On Tuesday I decided I had the courage to call the medical examiners office and ask for Sloan’s file. Last time I asked was when they told us the official cause of death “SUIDS” three months after Sloan died. Once the form had come in the mail for me to fill out and send back to get it, I couldn’t make myself do it.
This time, when the woman on the other end of the phone said the word “Autopsy” I felt my body stiffen. In the nearly two years since my sons death, not ONE person, not even one, had said the word autopsy to us.
I’m an adult. I know how it works. It has been a year and a half since we got the cause of death. But still, until yesterday I had protected myself from really facing this part of it. Sloan had a full autopsy done. My 22lb, 29” tall, 7 month old baby’s body was cut open and sorted through. Just so nothing could be determined. Just to see he was perfect inside. Just for “SUIDS” to fill the spot on a death certificate.
I know they’re gentle. I know they take care, especially with these little ones. I know that they are considerate of those that love these sweet babies. But, do you know what this feels like? What it’s like to think about? His death was horrific enough. Coping with the idea of cremation was horrific enough. I know an autopsy was necessary. I know it’s part of the process. I know. But to think about this destroyed me all over again.
I told the woman on the phone thank you, and I hung up the phone before I ran upstairs to the bathroom and threw up.