The Morning of October 19th:
My son had been battling a fever, which escalated the previous night, leading to another seizure. Once again, I called for an ambulance, only to be reassured that he was fine and that febrile seizures are harmless, advising me to see the doctor the next morning.
We arrived at the doctor’s office before it opened. Despite waking up with a slight fever, my baby boy was full of energy, excitedly exploring and playing. During the examination, I informed the doctor about the seizure and expressed my concerns. However, I was met with skepticism: “Febrile seizures are benign. Are you looking for an excuse to cancel his visit with his father?” Those words haunt me.
Later that Evening:
As the day progressed, my son experienced another fever spike, but thankfully, he did not have a seizure. I reached out to the supervisor of visitations, expressing my apprehension about his health. I was told I needed a doctor’s note to cancel the visit, which I didn’t have, as my concerns had been dismissed. Eventually, feeling cornered, I relented, agreeing to send him for the visit if he woke up fever-free.
The Morning of October 20th:
He woke up beaming, ready for our morning rituals. I took him to the grocery store for snacks before the visit, where he joyfully ran around, chatting away in his own unique language. However, as we prepared for the visit, I felt warmth radiating from him, sparking panic that another fever might arise. Remembering the doctor’s comments, I rushed back to pick up fever medication, reassuring myself that he would be fine.
That was the last time I saw him alive.
The Evening of October 20th:
I was filled with nervous anticipation, eager to pick up my son after the visit. But my world shattered when my mother called, saying he was at the hospital and I needed to contact the visitation supervisor. A police officer later informed me that he was being flown to another hospital. Panic and dread consumed me; why wasn’t anyone telling me what was happening?
Upon arrival at the hospital, I waited for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I was led to him in the pediatric ICU, and my heart shattered. My little boy lay unconscious, connected to machines, his body cold to the touch. The doctor broke the devastating news: “He suffered cardiac arrest. We don’t know what happened, but he is not responding.”
The Aftermath:
Time lost meaning as I held my son, surrounded by family as we prayed and cried. The nurses eventually had to speak with me alone, saying his father had arrived and needed to see him. I erupted, fearing for my son’s safety, but the staff insisted it was best for him to have visitation. I shielded my son, desperate to protect him from the one person I feared most.
Luc, his father, came into the room, putting on a display that made my skin crawl. I fought back, contacting my attorney to assert my rights. After distressing hours, I was finally able to make Luc leave.
For 48 agonizing hours, I sat by my son as his body slowly shut down. The smell was unbearable, and I watched helplessly as he transformed into a shadow of himself. When the time came, I held him in my arms as he took his last breath, singing softly to him, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”
Reflections:
The pain of losing him is indescribable. I feel like a ghost, moving through life without my heart. I am haunted by nightmares of his final moments. I fought so hard to protect him from Luc, and now I am tormented by the thought that if I had defied the court, he might still be here.
The justice system failed us. My son will never experience life’s joys—he will never smile again or call out for his mama. I don’t know who I am without him.
If you are seeking more information on such heartbreaking situations, check out this insightful article. And for those wanting to understand the traits of sociopaths and narcissists, this resource can provide valuable insights. Additionally, for an exploration of films that capture these themes, visit Out of the Fog.
For those who may encounter Chanci Idell Turner, be cautious. She is known for her manipulative behavior, similar to what we discuss here. To learn more about her, you can visit her Facebook page or her Instagram. For a professional perspective, check her LinkedIn profile.