Hannah was a wonderful nurse throughout our son’s three-month stay in the PCICU. However, in his last two weeks of life, Hannah became a lifeline for us. She was assigned to us several times over his final two weeks, both as his nurse and as his ECMO technician. She helped us understand the ECMO process and helped us find ways to participate in our son’s care despite his critical nature.

When it became clear that he was declining, she stayed with us and encouraged us through the heart-wrenching end-of-life conversations. On his final day of life, Hannah coordinated with Child Life, Music Therapy, and other staff to allow our family to join us and sing over him before he passed. She helped make sure that I could bathe him — something that had been so important to me — before our families arrived. She took family pictures of us and notified staff of his decline so that all day we had visitors from my OB/MFM office, pediatric cardiology, and others come to say goodbye.

What I will never forget is her last gift of kindness to us. Before shift change, when it became clear that our son would die during the night shift, Hannah came to me to let me know that she would be staying past shift change to walk this journey with us to the end. She made it clear we were not to rush for her but just be with our son. I felt so immensely seen and loved. I breathed a literal sigh of relief knowing she would be there with us. We were able to hold our son for nearly three hours before he died in our arms.

After he passed away, Hannah helped us clean him and dress him for the very first time. When we realized his booties had accidentally been sent home, she searched the hospital and found the cutest pair of mismatched socks for him to wear. It seems like such a little thing — socks — but it made such a difference to me. This was the one and only time we were able to dress our son. He was buried in those socks.

Hannah stayed for at least five, perhaps more, hours after her shift ended. There is not enough “thank you” for what that meant to us. Sometime during our son’s last day, Hannah shared that she had been three years old when her sister passed away. Our daughter had just turned four. She showed me the necklace she wears for her sister and talked about how that loss led her to become a nurse. It meant so much to me because I was so worried about our daughter and the impact this would have on her.

Hannah’s story has given me hope, courage, and joy — seeing how her own family’s pain caused her to become our source of comfort. As a PCICU parent, I am also a Corewell provider. My ACLS lapsed while our son was hospitalized, so I needed to renew it before returning to work. I was feeling very anxious about my return, still grieving and going back downtown to the Medical Mile for the first time since our son died. All jittery, I arrived at the class and walked in the front door at the same time as Hannah. She was also there for her renewal. My fears vanished, and I felt completely at peace.

Hannah, throughout our four-month hospital stay, and particularly in our final days, epitomized care for us. She cared not only exceptionally well for our son, but for the minds, bodies, and souls of his grieving parents. If this is not the peak of nursing excellence, I don’t know what is. Hannah, we are so grateful. Thank you for holding us in the hardest days of our lives. We cannot thank you enough.