tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49369616332405129402024-03-19T00:39:36.113-07:00Dance Amidst the StormUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-15062543377465508872016-08-10T22:38:00.001-07:002016-08-10T22:38:53.507-07:00Our boyWhen a heart has been shattered into a million pieces, is it possible for those pieces to fit back together?<br />
<br />
One by one, I start the process. Sometimes a piece doesn't quite fit, so I try again the next day.<br />
<br />
I believe with all my heart that God loves me. I know it, but I also believe it. He planned to have this perfect boy join our family. He just had to get here a different way.<br />
<br />
The tears we shed and the joy we feel is indescribable. After a few months of talking with an amazing woman, we are told that we have been chosen. Chosen to be the parents of another child of God. Chosen to love and raise this boy with compassion. This boy. This angel.<br />
<br />
My heart swells at the thought. Am I really going to have another baby this soon? Am I <i>ready</i>? In a way, I've never been more ready for anything. But there's a part of me that is terrified to open my heart. The pain of having my heart torn from me time and time again has left me fragile and apprehensive. But without love, without vulnerability, am I really living?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-65059242149955069232016-01-27T10:27:00.000-08:002016-01-27T10:27:30.972-08:00AdoptionA few days after we deliver our sweet little Grace, we talk about the possibility of adopting a baby. The idea fills my soul with warmth. This feeling continues to grow as the days pass, and I can't deny the fact that we are now meant to include an adopted baby into our family. But immediately the questions start.<br />
<br />
<i>How long will it take?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Will people think we are trying to replace our other babies?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Am I just trying to fill this giant hole in my heart?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What if nobody chooses us?</i><br />
<br />
As quickly as the worries begin, they subside. That feeling of warmth fills me up again, and I know, as much as I know anything, that we are meant to adopt.<br />
<br />
Tyler and I fly into action. We sit down and put an adoption blog together, research various agencies, and start to spread the word about our intentions.<br />
<br />
I know there is a selfless amazing woman out there who is searching for us. Our hearts beat with the same love, the same goal. Now we just need to find each other.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-24726753146773054242015-09-21T23:27:00.000-07:002016-01-27T10:28:42.961-08:00Will's roomI walk past Will's bedroom door and notice that it's open. My heart skips a beat and I quickly shut the door. I'm not ready. I just can't bring myself to go into his room. Not yet. I'm not ready to see his clothes, touch his blankets, see all of his supplies and diapers stacked, ready to use.<br />
<br />
I just <i>can't</i>.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-42869253849663920712015-09-08T22:49:00.003-07:002015-09-08T22:49:28.128-07:00January 2015<i>Have you ever been swimming in the ocean? Sometimes when you're out in the fierce pounding of the waves, it's hard to catch your breath. Sometimes, when you are underneath the briny sea, you can see the bright light shining above you. You know which way to swim to allow your hungry lungs fill with air. But the instant before your head surfaces, another wave comes crashing down, pushing you underneath the black water.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Down, down, down, till you feel your body hit the bottom.</i><br />
<br />
Three weeks after we bury our baby Will, I go into the doctor to get an ultrasound. I am 21 weeks along with our baby girl. The thought of this sweet angel coming to the world has kept me hanging on. So when the ultrasound tech leaves the room after only a few moments, I feel like my head has been forced under water. Our little one has gone back to her Heavenly Father, before she could even take a breath.<br />
<br />
Another delivery, another casket.<br />
<br />
How can I go on?<br />
<br />
I hold my white flag high. I beg my Savior to take this from me. Take this pain. Take these tears. Take this heartache that I cannot bear.<br />
<br />
And He does.<br />
<br />
I make it another day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-12780186255097017232015-05-31T23:53:00.001-07:002015-05-31T23:53:45.168-07:00That nightI stand by the front door holding my baby Will close. The medical examiner standing on the porch extending his arms toward me. I know what I need to do but don't know if I can do it. It's time to place my precious boy into the arms of a stranger, watch as he carries him away, then places him in his truck. My arms instinctively tighten around Will's body and my heart feels like it's being ripped out. The medical examiner patiently waits as a battle continues in my mind. My head tells me it's time to let him go, but my heart won't accept it. Tyler puts a hand on my back as I secure Will's blanket around him and finally place him in the man's waiting arms. He promises to be gentle. He promises to keep him warm in his blanky. But I can hardly hear what he's saying. I turn around as the door closes and Tyler envelops me in a tight embrace. We stand there together clinging to each other. The enormity of what has happened crashes down on us.<br />
<br />
