He was born prematurely as his dad lay dying of COVID-19. Now, he faces a new struggle.
LEXINGTON, Ky. — Wesson Keene was born premature and unresponsive in October 2020.
Weighing just 6 pounds when entered the world more than a month too soon, he had to be resuscitated for 15 minutes.
As he fought for his life on a breathing machine, Wesson's dad, Sgt. Michael Keene, became one of Kentucky's then-youngest COVID-19 fatalities.
Michael had spent 18 days in a Lexington intensive care unit. The Army veteran who did four tours in Iraq and Afghanistan noticed a sore throat on Oct. 4. Then came a fever of 104.5, fatigue, cold showers.
After several trips to hospitals, he went to the University of Kentucky Albert B. Chandler Hospital on Oct. 10 and stayed in the ICU there until he died on Oct. 28.
His wife, Nicole, worried about his PTSD as he lay in his hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and alone. But she couldn't be with him.
Two days before Michael died, Nicole's doctor told her he had to deliver the baby right away. She had an emergency cesarean section at Baptist Hospital and met baby Wesson briefly in the hallway as he was wheeled toward a recovery room and prepped for transfer to UK Chandler, where his dad was.
Nicole joined Wesson at UK the next day, too. She still couldn't tell her husband she had given birth. Doctors worried about what the news might do to him.
He never found out Wesson, whose first name is Michael, was born.
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A first year full of 'fog'
Surrounded by Christmas decorations on an early December day, now 1-year-old Wesson opened his right hand over and over to reach for a tiny orange ball beside him on the living room rug.
Finally, he gripped it for a second before it slipped from his fingers. His mother, Nicole, and therapist, Rebecca, cheered.
Each time he grips a toy, that's progress.
This summer, Wesson was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, a condition that affects his muscles and is caused by brain damage. His right side is the most affected, and he uses his left side more when he plays or Army crawls across the floor of his family's Lexington home.
When Wesson was born, there were signs of brain damage, but Nicole didn't know what that would mean for him.
"Wait and see," was the message she kept hearing.
The months after his birth and her husband's death were like a "fog," she said. She couldn’t bring herself to decorate last Christmas in the home she and Michael bought shortly before he died. The holiday season was their favorite, and he never got to celebrate it in that house.
“I did feel guilty for not … having that Christmas that we envisioned last year,” she said. “I just couldn't do it. Just the thought of even having it without him was debilitating.”
So, she focused on the grief and caring for Wesson and his older sister, Adalynn, 2.
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"We talk about Daddy all the time," Nicole said. "I don't think Wesson understands it, but my daughter does. She sees pictures and she says, 'My daddy is missing. …My daddy is lost. I miss my daddy.' I do tell her that he was sick. And he was in the hospital. And … he died. I don't lie to her about it. But she doesn't comprehend what I'm saying."
That fog started to lift this Halloween, she said.
She decided to decorate for the spooky holiday, and "it just kind of snowballed from there." Wesson dressed as Thor, his dad's favorite superhero. Adalynn dressed as Anna from Frozen.
After Halloween, Nicole decorated for Thanksgiving, then Christmas.
"It was hard, but it was easy," she said. Unpacking boxes of decorations prompted her to finish unpacking from the move and finally begin settling into her new home.
She put Santa and "Merry Everything" pillows on the couch. She hung stockings, put up a tree, strung lights.
"This year, with the holidays coming up, I just … committed to … having the Christmas that (my husband) envisioned for us in this house," Nicole said. "So, I think that just kind of motivated me."
She unpacked the rest of the boxes from their move, pulled out family photos.
"I've got to make this house feel like a home at this point," she remembered thinking. "I have to. For the kids."
Wesson's diagnosis
Wesson started missing milestones this year. His fists clenched at his chest. He couldn’t sit on his own or pull himself up to walk. He struggled with fine motor skills needed to pick up toys or bits of food.
His doctor told Nicole he had cerebral palsy in June. That he may never sit or walk on his own.
“When she told me that, I was not even prepared for that at all,” Nicole said, adding, “I literally felt like I couldn't hear anything anymore… I think (I) shut down at that point. And I didn't even cry until I left.”
In the hallway, she sat down and started “bawling my eyes out.” As a trained pediatric respiratory therapist, Nicole had worked with kids who had cerebral palsy in the past. She knew immediately the journey would be a challenge.
“Wow, this is huge,” she thought.
And it has been. Wesson is in therapy three days a week. Two of those sessions focus on playing, sitting and grabbing things. The third is for speech and eating.
Wesson doesn't speak yet, but doctors say his babbling is on point. He forms sounds like "dah" and "mah" but no full "dada" or "mama" yet.
During an in-home therapy session on Dec. 1, occupational therapist Rebecca Vellenoweth with Kentucky First Steps helped Wesson stand while leaning his back against the couch, his feet firmly on the floor. She lifted toys on his right side, his left and in front of him as he practiced leaning, reaching and grabbing them.
Exercises like this will teach him balance, multi-tasking and how to play in different positions. They'll also help with early communication, decision-making and mobility.
After the reaching exercise, Vellenoweth and Nicole worked on straightening Wesson's arms at the elbow and massaging his hands open.
"I'm hopeful that he will eventually sit," Nicole said.
As for now, she can't place him in the seat of a shopping cart at the grocery store — he can't quite hold himself up. He also needs extra support in the bath. He's reached the point where he needs specialized equipment — he's too big for seating assistants made for infants.
“I love him any way that God's given him to me," Nicole said, "but of course … I want him to be healthy and strong and have a good quality life.”
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Resilient Wesson
Wesson's smile is bright, sincere, sweet. His face turned joyful when his bumblebee toy hummed in front of him on the rug, when he looked at his mother, when he slapped the spinner toys stuck to the floor and watched a plastic ladybug go around and around.
"His dad had a smile like that, too," Nicole said. "It always reminds me of my husband."
Depending on what long-term treatment Wesson needs, Nicole may end up moving closer to Cincinnati Children's to work with its cerebral palsy team. But for now, everything is unpacked, the garage is organized, pictures hung.
Right before naptime, Wesson rested in a plastic bath seat on the rug as he pulled multicolored toys from a small white box. After several attempts with his right hand, he latched onto a little purple star and lifted it to his lips.
How to help:
The Keene family has a GoFundMe. See it here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/army-sgt-michael-keenes-battle-with-covid19.
Reach health reporter Sarah Ladd at sladd@courier-journal.com. Follow her on Twitter at @ladd_sarah.
This article originally appeared on Louisville Courier Journal: Baby whose dad died of COVID days after his birth faces cerebral palsy
