My 11-Week-Old Son Died From Pneumonia: Carson’s Story

On April 13, 2023, my 11-week-old son, Carson Beau, died from pneumonia.

I don’t think there will ever be words big enough to explain what losing him did to me, my husband, our daughters, and the life we knew before that day.

But Carson’s story didn’t begin with his death.

He was our beautiful baby boy with chunky cheeks and a head full of dark hair. He was a little brother to two sisters who absolutely adored him. He spent 11 weeks being deeply loved, photographed, snuggled, and woven into our family before our lives changed forever.

I’ve shared pieces of his story over the years, but this is the full story of Carson’s life, the illness he experienced in the weeks before he died, the morning of his death, what we later learned from his autopsy, and what losing our son has looked like for our family.

This is an incredibly difficult story for me to tell, but I never want Carson to simply become “the baby we lost.”

He was here.

He was ours.

And his life mattered.

Finding Out Carson Was a Boy

I knew from the beginning that I wanted to have a gender reveal for this baby, and I originally wanted both Vince and me to be surprised again.

That didn’t exactly go according to plan.

Vince was way too antsy and wanted to know whether we were having a boy or a girl, so we eventually agreed that he could be the gender keeper while I waited to find out at the reveal.

When the day finally came, Vince poured paint over me to reveal that we were having a BOY!

After having two girls, we were officially adding a baby boy to our family.

Our Carson Beau. 💙

I still love having these videos to look back on because they captured such a happy and exciting season of our lives before we had any idea what was ahead.

Carson Beau

Vince and I had the hardest time agreeing on a boy name. Honestly, I don’t think either of us was prepared to actually have a boy after having two girls.

I already had a running list of girl names from my previous pregnancies, so if we were having another girl, naming her probably would have been easy.

But a boy? We had no idea.

Eventually, we agreed on Carson Beau.

I had always loved the name Carson for either a boy or a girl, and Vince chose his middle name, Beau.

On January 25, 2023, my dream of having a son finally came true.

Carson Beau was here.

He came out so chunky with a head full of dark hair, and he was absolutely perfect to me.

Shortly after he was born, though, we learned that he had fluid in his lungs and needed breathing support with CPAP. Because the hospital where I delivered didn’t have a NICU, Carson was transported to another hospital that was better equipped to care for him.

And because I had just undergone my third c-section, I couldn’t immediately go with him.

I finally got to visit Carson in the NICU and hold my baby boy for the first time the following day.

He spent three days in the NICU before we were finally able to bring him home.

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Carson and His Sisters

Carson came home from the NICU on January 28, 2023, and finally got to meet his two big sisters.

At the time, Keni was only 11 months old, and Emi was 2, just a couple of months away from turning 3.

The girls were absolutely in love with their new baby brother.

Even though Keni was still so little herself, she was always so affectionate with Carson. Looking back at pictures of the three of them together and watching the videos I took during those 11 weeks is incredibly bittersweet. I am so thankful I captured so many little moments between them because those photos and videos are some of the most precious things I have now.

Emi was old enough when Carson died that she remembers her baby brother.

She still talks about him, draws pictures of him, and knows that Carson went to Heaven to be with Jesus. Watching her grieve and try to understand the loss of her brother at such a young age has been another part of child loss I never could have prepared myself for.

I’ve shared pieces of Emi’s grief and the way she continues to remember Carson on my YouTube and Instagram because child loss didn’t only happen to Vince and me.

His sisters lost their baby brother, too.

The ER Trip

On March 30, 2023, Vince and I noticed that the inside of Carson’s right leg looked red and inflamed. At first, it honestly looked like a bug bite.

But Carson was also running a fever and wasn’t eating like he normally did, so we decided to take him to the emergency room.

I’m so thankful we trusted our instincts and took him in.

After we arrived, they drew blood and we learned that Carson was septic. We were told his organs were being affected, and he needed a higher level of care than that hospital could provide.

Carson was transported by ambulance to the same hospital where he had stayed after he was born, this time because they had a PICU—a pediatric intensive care unit.

What we originally thought was a bug bite on his inner thigh turned out to be an abscess with cellulitis, a bacterial infection involving the deeper layers of the skin.

What looked like such a small spot on his leg had become something much more serious.

Carson’s Hospital Stay

That evening, March 30, I met Carson at the other hospital, where he was admitted to the PICU.

Around 10 p.m., he was taken into emergency surgery. The doctor placed a drain in his thigh to help drain the infection and pus from the abscess.

For the next few days, our hospital room became our entire world.

Doctors and medical students came in and out to check on him. His nurses gave him medications, monitored his vital signs, cared for his drain, and gave him a sitz bath.

