She was a healthy, beautiful wife and mother to my two young grandsons, who were 3 and 7 at the time of her death. Julia died from toxic shock syndrome (TSS) caused by Group A Strep.
Julia had outpatient surgery on a Friday morning in January 2023 to remove endometriosis. By Monday morning, she had developed severe sepsis.
When she arrived at the emergency room, she was in systemic organ failure. She was immediately intubated and placed on dialysis. She had what felt like countless IVs, a blood transfusion, and an emergency hysterectomy, during which the doctor removed three liters of infection. She underwent three additional surgeries in the following days, and more infection was removed each time.
On Wednesday, the doctors gathered our family and told us she had a 5% chance of living. They also said that if she did survive, she would likely lose all four limbs and her tongue.
With the support of our family, my son-in-law made the heartbreaking decision to remove her from life support less than one week after what had been a routine surgery.
Thirty-three people gathered in her ICU room on a cold, snowy Thursday morning to pray, sing, and say goodbye.
Julia also had necrotizing fasciitis, and the skin on her face and arms turned black. Because of that, my son-in-law made the difficult decision not to allow my grandsons to come to the hospital to say goodbye to their sweet mamma.
After Julia arrived at the hospital on Monday morning, she never spoke, moved, or opened her eyes again.
Of course, you know what it feels like when your world stops turning. It stops while everyone else keeps living and doing. I lost one of my two babies.
I laid in the fetal position for two weeks, and I thought about leaving this world.
But my husband and my grandchildren (I also have six other grandchildren and step-grandchildren) kept whispering to me in my dreams that my work here on earth was not done.
I am a special education teacher, so I went back to work to stay alive and face the world with a different perspective.
The sun and the stars were brighter. The flowers appeared more colorful, and the skies were bluer. Every night for a year, I sat outside in the dark and looked to the southwest skies.
Each night, from the same chair, through my tears and prayers, I saw a pink glow appear between the tall trees in the distance and then disappear seconds later. It happened nearly every night for almost a year.
I knew it was my sweet Julia coming to say hello. But I did not understand the color pink, because her favorite color was teal.
Then one day it hit me. Pink is the color of sepsis, and I knew what she was telling me to do.
In July 2024, my son-in-law and I started a nonprofit organization in Northeast Indiana (Fort Wayne): The Julia Lee Bloom Nonprofit Organization for Increasing Sepsis Awareness.
