 Death of my child
Don’t tell me you know how I feel
unless you’ve been there.
Most people will never understand how those little words “I know how
you feel” can hurt so deeply, unless they've been in your shoes. My past
athletic career as a professional fighter never prepared me for a battle
of this proportion. But truly, I can say now, if you're a parent, and
you've ever had a child die, I do know how you feel. And if you want to
survive the onslaught of torment you will go through, you had better
have someone in your life that lives a solid, stable life that you can
both lean on and glean some truth from and, most importantly of all, has
also had their own child die. Otherwise, your dark days, and we’ve all
had them, will become the rest of your family’s nightmare. You can make
it. My desire is to help you do just that.
Nathan Spinks
My firstborn son was only a year and a half years old when we noticed
he was watching his favorite cartoon shows by turning his head to the
side. I thought it was nothing, but my wife felt differently. So,
reluctantly, I agreed to take him to the doctor to see if he might need
glasses. I thought to myself, Dear God, please don't let my little boy
have to wear glasses. His mom and I don’t wear glasses. No one in our
family has ever had to wear glasses. Crazy how I thought this would have
been so terrible, right? But through a series of three or four different
doctors, all kinds of tests and x-rays and eventually an MRI, my reality
would be much worse. I would never have believed in a thousand years
that I would have to hear these words. Seems these types of things
always happen to others, right? And those words, that I will never
forget as long as I live, would be the very words that would begin to
tear my world apart. The doctor said “Mr. and Mrs. Spinks, I have some
very bad news that I have to share with you, news that I will probably
only have to share with parents once in my career as a doctor. Your
child has a very serious problem. Nathan has a very large tumor in his
brain. Your son has brain cancer.” It’s been almost 6 years now since I
heard those words from the doctor and the pain is nearly as intense now
as it was then. It makes me cry today just like it did then. Never did I
imagine that next year and a half of Nathans’s life until he was 3 years
old the countless times I would have to listen to doctors tell me “Your
son will die and there is really nothing you can do about it.” They
described his cancer to me over and over again and about how it was
inoperable. How chemo and radiation has never helped in this type of
cancer. How no child has ever survived with this type of cancer. How
many times would I have to hear the gruesome turn of events that would
eventually happen to my innocent little boy? Slowly and methodically,
inch by inch, it would shut my only son’s body down until even his lungs
would not function as they should. I was outraged by their coldness but
continued to calm myself with the fact that they were just doing their
job. How many times would I wrestle with feelings of sadness and despair
that would flood my emotions in a way I had only experienced in bad
dreams?
What would my life be like now? Would I lose my house and everything
I owned because of the enormous doctor bills that would eventually total
more than $750,000? How could I perform my sales job with a jolly
personality with this hanging over my head? My despair was indescribable
and emotions uncontrollable. I considered myself a tough guy, but found
myself crying at the drop of a hat. I was a mess, my career was in
jeopardy, my future financially looked like it was coming to an end, and
my wife was depending on me to be someone she could lean on and hold
things together. This could not be happening to me.
Well, what those doctors described to me was exactly what happened,
and it crushed me beyond belief. I held my little boy close in the
hospital that day my son took his last breath. I spent over 50 days in
that hospital during the last days of Nathan's existence here on this
earth. I stepped away from my job, virtually never left his side, and
stepped out of my busy life for the next 50 days as Nathan struggled for
his life and gasped for each breath. It seemed like endless days and
nights where I would watch the machines hooked to his little body for
any glimmer of hope. But none came. It was only the presence of
something larger than myself that got me through those dark days. A
presence that I would now need to get me through the rest of my life, a
life here on earth without my precious son. During my darkest days
surrounding that year and a half, I struggled as any parent would. A
full range of emotions would flow on a daily basis. Feelings of anger
and rage would suddenly turn into deep depression. Feelings of joy to
see a smile on my son's face would instantly turn into feelings of the
deepest sadness I could ever imagine. How could this be, I would ask
myself. Countless times I thought of suicide; if my boy died, then so
would I. How can you possibly be an emotionally healthy person after
enduring such tragedy and witnessing the torment of your own son right
before your very eyes? How could you possibly live a life of peace after
such injustice? Well, I got those answers and more. Maybe you too, have
felt these same things if you are a parent that has lost his or her
child. No matter what age your child was, from premature birth to 29 yrs
old, no matter what was the cause from car wrecks to the War in Iraq,
the pain is still the same.
So part of the God-given responsibility I have now is to help others
through their darkest hours. There is much to learn--much that can ease
the pain. Much that will eventually help other parents that are at the
beginning stages of their own nightmare. Let me help you today. If you
are reading this and have lost a child to any kind of death, they are
all equally as painful. I believe there is a God that has specifically
directed you to this web site for a reason. Let Him have His way in your
life, and contact me. You will never be sorry that you did. From one
“badge of honor” parent to another. I live a life today with great peace
and hope for the future. And I only shared a tip of the iceberg of how
severe and harsh everything became. You too can live a life without the
constant onslaught of damaging feelings. There is a way that leads to
“life.” I’m here to help walk you through it.
Let's start some dialogue through email.
I look forward to hearing about your wonderful child and helping
you through this most painful time in your life.
My direct email is:
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