Our sweet boy is gone.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-87663760020377041702015-05-10T01:19:00.002-07:002015-05-11T23:11:06.512-07:00December 27th 2014<i>Every time I sit down to write this post, my fingers stay frozen on the keyboard and my mind is blank. I long to convey the smallest portion of my heart, but my words are inadequate. My heart is overflowing with unspoken emotions. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I fear it will burst.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
December 27 2014<br />
<br />
I press his warm body next to mine and hold him tight. The end is close. So close.<br />
<br />
Tyler calls Brigham and Lucie into the room to say goodbye. They slowly come in and my heart feels so heavy. I don't want to say what we have to say. I don't want to be here in this moment. But sometimes we have to do hard things we don't want to do. So we tell them that it's time for Will to go home. We tell them he gets to go be with Molly and Sam. I say the words. I hear them coming out of my mouth, but it doesn't seem real.<br />
<br />
The five of us sit together on the bed and take turns telling Will how much we love him, how much we'll miss him. We all sing lullabies and cradle him and stroke his hair. We cry and kiss and speak words of love. We talk about our favorite memories with him and laugh, then cry again. Then it's time for me and Tyler to be alone with our sweet one. We don't want Lucie and Brigham in the room when he passes.<br />
<br />
The door closes behind the kids as they leave. The sound of Will's labored breathing fills the bedroom and I suddenly feel as if my lungs can't get enough air. I hold him closer and nuzzle my nose in his neck. I breathe in his sweet smell and wish I could freeze this moment forever. I suddenly can't take it anymore and ask Tyler to turn on some music. We turn on The Lamb of God by Rob Gardner and I instantly feel better. There is a sweet peace in the room and I imagine all of the angels surrounding our warrior to welcome him home.<br />
<br />
He fights to the end. Every last breath.<br />
<br />
And that's who Will is. He's a fighter. He's our warrior. But, as one of Will's nurses said, "sometimes little soldiers get tired, and that's OK."<br />
<br />
So we tell him it's OK. We tell him that Mommy and Daddy will be OK. We hold him so tight and whisper to him, "It's Ok to go. We'll see you soon. It's OK to rest."<br />
<br />
As he takes his last breath, he lets out an adorable classic "Will yawn".<br />
<br />
And then he's gone.<br />
<br />
I look at our baby who has just been welcomed by so many loved ones, and I think he's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. My chest hurts with the love I have for him. Coupled with that love, is the love I feel for the One who has made it possible for us to be with Will again.<br />
<br />
I try to hold onto this peace, this light surrounding us as we hold our baby Will. I know we'll be with him again.<br />
<br />
I <i>know</i> it.<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-51828930269782922292014-12-26T17:59:00.003-08:002014-12-26T17:59:59.399-08:00December 26thI wonder if it's possible for a heart to actually break. Tears flow freely as I hold my little soldier against my chest. As I feel Will's struggled breath, the thought of him suffering one more day is almost unbearable. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I brush my lips against his feverish forehead and begin the second verse to my favorite lullaby. The desire to take his pain away is overwhelming. How can a mother sit and watch her child suffer and struggle? The tears don't stop as I begin a second lullaby. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Oh my heart.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How long will this last? When will he take his final breath? People say not to worry about the future and just enjoy each day with him. But how can I enjoy each day as he fights for each breath? All I want is for the suffering to stop. I only care for his comfort. I whisper an urgent prayer and plead with Heavenly Father to take his pain away, and to comfort his soul.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel breathless as I finish my prayer. I can't get enough air. Thoughts of Molly's last moments flood my mind and I start to panic. I try to focus all my energy on Will and his comfort. I want what's best for him, and if that means that I have to let him go be with the Savior, then I will do it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I will do it because of the intense and pure love I have for him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just don't know <i>how</i> I will do it. I pray with everything inside me that I will have the courage and strength.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-50372565261478097092014-11-13T00:59:00.000-08:002014-11-13T01:15:05.993-08:002 yearsCan it really be 2 years since my Molly was born?<br />
<br />
I glance at Will and watch as he struggles to breathe. It's a little bit ironic to be here in the hospital as Will fights the nasty effects of pneumonia as I'm thinking of my Molly's lost battle with this brutal sickness.<br />
<br />
A part of me, of course, wonders, "Is this the end for him?" After all, we've seen this before and it didn't turn out. I try to ward off anymore negative thinking and blanket my mind with warm thoughts.<br />
<br />
It doesn't seem to be working at the moment.<br />
<br />
Will's alarm goes off and I glance at the sat monitor. He's on high flow oxygen and his little body fights for each raspy breath. His alarm stops beeping as he fights just a little bit harder.<br />
<br />
I glance at the other equipment surrounding his metal crib. IV pole with fluids, feeding pump, the infamous "blue bag", and suction tubes snake out of the wall, with their never ending noise.<br />
<br />
I take everything in and am startled to realize how familiar and "normal" it all seems. Sad, but true.<br />