I stayed right there with him.

I was terrified that I was going to lose my baby. I felt like I held my breath throughout that entire hospital stay, watching every monitor, listening to every update, and just waiting for someone to tell me that my baby was going to be okay.

At that point in my life, I didn’t really have a relationship with God. I wasn’t someone who knew how to turn to Him in moments like this. I was simply a terrified mom who wanted her baby to get better so I could take him home.

On March 31, Carson’s lab results came back positive for MRSA. Then, on April 1, he tested positive for rhinovirus.

By the afternoon of April 2, Carson was discharged from the hospital.

He had just fought sepsis, undergone emergency surgery under general anesthesia, tested positive for MRSA and rhinovirus, and he was only a little over 9 weeks old. He had also needed breathing support shortly after birth.

Looking back, his discharge is one of the parts of Carson’s story that I still struggle with deeply.

No additional blood work or chest X-ray was done before we went home. At the time, I had no idea that we would lose Carson just 11 days later or that nearly six months after his death, his autopsy results would tell us that his cause of death was pneumonia.

Knowing what I know now, I have replayed those days in my head more times than I could ever count. I have wondered whether additional testing, imaging, or monitoring could have caught something earlier. I have wondered whether everything his little body had just gone through played a role in what happened next.

Those are questions I still carry as his mom.

On April 4, the pediatrician who had been caring for Carson asked me to meet him at the children’s emergency room so he could assess Carson’s drain and remove it.

When we arrived, however, an ER doctor who was working that day evaluated Carson and removed the drains instead.

No additional testing was done, and we were sent home.

The Morning of My Son’s Death

The morning of April 13, 2023, was such a good morning.

My three babies and I sat around the dining room table eating breakfast. I fed Carson while the girls ate, and we just enjoyed a slow morning together at home.

After breakfast, I put Carson in his swing while I cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. He looked so cute sitting there that I stopped and took a few pictures of him.

I had no idea those would be some of the last pictures I would ever take of my son.

After he had some time to digest his milk, I put him down for tummy time and took another picture.

That picture would end up being the last photo I have of Carson alive on my phone.

Later that day, Vince came home from work and spent some time with the kids. When it was time for Carson’s nap, Vince laid him down to sleep and then came outside to the garage where the girls and I were.

It felt like a completely normal day.

We had no idea our lives were about to change forever.

The Call

I left the house that afternoon to pick up Chipotle for dinner.

I was standing in line, my food already ordered and ready to pay for, when my phone rang.

It was my mother-in-law.

She was out of breath, and all she could get out was, “Nahyun, you need to get home now. Your son’s not breathing.”

I immediately felt sick to my stomach.

We lived about 35 minutes from everything, but I turned my hazard lights on and drove home as fast as I could.

The entire drive home, I had no idea what I was about to pull up to. I knew Carson wasn’t breathing, but I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t know what Vince had found. I didn’t know if Carson was okay. I didn’t know anything.

When I finally pulled up to our house, there was an ambulance outside.

I saw Vince walking toward the front porch completely distraught. He hugged me and just kept saying, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I still didn’t understand what was happening, but hearing him say those words made me feel physically sick.

We walked inside the house, and suddenly I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran back outside and vomited.

I was terrified, confused, and in complete denial that this could actually be happening to our baby.

The ambulance had already taken Carson to the closest hospital. Once we gathered ourselves enough to leave, Vince and I got into the car and drove there in complete silence.

I don’t even remember what was going through my mind during that drive. I was in complete shock and had no idea what we were about to walk into when we got to the hospital.

At that point in my life, turning to God wasn’t something that even crossed my mind.

I just wanted my baby to be okay.

The Waiting Room

When we got to the hospital, we checked in at the front and someone took us to a private waiting room away from the main waiting area.

Immediately, something didn’t feel right.

It was just Vince and me sitting in that room, crying and waiting for someone to tell us what was happening with our baby.

When a nurse came in, I asked if I could see Carson.

She told me they didn’t allow parents to see babies in “that state.”

I didn’t understand what that meant. I didn’t care. I just kept begging her to let me see my son.

Eventually, she did.

I walked into the room and saw my 11-week-old baby lying there gray and lifeless while nurses performed chest compressions on him.

The second I saw him, I fell to my knees.

I cried out to God and begged Him for a miracle.

Please save my baby.

Please don’t let him die.

Why him? Why couldn’t it be me?

Somehow, I got myself back up and walked over to Carson. I reached for his little hand and held it while they continued trying to bring him back.

His hand was cold.

