It's been 5 days since Bella passed away, and it's barely starting to feel real.. I cleaned my room today, I had purposely been putting it off. I didn't throw anything away, I didn't move anything out of its place; I couldn't. The realization that she's really gone is starting to kick in. The clothes she wore on her last days still smell like her, that beautiful scent of hers. Her favorite toys are in the same bag I brought them home in; I can't get rid of them. I folded her blankets and put them back in their place, I folded her clothes and put them in the drawers, I put her little brush back in its place; I can't believe I'll never see that beautiful smile again. Last night it finally started to sink in, and it hurts. I don't want to let the pain take over, I can't just yet; I'm not ready for that unbearable pain that's coming. It creeps in occasionally, and I know it's going to take over soon. I didn't go visit her grave sight yesterday, and I feel horrible about it. Every single day since Bella was born, I never once went an entire day without seeing her. When I realized that it was so late in the day, and I wouldn't be able to go see her, the pain I felt was unexplainable. I know she's in a better place, but I can't help but want her back. I miss the way she fit perfectly in my arms, and the way those big brown eyes looked up at me. The way she'd touch our faces, as if she were telling us that things would be okay.
On November 30th, the doctors broke the news to us that Isabella was not getting better, and that we would have to make a decision about her future and what we wanted for her. Bella was not able to eat by mouth, she was very delayed, and physically she didn't do very much. She was aspirating her own saliva, which was causing her lungs to deteriorate. The option was to repair the stomach surgery and put in a treach vent. However, this would only lengthen her time a little bit. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make in my entire life. We didn't want her to suffer anymore, she was tired and we could see it. We'd asked her to fight a battle that she would not win, and it'd be cruel of us to ask her to keep fighting for us. We decided to go for comfort care so that she would go as peacefully as possible, and wouldn't feel pain. It all happened so quickly, it felt as though I had been sucker punched in the stomach. We decided that we would continue with her care as we had been before going into the hospital, and when she started to show signs of the pneumonia taking over, we'd start the comfort care. I honestly didn't believe that we had so little bit of time. I had hoped that the pneumonia would clear up and we'd be able to take her home, but that didn't happen. On the night of December 2nd, Isabella had a really hard time breathing. It broke our hearts to see her gasping for air. The doctors did not give much of an option, other than providing more oxygen, which we knew didn't help at all. She was gasping for air for about 20 minutes, and we could see the pain and desparation in her eyes. We never wanted her to go through that pain, ever again. We made the decision to start the comfort care that night. A decision that I questioned every single day after that, until the very last day of Isabella's life. For the rest of her days she was pretty drowsy from the morphine, she hardly woke up. There were moments when she'd still open her eyes and reach for our faces. I couldn't believe that I was watching my daughter die. I hated myself, I hated the doctors, I hated God himself.
She kept fighting, there were times when I thought that maybe she just wasn't ready to go. It was almost as though God himself sent the Doctor to answer my question. The doctor came in and looked at Bella, her breathing was steady compared to the last few times she had seen her. I told her she was still fighting, and she said, "Isabella is a strong little girl. She's fighting. Not because she wants to stay, but because fighting is all she knows." I thought about this, and it honestly made so much sense.
I watched Bella breathe, every rise and fall of her chest. I could see the struggle, I could see her fighting. The following days happened so quickly. They gave her more morphine and it made her sleepier. The goal was for her to be sleepy so that she wouldn't feel the desparation of needing more oxygen. On the morning that she passed away it happened in a matter of minutes, but to me it felt like time had just stopped. She took her last breath, and it took me a little bit to realize that she had actually stopped breathing. I woke her dad up and we both knew. Her heart kept beating for a few seconds and then it slowly faded away. She looked relaxed, like she had finally breathed a sigh of relief. Bella had entered the gates of Heaven, she was flying with the angels.