<br />
My mind wanders back to Molly and I feel a small pang in the middle of my chest. It's amazing how intense the ache can be, even after 2 years, and even though I'm holding another baby. I think that's one of the misconceptions of losing a baby. I love all my children completely, intensely, individually. Just like every mother does.<br />
<br />
Today is Molly's birthday. Today my baby girl would've been 2 years old. And today, I ask my Molly to watch over Will, to be his guardian angel.<br />
<br />
I can think of no greater thing for Will than to have his big sister by his side as he fights the same illness that took her home.<br />
<br />
Happy birthday, sweet one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-2754679253022524092014-11-13T00:58:00.002-08:002014-11-13T23:52:09.676-08:00July 6th continued..<i>July 6th</i><br />
<br />
The kind lady behind the desk calls my name. For some reason it sounds strange coming from her mouth. I follow her to another waiting room. This one is small and private. This one is where the Doctor sits with you and reviews the surgery.<br />
<br />
"There was more damage to Will's stomach than we originally thought," she says. She then goes through the surgery with me. I nod every few seconds, like everything she is saying makes perfect sense. But it's hard to focus on the words pouring from her mouth. She finally tells me I can go see Will.<br />
<br />
Will. My little hero. I am in awe of his strength. His strong spirit inspires me every day. <br />
<br />
I quietly enter his room just as the respiratory therapist is listening to his lungs. She takes her time, moving her stethoscope to the proper positions on his chest. She glances at me and gives a quick smile. I stride over to Will's side and place my hand on his. I look at his face and notice there are tears streaming down his cheeks into his ears. His face is scrunched up and I can tell he is in pain.<br />
<br />
"Do you know if he's been given something for the pain," I ask the nurse.<br />
<br />
"We just gave him a dose of fentanyl."<br />
<br />
I feel my temperature rise as I recall conversations earlier in the day. I specifically told several people, including nurses, Doctors, and the anesthesiologist, that fentanyl doesn't affect Will.<br />
<br />
"Fentanyl doesn't work for Will," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "He needs something else."<br />
<br />
"Fentanyl is actually more powerful than morphine, honey," says the nurse.<br />
<br />
<i>Honey? </i>Why is it that because I'm <i>just </i>the mother, I apparently don't know what I'm talking about?<br />
<br />
I take a deep breath and explain his history. "I'm not sure if it's because he got it so much in the NICU, but it <i>does not </i>affect him."<br />
<br />
"Well," she says, with an air of superiority, "Let's just give him a chance, then maybe we'll switch to the fentanyl drip if he seems like he needs it."<br />
<br />
I look at her in disbelief as she moves out of the room. Seriously?!<br />
<br />
I turn my attention back on Will and my heart does a little flip. He gags on his breathing tube, furrows his little brow, gags again, and more tears start to appear. The helpless feeling that comes over me is overpowering. I put my face close to his so he can smell me and know I am there. I softly stroke his arm, careful to go around his IV. I whisper a prayer and plead for his relief.<br />
<br />
An hour later, my prayer is answered. The doctor strolls in, completing her rounds. I pounce on her as she comes through the door and tell her that Will needs something other than Fentanyl. She takes one look at his scrunched up face and agrees.<br />
<br />
Will drifts to sleep and rests for the next two days. We take him home a few days after that and it's like we've been given a new baby. He's not turning blue anymore! One more hurdle down, and feeling very grateful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-39590465501129989302014-09-27T00:25:00.000-07:002014-09-27T00:25:03.465-07:00July 6th 2014The alarm goes off, piercing the peacefulness in the air. I run over to where Will is laying on the floor and quickly roll him to his side. Formula comes flowing freely from his mouth, a river of white froth. I grab the suctioning equipment and swiftly swipe his mouth.<br />
<br />
This shouldn't be happening.<br />
<br />
And yet it is. Over and over.<br />
<br />
After his Nissen Fundoplication surgery, he wasn't supposed to reflux. Something is wrong.<br />
<br />
I call the nurse and explain what's happening. As I go through the events of the day, I can hardly believe the words tumbling out of my mouth.<br />
<br />
"He's thrown up several times and can't breathe. He's turned blue a few times and we've have to bag him to get him breathing again. Every time we sit him up, he stops breathing."<br />
<br />
The nurse hesitates for a moment, trying to process my words. "I need to advise you to call an ambulance."<br />
<br />
I tell her that we're not calling an ambulance, that we'll just bring him in. I think she is surprised that I'm so calm and matter-of-fact about everything. I think I'm just used to this kind of thing, sad as it is.<br />
<br />
We arrive at the hospital and get checked in to our luxurious ER room. And we wait. And wait. And wait some more.<br />
<br />
Finally a doctor comes in. Should I be concerned that the name on his badge says Dr Hurt? Yikes.<br />
<br />
He looks Will over and thinks he looks fine. I explain what has been happening. When I get to the part where 'Will can't breathe when we sit him up.. he does better lying down,' the Doctor says, "Well with reflux they actually do better sitting up."<br />
<br />