I will never forget that feeling.

Looking back, there is something about that moment that stays with me. I was so far from God at that point in my life. I wasn’t walking with Him. I wasn’t seeking Him. Truthfully, I hardly thought about Him.

But the moment I saw my baby lying there, I fell to my knees and cried out to Him.

Sometimes I think about how I begged God for the biggest miracle of my life when I had spent so much of my life living far away from Him.

I didn’t know God then the way I know Him now.

And I had no idea that in the years following Carson’s death, I would come to need Him more than I ever thought possible.

Eventually, I became so overwhelmed that they escorted me back into the private waiting room.

I felt like I wanted to die.

They were still trying to save Carson, but after seeing him, something inside of me already knew.

My baby was gone.

“I Am So Sorry”

Trigger warning: This section includes photos of Vince and me holding Carson after he had passed away.

The next thing I remember is the ER physician walking into the waiting room.

He looked at us and said the words no parent should ever have to hear:

“I am so sorry.”

He told us they had done everything they could, but they couldn’t bring Carson back.

I remember him saying something along the lines of, “Things like this happen.”

Are you kidding me?

Things like this don’t just happen.

Not to my baby. Not to my 11-week-old son who I had just fed breakfast that morning. Not to the baby I had taken pictures of just hours before.

I couldn’t accept it.

No.

There had to be something else they could do.

Try again. Do something else. Please bring my baby back.

Eventually, they brought us back into the room to see Carson one last time.

A nurse asked me, “Would you like to hold your son one last time?”

Those words still hurt to think about.

One last time.

Vince and I each held Carson. I held my baby knowing that eventually I was going to have to hand him back, walk out of that hospital, and leave without him.

I didn’t want to let him go.

I wanted to hold him forever.

Eventually, we had to leave.

I remember walking out to our car and feeling sick all over again. I had to vomit.

Vince was sick. I was sick. We were both in complete disbelief.

That morning, we had woken up with three children.

Just a few hours later, we were leaving the hospital without our son.

I can’t tell you what I thought about on the drive home.

I don’t remember the drive at all.

After My Son’s Death

Not long after we got home from the hospital, the coroner and sheriff’s deputies arrived at our house.

We had barely walked through the door after losing our son, and suddenly we were being asked questions about what happened and everything leading up to Carson’s death.

I couldn’t believe how quickly everything was happening.

The deputies separated Vince and me and questioned us individually about what had happened that day. They took the sheet Carson had been sleeping on, and the coroner spoke with us together and asked more questions.

Then he asked if we wanted Carson to have an autopsy.

For us, the answer was obvious. We needed to know what happened to our baby.

The coroner explained that Carson would be transported to another city for the autopsy and then brought back so he could be prepared for a funeral service.

Then we were told we needed to choose a funeral home.

I had just held my 11-week-old son for the last time, and now we were being asked to decide where to send his body and how we wanted to bury him.

None of it felt real.

Once we chose a funeral home, we would let the coroner know and then be connected with the funeral director to begin planning Carson’s service.

We went from being parents taking care of our baby that morning to parents planning his funeral that night.

Carson’s Memorial Service

On April 17, 2023, just four days after Carson died, Vince and I met with the funeral director to make arrangements for our son’s memorial service.

We brought the outfit we wanted Carson to wear for his open casket. The funeral home suggested that we also bring a hat because of the condition of his head after the autopsy.

I still can’t believe these were decisions we were having to make for our 11-week-old baby.

We also had to choose an urn for his ashes.

The woman helping us assured us that the small urn we chose would be big enough to hold all of Carson’s ashes.

It wasn’t.

When we eventually received Carson’s ashes, some were inside the little urn we had chosen for him, and the rest were in a clear bag inside a box.

I don’t think anything prepares you for receiving your baby’s ashes like that.

Carson’s memorial service was held on April 20, 2023.

One week earlier, my son was alive.

Now I was choosing what he would wear in his casket, what songs would play at his funeral, and how we would celebrate a life that had only just begun.

Pictures by Samantha Meza Photography

So many people showed up for Carson that day.

We had friends fly in and drive from different states just to be there with us. People we hadn’t seen in a long time showed up to support our family and honor our baby boy.

The sermon was uplifting, and even in one of the darkest moments of our lives, we were surrounded by so much love.

I’m incredibly grateful for everyone who showed up for Carson and for us.

But no matter how beautiful the service was or how loved we felt that day, it was still a day I wish we never had to experience.

No parent should ever have to plan a funeral for their baby.

Carson’s Autopsy Report

Then came the waiting.

Months went by without any answers from Carson’s autopsy.

