Vol. 2, No. 1 • Fall 1997

Sudden and Silent: A Killer Among Us
by Cheryl Ezell

After submitting an article for the first issue of Fostering Perspectives about losing two infant daughters to AIDS, it would seem unbelievable that I would be writing another article regarding the death of a child.

We recently got a beautiful 9-month-old infant boy whom I'll call "Chevy" whose sparse medical history included possible cerebral palsy and failure to thrive. Not much else was known at the time of placement. We found out immediately that he could not suck; but by massaging the "suck pads" in his cheeks while feeding, he ate ravenously and appeared to be gaining a significant amount of weight. He also began smiling, laughing out loud, and "cooing" in response to our voices. Home health nursing visits, physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy were ordered; and test such as EKG, CT scans, baby grams and barium swallows were to be further discussed and possible ordered at his next doctor appointment in two weeks.

Thirteen days later, I put him down for a nap in the porta-crib near the windows in the dining area (which were open) instead of his baby bed in the nursery, so I could hear him if he awoke while my daughter and I were on the patio. I had forgotten my drink, so I came back to the house to get it and check the time so I wouldn't get sunburned. It was exactly 1:05 on my microwave. I checked Chevy, placing my hand on his back to check his breathing ( I do this with all of my children all the time.) He squirmed in his sleep, so I got my Mountain Dew and went back to my lawn chair. Chevy had to be placed on his stomach to sleep so that he would not aspirate formula into his lungs when he spat up or "refluxed" his formula.

In just a few minutes, at 1:21, I came back in the house for something. I looked over at Chevy and something did not look "right." I went over and placed my hand on his back again, but didn't feel him breathing.

I immediately picked him up, turned him over in my arms, gave him two breaths, then checked for a heartbeat. I did not feel one, so I gave him two more breaths, ran to the phone, and dialed 911. I placed him on the floor with me over him doing CPR while giving the basic information to 911. I think I simply screamed at them, "My baby is not breathing! He is NOT breathing!" and gave them the address. I continued CPR until the paramedics arrived. They took over CPR, then transported him to the hospital where the physicians performed CPR for an additional 50 minutes. They could not save Chevy.

I got a tape measure and measured the distance between where he was sleeping and where I was sitting--we were only 9 feet apart. I did everything I could to revive him. I started the CPR the moment I picked him up and continued until the paramedics took over. I just don't know what happened during those 16 minutes.

An autopsy was performed and the attending physician called me the next day with the results: Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS)--every mother's nightmare.

I have done a little research and this is what I have learned: the current definition of SIDS is "the sudden death of an infant under one year of age which remains unexplained after a thorough case investigation, including performance of a complete autopsy, examination of the death scene, and a review of the clinical history." Although much has been learned about SIDS in the past 30 years, scientists still cannot point to one definite cause or causes and, unfortunately, there is no way to prevent SIDS from occurring. But we do know some basic facts. SIDS is:

• a major cause of death in babies from 1 month to 1 year of age; most SIDS deaths occur when a baby is between 2 and 4 months old
• sudden and silent--in most cases, the baby seemed healthy
• unpredictable and unpreventable
• a death that occurs painlessly and quickly, usually while the baby is asleep
• determined only after a complete autopsy, an examination of the death scene, and a review by a doctor or other health professional of the baby's case history
• a diagnosis of exclusion--all other causes of death are ruled out
• recognized by doctors and other health professionals as a medical disorder
• second only to birth defects as the leading cause of death among all infants less than 1 year of age.

This does not ease my mind, nor lessen the pain in my heart. I did not have an opportunity to meet Chevy's biological parents, and I wonder, "Do they blame me for their son's death?"

I did not go to his funeral. My social worker agreed that this is a private moment for his family and I would be an unwelcome stranger. We are dealing with our own grief and I don't think I could bear to see the pain in his mother's eyes. We will plant a tree in his name and have a memorial service for him separately. Although CPR could not revive Chevy, I encourage you to become certified in Infant/Child CPR. It could save a child's life.

My faith again carries me through each day and my favorite Bible verse stays in the recesses of my mind: "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angles unaware" [Hebrews 13:2]. I have held in my arms and still hold in my heart three of Heaven's tiniest angels.

Cheryl Ezell is a foster parent in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Copyright � 2000 Jordan Institute for Families