of his life and to be robbed of his opportunity to continue fighting because a Doctor made a mistake and punctured his aorta is not ok. We need him! We talked about how Cole lit up everyone’s life and how he still had an impact to make and desired to live so much. We also begin discussing how we tell Cole’s big sister, Lexi. Cole and Lexi have an unbelievable bond and Lexi is so passionately protective of her little brother. She is not going to take this well and we’re so devastated that we have to deliver this news to her. On our way home, we start responding to calls and texts of people curious how Cole’s procedure went. Calling my Mom was so hard and I knew her and my Dad would be absolutely crushed. Calling Mark’s Mom was so unfair because she was watching Lexi and to make her hold back her tears and emotions and play it cool for her granddaughter must have been the toughest thing. We get home around 7:30PM and we tell Lexi we have the saddest news we will ever give her and that her baby brother is gone. At first she didn’t believe it and she ran to the car to see if he was there. He was not, but his ventilator, suction machine, wagon, clothes, blankets, and stuffed animals were. She quickly went from disbelieve to anger. She started screaming that she wishes the Doctor would die and she wants to kill the Doctor for killing her baby brother. It’s not fair!! I can’t live without him! He’s my best friend! I wanted so hard to be strong for her, but I was crying inconsolably and just hugging her so tight. She ran off and started calling her friends. I could hear her screaming so loud. Her friends were so sad and crying with her. In fact, these girls have learned sign to communicate with Cole and always engage and play games with him when they’re over. I hear the ring motion go off and I go to the door and it’s my best friend, Lisa with a huge bag of Portillos. I just hug her so tight and cry so hard and she just tells me she loves me and she’s so sorry. She comes in the house and makes her rounds hugging tight both Mark and Lexi. We sit and talk about Cole, some laughs but mostly tears. Lisa goes home and the three of us; Mark, myself, and Lexi go to Cole’s bedroom and lay on his bed. We smell his blankets, pillows, and we cry and just hold each other.  We cry for hours and then we head to our bed and we all hold each other tight. No one really slept and everyone was sobbing throughout the night. The house was unbelievably quiet. For eight years we have had a machines, a ventilator that beeps many times throughout the night and an oxygen tank that makes noise. All I wanted was to have Cole and all his machines going off. What I would do to get him back! I want the machines, I want the beeping, and I’ll never complain again about having to get up from alarms going off, if I could just have my baby back! I contact the hospital and I ask for the surgeon to call me so I can understand fully what happened and why a simple procedure could have possibly ended like this. The surgeon called and explained it all. I truly appreciate his transparency, but his being so sorry and honesty will not bring our son back. He explained that he tried two times with a larger stent and it was too big.  So he decided he would try (even though he doubted it would work) a smaller stent. He had a camera but it was on the backside of the stent and he attempted to pass what he believed was right past the carina. He couldn’t get it through and when he pulled the stent back he said blood was everywhere. He said the stent went through the bronchi wall and must have either punctured the aorta or pulmonary artery. It’s very hard to tell, but the autopsy will provide exact clarity. He said it’s hard to gauge time in a situation like this, but he thinks it was only 4 seconds before Cole’s entire airway filled with blood. I asked him why he couldn’t save my baby when he was in the OR with all the right Doctors. He explained that they considered ECMO or cutting open his chest, but he said there simply wasn’t enough time and because the blood was coming out so quickly, it was certain to have filled up the brain and they made a decision to not pursue further treatment. With every word my heart was crushing and I was having such a hard time hearing these things. But I needed to hear it, I needed to know the specifics why I was told the worse thing that could happen was a blockage or migration. NEVER was death an option. I needed to tell him that my daughter (Cole’s big sister) is so angry at him that she wishes he would die for killing her baby brother. I continued explaining to him that he took the most wonderful boy in the world and he had no idea what he robbed from Cole. Cole was a fighter and he was not ready to die. He had overcome every obstacle in his life and he robbed my son of that opportunity by a mistake… A big mistake! He explained that he was truly sorry and hundreds of people on staff at the hospital know Cole and are completely devastated. Our lives will be forever shattered and missing a huge piece of our heart. I’m so broken and it’s impossible for me to see how life will go on. If there’s a chance it does, I promise it will never be the same. Cole was everything to me, everything to my family, and we need him. We don’t just want him we NEED him. My sweet boy, who seriously lit up a room and positively impacted so many lives (especially mine) is gone… Forever.