The night Carson died, the coroner told us that autopsy results for babies could sometimes come back sooner, but that it could take up to six months.

So we waited.

As the months passed, Vince and I started to wonder if his cause of death would be something other than SIDS because of how long the process was taking.

Nearly six months after Carson died, we finally received his autopsy report.

Carson’s cause of death was pneumonia.

I couldn’t believe it.

After everything his little body had gone through in the weeks before his death—the sepsis, MRSA, rhinovirus, emergency surgery, and hospital stay—we finally had an answer.

But having an answer didn’t bring the peace I thought it might.

Instead, it left me with even more questions.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his hospitalization. I couldn’t stop wondering if there had been signs we didn’t know about or if something could have been caught sooner.

For six months, we wondered why our seemingly healthy 11-week-old baby suddenly stopped breathing.

Now we finally knew what took our son from us.

Pneumonia.

My Thoughts On His Death

When we finally received Carson’s autopsy report, I didn’t know how to feel.

So many thoughts flooded my head at once.

But one of the biggest was guilt.

I should have asked for more blood work.

I should have asked for a chest X-ray.

Maybe I should have pushed for him to stay in the hospital longer.

Why didn’t I just hold him for his nap that day?

Was there something I could have done differently?

Could I have prevented my son’s death?

Those questions consumed me.

April 13, 2023, didn’t just change one day of our lives. It changed our entire family.

It changed our marriage. It changed Vince. It changed me. And it changed our girls.

I knew Vince was the one who went to wake Carson from his nap and found him unresponsive. He had to perform CPR on our own baby while waiting for help to arrive.

But I later learned that our oldest daughter, Emi, had been right there with them.

While Vince was performing CPR on her baby brother, she was petting Carson’s head and telling him, “It’s okay.”

That is something that absolutely breaks me.

I hate that we lost our son.

I hate that my husband had to experience the trauma of finding our baby unresponsive and performing CPR on him.

I hate that our daughter was there and witnessed something no child should ever have to see.

I hate that this became part of our family’s story.

And I still struggle deeply with the medical care Carson received in the weeks leading up to his death.

He was only 9 weeks old when he was hospitalized with sepsis. He had MRSA, tested positive for rhinovirus, underwent emergency surgery under general anesthesia, and had a history of needing breathing support shortly after birth.

Then, less than two weeks after being discharged, our 11-week-old son died.

Six months later, we learned his cause of death was pneumonia.

Knowing that left me with questions I still carry today.

I have wondered countless times whether additional blood work, chest imaging, a longer hospital stay, or closer follow-up could have changed the outcome.

I wish I had known then what I know now. I wish I had asked more questions. I wish I had pushed harder when something didn’t feel right.

But I was his mom.

I wasn’t his doctor.

I trusted that my baby was okay to come home.

And learning how to live with all of those unanswered questions has been another part of grieving my son.

Life After Losing Carson

Just nine days after Carson’s drain was removed, our baby boy went down for a nap and never woke up.

He was only 11 weeks old.

Carson’s death didn’t just affect Vince and me individually. It changed our entire family.

It changed our marriage. It changed the way we parent our girls. It changed our daughters, especially Emi, who was old enough to remember her baby brother and experience her own grief.

It affected our friends, our extended family, and a community of people who loved Carson and showed up for us when our world completely fell apart.

And for a long time after Carson died, I was angry.

I was angry at God. I questioned Him. I couldn’t understand how He could allow me to lose my baby and then expect me to somehow keep living.

The truth is, when Carson died, I didn’t really know Jesus.

I knew of Him, but I wasn’t walking with Him. I wasn’t living my life surrendered to Him. And in the years following Carson’s death, I tried to survive my grief in just about every way except by turning to God.

But eventually, when I reached the lowest point of my life, Jesus met me there.

That’s a much bigger part of my testimony that deserves its own story, but I can look back now and see that God was near even when I didn’t know how to look for Him.

Losing Carson is still the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Following Jesus didn’t take away my grief, and it didn’t make me stop missing my son.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Carson.

I miss his chunky cheeks. I miss his dark hair. I miss holding him. I miss watching his sisters love on their baby brother. I miss the life we should have gotten to live with him.

But I don’t believe that hospital room was the end of Carson’s story anymore.

Because of Jesus, I have hope beyond this life.

I believe my sweet baby boy is with Him, and I believe there will come a day when I get to see my son again.

Until then, I will keep saying his name.

Carson Beau.

He was here. He was deeply loved. He is still deeply loved.

And he will always be our son.

Thank you for being here and taking the time to read our baby’s story. It means more to me than you know.