Apr 15

Apr 15 Toby, Taranaki

I was looking at the stars and saying, to anyone really, maybe my grandad … anyone, ‘Please, just help my poor boy. Let him live.’ Fuck. I’ll never forget that.

I’m Toby, I’m 32 and I live in Taranaki.

I’m in lockdown with my wife Laura and our 11-month-old son Zephyr.

Lockdown for us … well, it’s been a bit fucked-up really. A bad week. We actually wanted to reach out, to put our story out there, in case anyone else is going through something similar.

It came from nowhere, we’d been having such a fun day. We had the tent on the lawn, then we went ‘round to Laura’s mum’s place – she’s in our bubble – and when we came back, Zeph started to get a bit … well, it was the first day of daylight saving so we thought he was just tired. He had a bath with Laura and he just wasn’t himself. He’s usually pretty playful but he was just … flat. We got him out and gave him his bottle, which he started violently spewing up. We had to change his nappy at the same time, he was all go from both ends. We knew he wasn’t right. I rang Dad, he’s a doctor, and while I was speaking to him Laura randomly thought, ‘I’m going to check his nappy again,’ and she saw it was actually filled with blood. Dad said, ‘Take him straight to hospital,’ so we raced him into New Plymouth. Because of Covid, you’re only allowed one parent inside the hospital, so I had to wait outside. They wanted to keep him in overnight, so I had to leave them there and come home. It was around 10.30pm, I was just about to go to sleep when Laura called in hysterics. Zeph was bleeding out of his bum, tons and tons of blood. Like, bleeding out. She said, ‘I think we’re losing him.’ I zoomed into New Plymouth. I was allowed in, luckily, but it was fuckin’ terrifying. Zeph was so scared. That was the thing that got me the most, the thing that broke my heart – him being so terrified. He knew something was wrong, really wrong, even at 11 months old. His little face … he was looking at us like, ‘Mum, Dad, what’s happening!?’

No one knew what was going on and the doctors, the ultrasound people, they couldn’t get in ‘til the morning. He was losing so much blood. They gave him a transfusion and called around to try get a team together. At about 12.30am they decided fly him to Waikato. They could only take one person, so Laura went in the helicopter. I went home, made a strong coffee and drove to Waikato Hospital. I got there around 4am and slept, a bit, in my car. I was allowed into the hospital that morning. Just once, to see him. The night before, when I’d had to say goodbye to him, it was the worst feeling. I didn’t know if I’d see him again. I … I just had to drive by myself on empty roads to Waikato, for hours. It was a really eerie feeling. I’m not a religious person or anything, but I was looking at the stars and saying, to anyone really, maybe my grandad … anyone, ‘Please, just help my poor boy. Let him live.’ Fuck. I’ll never forget that.

The first few days were torturous. I’d get calls from Laura in tears, cos they couldn’t find Zephyr’s veins to take blood tests … she was seeing so much blood. I was in a motel room, by myself, just crying. I couldn’t DO anything. I just wanted to hug them. And I wanted to know everything, but I didn’t want to put more pressure on Laura. She was really struggling. She battles with blood – it’s one of the main things she hates, and it was everywhere. And when it’s coming from someone that you just worship … it must’ve been fucking horrible. So yeah, being by myself was weird - in this ‘8 Mile’ hotel type thing, just crying and eating. And being in the Tron … no, actually, I went on some walks and I was like, ‘the Tron’s actually beautiful, it’s not too bad.

After a couple of days, after doing heaps of tests and still not knowing the cause, they decided to do investigative surgery. Get in there, hopefully find what was wrong and fix it in the same surgery. And they were able to do that, thank god. Turns out it was a birth defect. Some part of the umbilical cord was on the inside and was starting to puncture his intestines. It’s actually quite common, but Zeph had it really bad. Still, they say he’ll make a full recovery. Hopefully I can go and get them in the next day or two.