Really? I didn't know that. After 6 months of dealing with the most severe reflux possible, I've never heard of this. (This goes through my mind in a very sarcastic voice)<br />
<br />
The words that come out instead are, "Yeah, I know it doesn't make much sense. That's why we think something is wrong."<br />
<br />
He agrees we need to run some tests.<br />
<br />
The nurse comes in after what seems like an eternity and tells us we're going to be admitted into our room now. It's 5 a.m.<br />
<br />
After we settle into our extra luxurious hospital room, I feel like I'm going to pass out. The exhaustion from the last few days hits me and my eyes droop as if someone is pulling them down.<br />
<br />
I look at Will in his enormous bed. His chest rises and falls with each fighting breath. I glance at the clock, then back at Will again. I need sleep. I make a split second decision and conclude that I need to go home, sleep, and get a few things for our hospital stay.<br />
<br />
As I drive home from the hospital, my mind is a blank and it's all I can do to keep my eyes open. My head hits the pillow. I can't remember falling asleep. I only remember waking to the sound of my ringtone. It's a cheerful tune, one that reminds me of bbqs on lazy summer days. It seems to contradict my current mood.<br />
<br />
I clear my throat and answer, trying to sound as if I haven't been sleeping. It's the Doctor.<br />
<br />
"We need to do surgery asap. His Nissen wrap slipped. Half of his stomach is above the wrap and half is below. It could be cutting off blood supply to his stomach."<br />
<br />
My mind reels as we finish our call. I feel anxiety about another surgery, especially so soon. But I also feel relief. I was so afraid we would take Will in and they would tell us that everything looks great. Then what would we do?<br />
<br />
I quickly gather a few things, stop and get a sandwich, and arrive at the hospital in record time. I enter his room just as the nurses are coming to get him for surgery. My heart does a little flip as I watch them put my baby in the transport and wheel him down the hallway.<br />
<br />
I can't help but think, "Is this it?" I hate that this thought enters my mind. But I can't help it.<br />
<br />
I get to the surgery waiting room and my palms are already damp. The doctor didn't know how long surgery would take. 'It depends on how much damage has been done,' she said.<br />
<br />
I glance around the room at the other people waiting for results. My eyes move from one somber face to another and I imagine their precious ones somewhere beyond those metal double doors. I suddenly feel a deep connection to these strangers as we wait together in this cold room. I say a quick prayer of comfort for them and their families.<br />
<br />
I wait and wait. I picture my sweet boy in the operating room and wonder, 'What will this day bring?'Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-46612685166415826702014-06-30T11:00:00.003-07:002014-06-30T15:27:28.084-07:00RestSometimes I feel defeated.<br />
<br />
The past few days have been flooded with a heaviness I can't seem to shake.<br />
<br />
The heaviness in my heart is from a combination of thoughts. Thoughts of the future, wondering if my milk production will start to increase, wondering if the doctors are right about Will, or if we should hold on to the hope that he'll progress. But the thought at the forefront is the deep regret that one of the people I'm closest with doesn't want contact with me anymore. The reasons are still unclear, but it is clear that my heart is breaking.<br />
<br />
A scripture has been rolling around in my mind. It's in Matthew Ch 11.<br />
<span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.<br /><br />30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.<br />
<br />
How do I give my burdens to the Savior? How do I let it all go? How can I raise my flag and surrender? For some reason, I keep holding on to these worries. I still have faith that someday these worries will be swept away in His love. <br />
<br />
But right now I <i>desperately</i> need rest for my soul. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-78267297878370828692014-06-22T15:18:00.003-07:002014-06-22T15:18:44.222-07:00Tolerating feedsSurrendering to the Savior is a daily choice.<br />
<br />
I sit here watching Will struggle as he gags and retches, then attempts to catch his breath. An alarm goes off and the nurse runs in, gives him a few puffs of oxygen, then exits the room. My heart breaks and I feel so very helpless.<br />
<br />
His fundoplication and G tube surgery was 3 days ago. And now he isn't tolerating his feeds. His tummy isn't used to getting food. He's always been fed past his stomach, in the jejunum. The doctors don't really seem to know how to proceed. And neither do I.<br />
<br />
During the shift change, I listen in as the nurse reviews his history. My heart starts to race as she goes down the list.<br />
<br />
Microcephaly<br />
Bilateral Congenital Hip Displasia (both hips are out of socket and need surgery)<br />
Neurological impairment<br />
Cerebral Palsy<br />
GERD<br />
Cast on left food to correct malformation<br />
Recent Fundoplication surgery<br />
G tube<br />
1/4 liter oxygen<br />
problems swallowing<br />
<br />
I start to tear up and wonder how much more one little baby can take.<br />
<br />
But then I look at him and he looks at me. I'm so blessed to be his momma. As hard as this is, I am grateful to be able to walk this sacred path with him, where angels are continually surrounding him.<br />
<br />
I want him to come home. But first he needs to tolerate food in his tummy.<br />
<br />
