Our son, Josiah, was born prematurely on July 29th, 2025. He was born at 35 weeks. He was healthy and had no complications. At around 10 pm on August 21st, I checked on him and prepared to feed him as I always do. I noticed he felt very warm. I assumed it was because he was swaddled. I asked his father, "Does he feel warm to you?" We looked at each other, and his father grabbed the thermometer. We placed the thermometer under his armpit, and it read 101.6 degrees Fahrenheit. His father looked at the discharge paperwork from the hospital, and I said, "What's the normal temperature supposed to be?". He replied with, “98.6.” We checked Josiah's temperature again, and it had gone down to 100.2. He was fussy and wouldn't let us lay him down in his bassinet. I spent the majority of the night holding him.
We continued to check his temperature throughout the night. We decided we would check with his paediatrician first thing in the morning. We did. At 8 am sharp, as soon as the doctor’s office doors opened, we were there. At the doctor's, his temperature was 98.6. Normal. The nurse did a physical exam of Josiah, listened to his breathing with a stethoscope, and didn't find anything concerning. She ordered blood work and urine tests just to be on the safe side. We were advised to go back home, and if there were any changes, go to the emergency room (ER). We went home for about two hours and tried to feed baby Josiah again. He wouldn't eat and appeared lethargic. Again, his father and I looked at each other with concern. We knew we needed to go to the ER. We didn't know our lives were about to change forever.
At the ER, he suddenly appeared jaundiced. He was put into a room, and nurses and doctors were coming in and out, performing tests. It was a blur and a hectic time. Eventually, the doctor performed a spinal tap to test for meningitis. That was the diagnosis. My heart dropped, and his father and I started Googling what meningitis was and the survival rates. We were terrified.
Throughout the night, our son continued to get worse, even though doctors had started antibiotics and other treatment. We watched the monitors nervously. At one point, we watched his oxygen level drop to 59%. I will never forget seeing that number. My fiancé rushed to the nurse's desk, yelling for someone to come help. Our son was fighting for his life. I couldn't believe my eyes. A team of people rushed into the room to place our son on a breathing tube.
After hours in the ER with no food or sleep, the doctor pulled up a chair and spoke to us with a serious look. He said, "I'm sorry, your son may not make it through the night". "If it were me, I would want to know. I'm sorry". I was shocked and didn't say a word. My fiancé burst into tears.
The rest of the night was chaotic. At first, our son was supposed to be moved to the PICU (paediatric intensive care unit), but the PICU wouldn't accept him. They felt his condition was too severe. Reality was setting in. Our son was dying.
Over the next few hours, the doctor worked on getting medical transport to have our son transported to a local children's hospital in Atlanta, GA. We were finally able to get him transported the following morning, August 23rd. We watched as our son was loaded up into the transport truck and driven away. It was terrifying as doctors were worried he might not make it through the one-hour ride. But he did. A glimmer of hope. We got a call from the doctor that our son had made it to the Children's Hospital. Thank God. Now, what's next?
The doctor at the children's hospital called and told us, "Your son is very sick. He may die. If he makes it, he will have severe brain damage". Gut-wrenching to hear. We cried the entire way to the hospital. I didn't want to walk into that hospital room and see my son hooked up to wires. I told my fiancé, "I don't want to go in there". But I had to. I had to let my son know that we were there with him. The rest of the day was literal hell as neurologists, doctors, cardiologists and nurses came in to perform tests.
The next morning, August 24th, we woke up, ate, and went to our son's hospital room to check on him and get updates. The doctor came in and told us that our son didn't have any brain activity. Again, reality set in. He wasn't going to make it out of this. That's a hard reality for parents to face. We cried. The doctor said, "I think the best thing to do is to remove him from the machines and let you hold him". It was over. We continued to cry. We weren't ready to let him go. We had to make a difficult decision to call family and let them know what was going on. That was the hardest phone call of our lives. It was hard to say those words out loud.
At around 1 am on August 24th, our son was removed from life support and passed away peacefully in his father’s arms. I was so proud of his dad's strength. Removing your child from life support is one of those things no one should have to do.
We miss our son every second of every day. Our first son, we still struggle with bouts of depression, but we push forward every day because we have two other kids who need us to be strong.
Our son passed from meningitis and sepsis. The ER doctor told us it was a type of bacteria that originates from the GI tract. Our son was premature, born at 35 weeks. His little defence system could not fight off the infection. I replay the last two days of his life every day.
I share our story to bring awareness. I feel this is the right thing to do for my son's legacy. Josiah W. Walker was only with us for 25 days, but left a life-long impact on our hearts.
- Shamika and Jason Walker, Josiah’s parents