Laura’s been there the whole time – five days now – and you can really see the bond they’ve built. She’s like a safety blanket, she brings him so much comfort. Because Waikato’s got Covid pretty bad – it just came out not long ago that two of the nurses there have it – they’re being really protective. Fair enough, but it’s … she’s been there alone, not allowed to leave the ward, sleeping with him and it’s … it’s tough. But shit, it’s comforting knowing that she’s there. A lot of people don’t even have that.

When I reached out to you I’d been talking to Laura about all the mothers in hospital giving birth without their partners, and mothers who’d just given birth to babies that had something wrong with them. They were all in there, by themselves, while their partners waited outside somewhere. It’s tough to even think about – even just missing those special moments once the baby arrives. It’s something that you can’t do again, it’s a one-off with that baby, so to miss it … it’s tough. And people are dying alone as well. It’s horrible.

In one way, Covid helped us. The helicopter was there ready to go and same with the ambulance to take them to the helicopter. All elective surgeries had stopped, so they could get a surgical team together quickly. So, from that sense it was actually good timing and we’re both so thankful. It’s a blessing that we had the resources to just make him healthy again. But then in another sense, the restrictions on who could be there and how we could support each other … it’s been heartbreaking and horrible. We realised, even though cases weren’t skyrocketing and we didn’t have the huge Covid death toll, there were still people going through absolute torture because of it. It’s like, you hear about it and you kind of know about it, but it’s not ‘til you’re in amongst it that you realise why they’re saying, ‘Stay at home’. I look around the world at all the heartbreak and think … I mean, shit, I may have snuck out for a surf early on, but now I’m like, ‘Fuck mate, what were you doing? Just stay in and help the country!’ It’s been a good reminder that this situation, Covid, the lockdown – it’s so much bigger than you. Or me. We can forget cos we’re so contained, forget that it’s not just about, ‘Damn, we can’t get a coffee,’ it’s actually like, ‘Oh no, hold on, people want to be able to give birth with their partners by their side again, and we want to have enough hospital beds for emergencies.’ It’s a good reminder. Some people may never get the chance to see their loved ones again, because of what’s happening.

For my side of the family Zeph’s their first grandchild, so they’re infatuated with him. We’re having to relay everything to them and they just want to just get up here to help us. Imagine, if the unthinkable had happened, they wouldn’t be able to get to us. We wouldn’t have had them when we needed them most.

I’ve never been through anything remotely like this. It’s brought everything into perspective. What’s important in life. It’s made me realise just how important health is. He was the chubbiest, happiest, healthiest little boy. A picture of health for a baby, you know? Then in the space of three hours … we could have lost everything. At the end of the day, it’s your family, your friends, your loved ones. You can get through anything as long as you have them. We would’ve swapped everything to make sure Zeph was ok. And thankfully, he is. He just finished his first 150mls of milk, and all the nurses want to be on his watch. Laura’s update today was, “Zephyr is a mini celebrity.’ If Laura goes to make a cup of coffee, the nurses all jump at the chance to hold him and take him walking down the corridor. Safe to say he’s enjoying the attention! He does have a decent cut on him, a battle wound that hopefully he’ll have for the rest of his life. He can use it – make up stories to pull girls later on (laughs). Just like his old boy.

I can’t wait to have them home and be able to spend time as a family and just, you know, look at them a bit differently. See how important they actually are. It’s fucked up that maybe you need situations like this to make you realise what’s important and show you how good you’ve got it.

Zephyr, mate, you’ve brought so much happiness to this world. In your short amount of time here you’ve touched so many people, made so many lives better. The outpouring of love you got from family, friends, nurses and people checking in from the first hospital … you’re a special little guy. We’re so fortunate to be in a world, in a country where this wasn’t … it wasn’t the end, it was just a little road bump. We’ll forever be grateful for that. You’ve come through this with flying colours Zeph. We can’t wait to keep watching you grow. We’ll never forget this time. We’ll never forget it.