I know that if we all pray for this, it will happen.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I know it.</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-30774778099324401092014-06-16T22:58:00.002-07:002014-06-16T22:58:49.103-07:00Checklists I realize I'm going to be late and scramble to find my shoes. After loading Will and his equipment in the car, I do a mental checklist.<br />
<br />
Oxygen tank and tubing, check.<br />
<br />
Feeding pump and extra bag, check.<br />
<br />
Wipes, diapers, bum cream, suctioning, extra milk... check.<br />
<br />
Monitor, check.<br />
<br />
Gauze, Q-tips, meds and syringes, check.<br />
<br />
Extra outfits, extra blanket (blow-out is inevitable), check.<br />
<br />
Sanitizer, binky wipes, binky, check.<br />
<br />
Ok, I think I'm ready. Oh wait, I forgot his G tube extension.<br />
<br />
I dash back into the house, seal the tube in a baggie, and head to Mary Bridge Health Center.<br />
<br />
Today I have appointment with Will's GI and pulmonary doctors. I'm anxious to see what they both have to say.<br />
<br />
Will has been having troubles with a lot of bile in his tummy, resulting in a lot of green goo flowing from his mouth and nose, resulting in troubles with breathing, resulting in lots of coaxing to get his fragile lungs to cooperate. Not to mention the pain that all of this causes him. Bile in the throat is NOT comfortable.<br />
<br />
It is so difficult for me to watch him struggle. But I know these experiences will make me stronger and more compassionate. I have to keep reminding myself of this each day.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-86059631291266191492014-05-27T23:38:00.003-07:002014-05-27T23:38:39.526-07:00Feeling grateful<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My head hits the pillow for the 5<sup>th</sup> time. I hold
my breath, listening for Will’s cry, and am rewarded with silence. It’s 430
a.m. but I don’t mind. The fact that he is sleeping in the next room is enough.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love waking to his cry.. his cute little whimper that
sounds more like a bleating lamb. I love giving him baths and kissing his
dripping piggy toes. There’s nothing like a naked baby! I love watching him and
his big brother as they snuggle on the couch. I love how all of his cries are
followed by an adorable frown. I love that he’s starting to move his arms and
legs. I love being able to be with him every day and not wonder who is taking
care of him. I love that he loves his binky. I love how his tiny body looks in
his big bouncer. I love watching his reaction as I sing lullabies. I love that
he loves to be held by his momma. I love his little peach fuzz on top of his little
head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each day, every hour, is a <i>choice</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today I choose to enjoy every single minute I’m given with
this miracle baby. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I can’t get enough.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-26720557315077328082014-05-21T16:57:00.002-07:002014-05-21T16:57:49.114-07:00The futureHow do I not think about the future?<br />
<br />
While Will was in the NICU, I was completely focused on getting him home. That was our main goal. Now that he's home, I'm plagued with thoughts of the future.<br />
<br />
Will he walk? Will he always have his G tube? Will he sit? Can he see? What can he see? Will he swallow tomorrow? Will he stop breathing tonight? Can he hear? Will he talk? Does he hurt?<br />
<br />
I am grateful he is alive. And that, by itself, is a miracle. I want to remain grateful and be content to just have him here.<br />
<br />
It is a constant decision to turn it over to the Savior and let it go. But right now, I am failing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-82183709425512368992014-05-11T22:32:00.000-07:002014-05-11T22:32:41.581-07:00Jesus weptJesus wept.<br />
<br />
This is, in my opinion, one of the most touching and poignant scriptures.<br />
<br />
And why did Jesus weep? Was it because Lazarus had died?<br />
<br />
Martha came to meet Jesus on the road. She said, "<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. </span><span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Martha and Mary wept because their brother had died, and Jesus wasn't there to heal him. I think Jesus cried with them because he was compassionate and was sad that they didn't see the whole picture. They didn't know that Jesus was about to raise their brother from the dead.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Sometimes we don't know what's in store for us. We weep, and Jesus weeps with us because he loves us and knows what we are feeling. But I think he also weeps because we don't see the whole picture. We don't realize the magnificent blessings He has in store for us. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I love the second part of Martha's plea, "Whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee."</span></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">After the finality of death, she still knows in her heart that the impossible can be done. But it's not impossible. Her brother was healed ONLY through her Savior, Jesus Christ. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">He is my rock and my redeemer. It comforts me to know that He weeps with me. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I love Him so completely.</span>
<span style="background-color: #f9f6ed; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-65326422800860085792014-05-11T00:21:00.002-07:002014-05-11T22:35:41.048-07:00Last days in the NICU<i>May 3rd</i><br />
<br />
The crowd goes crazy as the team makes another try. I scream and yell and cheer my little brother on as his rugby team fights for the national championship. In between the excited yells, I hear a muffled electronic noise. The NICU is calling. I've been in Utah for a few days now, enjoying a last minute trip before Will comes home.<br />
