Nixon David Pheysey

I sit alone in my room in New Orleans and look out the window at a city in the state of reconstruction. It’s been almost 4 years since Hurricane Katrina plowed through here leaving a swath of destruction, sorrow, and hopelessness. As I watch the proud residents of New Orleans piece back together the city and their lives I find hope. Perhaps this is the ideal location for me to reminisce about the recent devastation and reconstruction in my own life.

As you may know, Gaylene and I lost our son Nixon on April 30th. We were told that it was from an infection in the womb and there was nothing either of us could have done to prevent it, or to change the outcome. Hollow words as we clung to each other in the hospital: “Your baby is going to come today and it’s just too soon. There will be nothing we can do for him.” echoed over and over in my head. As a husband, an expectant father, and a colleague of the person giving the news my head spun. “Nothing we can do” is neither the credo of the emergency physician nor the words of hope and solace this husband and father wanted.

Gaylene was wonderful. She was strong and beautiful. She did everything an expectant mother should do. We waited in physical and emotional pain for the chance we would have to hold him. He was beautiful and he looked at peace. He had some of my features and Gaylene’s beautiful blond curls. We held him, told him how much we looked forward to being his parents and how much we loved him. And then, his body was gone….but his spirit lingered.

Through the post-delivery complications and scares Gaylene was stoic. I was to be her safe harbor during this yet it felt the other way around. I cried. I don’t do that. I didn’t know what else to do. On the phone, in my car, in the shower, and as I type now, tears fall. They don’t spill as often now, and I can explain what happened with some composure.

I think we are rebuilding. We have had so much love and support showered on us the last few weeks. Friends, family, hospital staff. Everyone has been wonderful. I watched the love others had for my wife from a distance. How deeply she has touched the lives of the people here in such a short time amazes me, but I understand it. The same thing happened to me.

As I sit here and examine my heart I see holes. Some are bigger than others. Some with well healed patches and others that are not quite there yet. I know this will be the most complicated rebuild I’ve had to face but with my wife by my side and your continual love and support I’ll get there.

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, flowers, meals, love and friendship. You have become the building blocks I need for this reconstruction. We have the scaffolding up and are making headway. As with all the other holes in my heart, this one will always be there. Never forgotten, never completely understood, but forever a part of me.