The Last Heartbeat

I could feel it. On the 26 of June 2016, I had the worst feeling a mother could have. The feeling that these were the last hours with my son.

His skin colour was now yellow, his eyes where grey, his face was sunken and you could see every bone in his body. His belly was swollen, lumps and bumps took over his stomach. I was watching my son die.

As that day went by, his breathing slowed, his heart rate was high and his body felt like it was on fire.

He could no longer speak, except for the word “ouch”, which he repeated over and over again, which meant his pain meds had to be raised, which in turn meant he was barely awake.

When he could open his eyes, they no longer looked like my happy boy, but instead gave me a look of “Momma help me” & of course it shattered my heart because I could no longer save him. He continually told us, “I’m never getting better” How could he know at 4 years old that his time was coming to an end. 

I held him close that night, I didn’t let him go, I wished I could have hugged him tighter but his fragile body wouldn’t allow it.

I left my hand on his chest over his heart, making sure to feel every breath and every beat. I remember the feeling of his skin, it was no longer soft and smooth. I remember the feeling of his hair on his head and his long eyelashes. I spent time remembering how his hand felt in mine, and how perfect he was.

It’s a night that should have never happened, a night that is truly the worst nightmare any parent can have. Its a night that can never be erased.

As the 26th turned to the 27th, my heart was shattering even more, he was fading. I knew what was coming. I sang him all is favourite songs, my husband read him his favourite books and we talked about all the things that he would be able to do. We promised him to continue his fight & to always say his name. We spoke about all the amazing things we did as a family and how brave and strong he truly is. We cried and we cried.

It was now 3:50am. He decided to take off his oxygen mask and threw it, he was done with it. His breathing now spaced farther and farther with each breath, and slowly his body was shutting down. As my husband and I looked at each other, we knew this was it, our final moments with Mason.

I held him close as my husband held his hand, and we whispered in his ear how proud we were of him, and told him it was okay to let go if he is hurting.

4:00am, I felt it, something no parent should ever have to feel. I felt my beautiful 4 year old boy take his last breath, and I felt his final heartbeat.  My heart had left my body, and my eyes didn’t want to believe what had happened. He was gone, his body no longer moved.

I held his little body so tight now, I felt his skin instantly turn hot to cold, his eyes no longer blinked & his lips no longer kissed me.  I was being selfish, crying and not allowing anyone else to hold him or touch him, I wanted him all to myself, because I didn’t want it to be the last time i was able to hold him. For over 3 hours I held his little body, trying to remember every inch of him until it was time to walk him to the van that would take him away.

As we wrapped him in his favourite Spiderman blanky, kissed his head, told him we loved him, we then watched him slowly leave our home. I did not want to walk back into our house, three of us walked out, but only two were going back in. My eyes were swollen and I could barely see. My mind was racing and my heart was empty. We laid in his room, hugging his clothes and his favourite stuffed animals, trying to feel him next to us. We didn’t say a word to anyone. It was our time to grieve in silence and writing it down, meant it had happened…

1 year, 365days & 525600 minutes have gone by since the worst day of my life, the day I lost my son.

It will never feel real, get easy, or hurt less.

This day reoccurs every time I close my eyes, every time I walk passed his room, and every time we visit his spot where he will forever sleep.

June 27 2016, is the day I lost my heart, my 4 year old boy, my best friend and the person I love like no other. It is the day my world would no longer be the same.

Mason Iain Bacon-Macri, Not a day goes by that i don’t think of you, say your name or tell you that I love you. You are an incredible little man that changed the world, and continues to do so. You are the bravest, strongest and most lovable boy. In four short years you figured out life, how to live it, how to love it and how to change it. I am so proud of the little boy you became.

I don’t even have the words to tell you how much I miss you, because there are no words strong or powerful enough to let you know.  

I always told you not to grow up, but i didn’t think that would actually come true..

I love you, I love you forever.

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It has been a while since I posted a new blog. Being vulnerable online is always scary.

This year Is a new start to dedicate more time to once again write blogs in hopes that it can help one person.

The Last Drive Home

“June 7 2016, 3 years ago today – We packed up our boy and took him for his last car ride home.”

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The Fight Like Mason Foundation is committed to improve treatment, care, quality of life and awareness of patients diagnosed with childhood rhabdomyosarcoma and other childhood cancers. The foundation does not receive any government funding and therefore solely relies on the generosity of others. There are many ways you can give; reoccurring monthly support, sponsor an event or program or give a one-time donation. Every donation counts in our fight to Defeat the Villain for Good!