<br />
I answer with a tentative, "Hello?"<br />
<br />
"Will is struggling. He's having a lot of desats and is breathing pretty hard. We are going to put him back on oxygen and see if that helps."<br />
<br />
I sit for a few moments and try not to feel disappointed. Will has been off oxygen for a week.<br />
In a way, I am relieved. This means he will go home on a pulse oximeter that will alarm when his oxygen or heart rate drops. I will be able to rest easy and not always wonder if he's breathing.<br />
<br />
<i>May 6th</i><br />
<br />
3 days.<br />
<br />
Will is expected to come home in 3 days.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
The nurse trains me on all his equipment.. his gj tube (which was successfully placed today!!), feeding pump, and oxygen. I feel so many different emotions as we prepare to bring Will home. Excited, nervous, anxious, sad, and happy all at the same time. I am sad to leave our NICU family. The doctors and nurses here have become such a huge part of our lives. I am excited to FINALLY have our miracle man home with us and be able to enjoy him 24/7. I'm nervous and anxious to know that I'm in charge of all of his care and well being. I feel like I might explode with the overflowing emotions in my body!<br />
<br />
<i>May 9</i><br />
<br />
After 124 days at the NICU, the day we've been waiting for has finally come! 124 days of the most intense, joyful, and heart wrenching roller coaster I could've imagined. And here we are at the end. Or is this the beginning?<br />
<br />
I gather our things in Will's room, making sure I don't forget anything. There's a lump in my throat as I take down the pictures Will's nurse hung on the walls. What am I going to do without Will's guardian angels?<br />
<br />
As if she read my mind, Will's nurse quietly enters with a somber look. I know it's time to go and I feel so blessed. I just didn't realize it would be this hard. I walk over to her and give her a big hug. I can hardly hold back my tears as she wishes us luck and tells us she'll be thinking of us every day.<br />
<br />
Another nurse brings the rest of Will's equipment and we load everything on a cart. The "bath" nurse walks me out and pretty soon there are several people following, saying their goodbyes. It feels so strange to be pushing him in a stroller down the hall. Strange but oh so good.<br />
<br />
I load Will and all of our stuff in the car and slowly pull out of the round about. As I drive home from the hospital for the last time, the storm of emotion gets stronger with every turn. I say a silent prayer and beg Heavenly Father to help me.<br />
<br />
Will cries the whole way home. I feel helpless as I drive and listen to his screams. I finally make it home and Tyler helps me bring in our bundle. We look at each other and can't believe this day has finally come. I sit in the living room and snuggle Will all afternoon.<br />
<br />
We did it.<br />
<br />
On to the next ride!<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-24369041105359537472014-04-26T00:00:00.001-07:002014-04-26T00:00:11.927-07:00Blessings"Will had a wonderful night. His breathing is much better and we've been able to control his pain."<br />
<br />
I breathe a sigh of relief and hang up with Dr Y. As soon as I put my phone down, it rings again.<br />
<br />
"Mrs. Shawcroft, I forgot to mention I spoke with Dr. P. We ordered an ultrasound of Will's liver. It looks like there are some abnormal findings. He saw some dark spots on his liver and the gallbladder wall looks thick. I'll have Dr P give you a call and explain all the findings."<br />
<br />
My relief turns to worry in an instant. This ride is like a roller coaster in more ways than one. Every time I get more bad news, I lose my stomach.<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">I try to focus on the fact that Will is breathing better. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Count your many blessings name them one by one and it will surprise you what the Lord has done."</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-43765261109386671122014-04-24T21:37:00.001-07:002014-04-24T21:37:08.130-07:00Post surgery<i>April 22nd</i><br />
<br />
I stand at the foot of Will's crib and watch as the nurse and RT take turns giving him breaths. My heart is in my throat as I watch his limp body turn blue.<br />
<br />
"Breathe. Come on buddy, breathe," I continue to say. They just switched him from the ventilator (required for his surgery) to the nasal cannula, and he's not liking it.<br />
<br />
2 minutes go by and I feel a complete sense of helplessness.<br />
<br />
Another minute passes and the thought crosses my mind, "I don't want to be here alone when he dies. I want Tyler with me."<br />
<br />
As I stand on trembling legs and watch them continue to work on him, I suddenly feel an unexpected sense of peace. If he passes away here and now, everything will be OK.<br />
<br />
"Get the doc in here," I hear someone say.<br />
<br />
The doctor rushes in and administers a drug through Will's IV. This drug, he tells me, will reverse the effects of the morphine he received for his surgery. This will hopefully get him to breathe.<br />
<br />
The liquid enters his veins and Will immediately lets out a cry. I keep my eyes fixed on his belly as his lungs start working. My heart starts to slow to a normal rate and I wipe my damp palms on my jeans.<br />
<br />
He received surgery this morning at 8:30 to get his GJ feeding tube placed. This is done laparoscopically and endoscopically. After 2 1/2 hours, they declared the surgery complete, although they weren't able to get the tube down past his stomach as far as they wanted. If it doesn't travel down on it's own, they'll have to go in again in 2 weeks and try again.<br />
