Ollie and I started our day early. He was up at 6:30 a.m., full of energy, and I was happy to spend the day with him. After his dad left for work, we got dressed and began cleaning the house. He loved helping me do little chores, especially laundry. I had a top-loading washing machine, and Ollie would throw the clothes piece by piece, smiling proudly. It was our pleasant little routine.
I remember standing behind him, gently guiding his small hands as he helped. It is one of those memories i will always star, being present with him, even in the simple moments.
After we put the sheets in, we left the laundry room together. I walked about 15 feet into the living room and started reading an article about my pregnancy. I was standing, just skimming, but then I realized it was too quiet. No whining, no singing, no tiny footsteps.
My heart released.
I called out to Ollie, expecting a quick reply. But nothing. I looked around, panic growing fast. I ran to the back door it was still closed and locked.
I ran through the kitchen. No sign of him. The whole house was small, only 1500 square feet, and yet I could not hear or see him.
That is when the fear hit me. I began calling out his name, each time louder than before.
My heart pounded in my ears. I looked through every room and opened every door, but he was nowhere to be found. I returned to the laundry room. The washer lid was open, the cycle had stopped, and suddenly, I just knew.
I did not want to believe it. Still, I put my hands into the icy water, hoping with all my heart I was mistaken. I felt his little body, and my whole world crushed. I screamed. I cried. I request help.
I could not pull him out by myself. My pregnant belly made it even harder. I ran across the street, screaming for someone to call 911. My neighbor quick over, and together we freed Ollie from the machine. He was not breathing.
Our neighbors performed CPR until help arrived. I held his hand and pleaded with him to stay with us. It seemed unreal, like a terrible dream, but it was actually happening.
At the hospital, doctors did everything they could. For 24 hours, we waited, prayed, and hoped. But Ollie had no brain activity. We made the painful choice to remove life support. II was able to hold my little boy once more, wrapping him in my arms as he took his final breath.
Seven years have gone by, and we still speak of him every single day. His memory lives on, and last year, on his angel day, we welcomed a baby boy our little miracle.
Please, if you have kids, check your home. Lock your washers. Don’t ever assume something is too safe to be dangerous. Hug your children tighter. Be present. And if you are grieving, give yourself grace. There is no right way to heal but sharing our stories can help us breathe again.
