The rain pours down, soaking everything in its path. I’ve cracked open the windows, and the fresh, earthy scent fills the room. Just outside, life thrives, but my heart is heavy with the tragic news of a young boy’s untimely passing. It’s just past 11:00 a.m., and as I hang up the phone, tears well in my eyes. I silently express gratitude for my own children, who are waiting for me.
The Smith family, who I just spoke with, have only one child left, having lost their son, Ethan, three years ago to sepsis—an illness that can be clearly identified but often isn’t. A minor scrape from a gym class turned deadly when bacteria entered the wound, leading to sepsis. Within just three days, Ethan was gone. I was taken aback to learn that over 250,000 Americans die from sepsis every year, making it the leading cause of pediatric deaths worldwide.
Later, my son is engrossed in building a castle with his blocks. He’s doing his best to keep his little sister from demolishing it, but eventually, he invites her into the story. As the living room darkens, I flick on the lights, and he elaborates on his grand creation—a knight defending his fortress against the toddler invader.
Ethan was a few years older and also loved building. One day, much like today, his mother asked what he was constructing. With a heart full of aspirations, he shared his vision of a hospital near the site where Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot, hoping to save lives.
After dinner, my son sits at his desk, scribbling a short story. The vibrant red desk is set against a taupe wall, adorned with Star Wars memorabilia, yet stuffed animals still linger—reminders of his childhood. I’ve peeked at his drafts before; they’re simple but imaginative. Even at six, he’s already showing signs of a budding writer.
Ethan also had a desk, black and situated in a dark blue room he chose himself, decorated with airplane models. By age twelve, he had already taken to the skies. After his tragic passing, his parents found a letter he’d written to the leader of North Korea, showcasing his passion for human rights even at such a young age.
Post our family walk, my son greets everyone we pass. It slows our pace, but I let him connect. At just six years old, he’s already a social butterfly, introducing himself to everyone at kindergarten orientation. He easily befriends lonely classmates, showing empathy beyond his years.
Ethan, who was twelve when he died, had a reputation for kindness. He was known for taking new students under his wing, making them feel welcome. A classmate from Japan penned a heartfelt tribute after Ethan’s passing, highlighting his incredible friendship. Standing at 5’9″ and 160 pounds, he was the tallest in his class, but instead of using his size to intimidate, he was the gentle giant—the friendly redhead with freckles.
As bedtime approaches, my children play together, with my son chasing his sister from room to room, their laughter echoing. I gather them for a bedtime story, which my son sometimes reads to us.
Ethan and his sister, Lily, shared a bond similar to my children’s. They would ride bikes around their neighborhood, and at just seven years old, Ethan even campaigned for a new bike path. His mother read to them at night, just as I do now.
When I talked to the Smiths, I couldn’t help but see my son in Ethan and my daughter in Lily. The heartbreaking truth is that it could have been anyone’s child. The only difference is that tonight, I can tuck my kids in; Ethan’s bed remains empty.
Ethan’s death from preventable sepsis is a stark reminder of the importance of understanding this illness. As stated by the Sepsis Alliance, sepsis is the body’s extreme response to infection, leading to potential organ failure and death. It can arise from any cut or scrape, just as it did for Ethan. Symptoms can mimic the flu, making early detection crucial. If caught early, recovery is possible; if not, the consequences can be fatal.
Please, honor Ethan’s memory by learning the signs of sepsis: fever, dizziness, cold or mottled skin, chills, shortness of breath, and more. September is Sepsis Awareness Month—visit the Rory Staunton Foundation for vital information on prevention and education.
Let’s be proactive. Educate yourself about sepsis, and safeguard your children’s lives.
For more on parenting and home insemination, check out this resource and this one. And if you’re exploring your fertility options, Healthline’s IVF guide is an excellent resource.