<br />
12 hours later, here we are.<br />
<br />
"Turn his settings up on the cannula," the nurse says.<br />
<br />
I watch as they make a few final adjustments and listen to his cry. It's music to my ears.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes, the nurse nestles him in my arms and I speak soothing words in an effort to calm him.<br />
<br />
"It's OK Will, you're doing a good job," I whisper.<br />
<br />
His little chin quivers and he keeps on wailing, but I don't mind.<br />
<br />
<i>He's breathing.</i><br />
<br />
<i>April 23rd</i><br />
<br />
My eyes fly open to the sound of my phone ringing. It's the<i> NICU</i>.<br />
<br />
"Will had a really rough night. We had to bag him several times and he's in a lot of pain. He just doesn't want to do it anymore. We need to intubate him again."<br />
<br />
I quickly get ready and drive to the hospital. As I enter his room, the tube is already in place and he is sleeping comfortably. I feel a pang of guilt. As I was sleeping peacefully during the night, my little man needed his mommy. Tears fill my eyes and my throat is tight. He needed me and I wasn't there.<br />
<br />
I dab my eyes and take a deep breath.<br />
<br />
<i>April 24th</i><br />
<br />
I peer down at my miracle boy and place my fingers on his soft belly. I need to be close to him. He looks so much better than yesterday. His swelling has gone down quite a bit and his coloring is better. He's on morphine and versed to help with the pain. He's been breathing over the ventilator and all his gases have been good. Time to take out the breathing tube again and see what he can do.<br />
<br />
As I stand by his bed, I start to think about the events 2 days ago when I thought he was going to die. I'm so afraid he isn't going to breathe again.<br />
<br />
The RT takes off his face tape and gently pulls the tube, then places the cannulas in his nose. His chest stays still and I feel my pulse start to pick up. I turn him on his side and vigorously rub his back as it begins to turn blue.<br />
<br />
<i>Still nothing.</i><br />
<br />
The nurse grabs the bag and hastily places it over his mouth and nose. After about 30 seconds, he gets the idea and starts doing it himself.<br />
<br />
I let the air out of my lungs as I watch Will fighting to get it in his own. I suddenly feel exhausted and all I want to do is sleep. I stay several more hours just to be sure he's OK then finally decide to go home. I feel anxious and worried about him and almost decide to stay. But my heavy eyelids win and I slowly walk out of his room, praying he'll make it another night.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-12018673396538595032014-04-22T00:08:00.001-07:002014-04-22T00:11:39.256-07:00Because of HimWill's warm body rises and falls with each breath. I gaze down at his handsome little face and start singing "our song".<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I have never loved someone the way I love you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have never seen a smile like yours.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And when you grow to be a king or clown or pauper</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I will say you are my favorite one in town.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have never held a hand so soft and sacred.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>When I hear you laugh I know heaven's key.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I will send all my love upon the breeze.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And if the breeze won't blow your way</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I will be the sun.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And if the sun won't shine your way</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I will be the rain.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And if the rain won't wash away all your aches and pains,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I will find some other way </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>to tell you you're OK."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
As I finish singing, his eyes open and rest on mine. I try to convey all the love I have for him with my eyes. We hold each other's gaze for a few moments, then he blinks a few times, stretches, and drifts peacefully back to sleep.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's getting late and I know I should head home. We have an early start tomorrow. His surgery is scheduled for 8, and we have to be here at 7. But I can't seem to leave. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My eyes start to feel heavy and I decide to sing just one more song.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I have a family here on Earth, they are so good to me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I want to share my life with them through all Eternity!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Families can be together forever through Heavenly Father's plan.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I always want to be with my own family </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and the Lord has shown me how I can.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Lord has shown me how I can."</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My eyes blur and tears drop onto his soft cheeks. There is such a peaceful feeling in the room and I don't want to break the spell. The love I feel for him is coupled with the love I feel for my Savior. I think about His life and His resurrection, and the amazing gift He has given each of us. It is only through Him I can be with my sweet ones again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://youtu.be/_S3TI4bYerU" target="_blank">It's all because of Him.</a> (click for video)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I gently place Will back in his crib and brush a kiss on his forehead. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"See you in the morning," I whisper, feeling comfort in knowing it's in His hands.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-49909890762623213622014-04-19T09:50:00.003-07:002014-04-19T09:51:19.556-07:00AH!AAAAHHHH!!!<br />
