My husband and I lost our only child, Michael James Nole, to the ravages of E.Coli 0157:H7 incited hemolytic uremic syndrome.

 My son was born on December 9, 2025 a healthy 9lb 14 oz bundle of love.

 He died 25 months, 13 days later. In 12 days, USDA approved, E.Coli 0157:H7 contaminated, undercooked hamburger, that was in a children's meal purchased at a fast food restaurant that my son consumed rapidly led to H.U.S. and eventually, his death.

 All of the things my son went through were the most horrific things I have ever seen in my 8 years working in the medical field, and my most recent 2 years working in an Emergency Room.

 My son had bouts of diarrhea, which rapidly became runny, painful and eventually bloody....and later all blood.

 He was admitted to Mary Bridge Children's Hospital in Tacoma, Washington. I had no idea what was soon to follow.

 The bloody diarrhea continued throughout the night, every 3-5 minutes with screams of pain and terror with each one. We went through a diaper with each one because the blood burned his skin.

 In the morning, he was transferred to the pediatric I.C.U. unit. Unknown to us, there were already children there with E.Coli 0157:H7.

 By this time his kidneys had shut down and he was becoming very lethargic, his abdomen began to swell to an unbelievable size. He had hemorrhoids and was unable to eat or urinate.

 I remember the last time my husband and I saw our son responding and sitting up with our help. Due to his swollen tummy and tubes in his arms, he ate an orange popsicle and I kept trying to tell myself he was going to be okay.

 Dialysis was needed and the decision was made to transport him to a children's hospital in Seattle that had the machines for this purpose.

 Before they transported him I had asked to rock him in my arms in a chair next to his bed. With the help of 3 nurses and his physician, they carried him over to me with all of his tubes, IV's and other monitoring devices and set him in my arms.

 I rocked him and sang our favorite songs together. One of our favorites was "Jesus Loves Me". To this day, I cannot bear to hear this song.

 This was the last time I held my baby in my arms.

 He was transported to Children's Hospital in Seattle, I rode in the ambulance with him and two other transport nurses. We made the hour trip in 22 minutes.

 When we arrived we were whisked to Pediatric ICU where we were moved into a room with another child. I did not know at the time that this other child had the same horrific HUS that my son was experiencing.

 While they were setting up Michael in his bed, I went over to the little girl in the next bed. Her parents were out of the room and I wanted to say hello. As I approached her I noticed how recessed her eyes were, how pale her skin was and that she had many tubes and lines in her little body. I said "Hi, looks like we get to share a room with you, what is your name" She whispered in and airy voice "Brianne". This was Brianne Kiner.

 As the days went on and chest tubes were inserted in my baby, more IV's and lines poked in and out, blood drawn, and many other procedures done, his condition worsened, as did Brianne's.

 I met Briannes mom and dad, Suzanne and Rex. It was so indescribable to watch other parents go through this, we were sharing in something that words can not explain. But they know.

 Dialysis began for us, and I was certain that this is all he needed to survive and pull through this. I was very mistaken.

 Late one night, Brianne took a turn for the worse and she was whisked away to a private more 1 to 1 care room.

 Michael had dialysis one or two times a day. There were so many other children arriving daily that needed dialysis that the machines were becoming very popular. Nurses, physicians and all other specialists were working around the clock, many sleeping at the hospital to provide the best possible care for our children.

 As Michael's meds increased and tried to help his pains, things got even worse.

 The physicians thought we might lose him at several different times, and several times we were rushed in to say our last good-byes and prayers. This was so very painful.

 As our family members started to arrive to kiss his cheek and stroke his golden hair and say prayers I just sat back in complete helplessness, thinking "I'm his mommy...why can't I fix this? Make everything better? Trade him places?" This was such a hopeless, powerless feeling. After physicians noted he had red patches on his tummy, they thought something might have burst inside him. The suggestion was made to rush him into surgery to see if they could stop or identify the internal bleeding.

 Papers were signed and we kissed him good-bye one more time in the hallway on his way to surgery.

 I cannot remember how long it took......1,2,3, hours, seemed like 2 days.

 When he returned they said they "lost" him once during surgery but were able to revive him.

 When we were allowed to go in to see him he had an incision from his neck to his groin area. This was so difficult to see.

 He did not do well after this, he opened his eyes once, and we were able to see the blue of his eyes and barely a twinkle. I told him he was mommies big boy and that I would love him forever and someday would be with him forever in heaven. My husband and I spent several hours with him before he died. The nurses gave me a lock of his golden hair to cherish.

 I left the hospital with his blanket, shoes, choo-choo train, sweats I made for him, and a bag of toys.

 I miss my big boy.