<br />
The tube will be here Monday.. surgery is scheduled for Tuesday morning at eight!<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-51805404970417167682014-04-18T22:30:00.001-07:002014-04-21T22:45:44.923-07:00GJ tubeThe group of chairs form a circle and we wait for the others to arrive. My palms are already sweating. I just want to get this over.<br />
<br />
Dr E enters with a smile and moves around the circle introducing himself.<br />
<br />
"Hi, I'm Dr E! I'll be performing Will's surgery."<br />
<br />
My stomach constricts at the word and I take a deep breath. I look down at Will in my arms and he lets out a shuddered sigh and stretches. He melts my heart!<br />
<br />
Everyone finds a seat and we begin the meeting. I glance around the room at each individual.. Speech Pathologist, Neonatologist, Gastroenterologist, Will's case worker, and his nurse. My heart swells as my eyes rest on his nurse. She has been part of our lives for so long. Not only has she followed Will throughout his care the last 3 months, she was Molly's nurse as well. She has held me up, comforted and encouraged me through this difficult journey and I will be forever grateful. She has become more like a sister to me.<br />
<br />
The meeting progresses and we all decide on the right feeding tube for Will. He will be getting a special kind of GJ tube that will put his feeds through his stomach into the jejunum. The tube has to be special ordered and will take 10 days to get here.<br />
<br />
<i>More waiting</i>.<br />
<br />
Speech walks over to me after the meeting and... apologizes. She shows us the swallow study video and admits that Will is swallowing, but not efficiently. She apologizes for being short with me and not giving me the full details of the swallow test. I tell her it's OK, it's in the past.<br />
<br />
I take a deep breath of relief and we walk out of the NICU. I feel better than I have in weeks. Will will be getting a GJ tube placed, I'll be able to work on breastfeeding (sometime in the future), and we'll be able to bring him home soon.<br />
<br />
<i>We have a plan!</i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-8901667828204828942014-04-15T00:20:00.001-07:002014-04-15T00:20:41.996-07:00His swallowMy heart hurts.<br />
<br />
After several wonderful nursing sessions with my little man, we decided to stop. His reflux was so bad he would stop breathing. That was about a week and a half ago. Now he's forgotten how to swallow and failed his swallow study today.<br />
<br />
Countless attempts were made to try to convince certain individuals that he CAN swallow. Now they have their test that proves otherwise.<br />
<br />
My tears flow freely tonight.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-11520152734559970462014-04-11T10:11:00.001-07:002014-04-11T10:11:10.552-07:00Meeting Will!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
After three long months, the kids FINALLY got to see Will!!! Lucie was VERY sweet and tender with her baby brother. Brigham was BOUNCING off the walls!!! Haha. Very special day for our family.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4936961633240512940.post-78952012620058731952014-04-11T00:24:00.001-07:002014-04-11T00:24:58.404-07:00Grateful"Mommy," Brigham says, "I love you."<div>
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I glance in the rearview mirror and smile.</div>
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"I love you too buddy." I keep smiling and think, <i>I am so blessed</i>.</div>
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We are almost to the grocery store when the next song on my CD begins. I let the spirit of the song work its way into my heart and start to think about my Savior. My relationship with him has grown tremendously in the last year. I feel closer to him than I ever have. He is my rock and the only one who truly understands me. He can comfort me because he knows exactly what I feel.</div>
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All of a sudden, a thought enters my mind and I feel breathless. </div>
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<i>I am grateful for my trials.</i></div>
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I am startled at this and think to myself, how could I be grateful?</div>
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All at once, this thought builds and my heart and soul spill over with the spirit. A feeling I can't quite explain penetrates every part of my body. </div>
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Through my experiences, I have been able to surrender to Jesus Christ in a way that I might not have done. Through these trials, I have gained a love and closeness with my family that I cherish everyday. Through every heart wrenching realization with our baby boy, I've had to turn myself over to <i>Him </i>completely. </div>
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It has been the most painful and emotional 3 months of my life.</div>
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<i>And I wouldn't trade it.</i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2