Saturday, November 14, 2009
Comments
Recently, I have gotten a few spam comments. For this reason, I've decided to moderate all comments from now on. Sorry for the extra step. I enjoy everyone's comments very much, but I don't like finding an ad for Viagra in a post about a sick child. Thanks for understanding and I hope everyone continues to commment.
Monday, November 9, 2009
"Hamstees"
As the weather has gotten colder, the mice have started to make their way in. The boys think they're cute, so that's why we don't let them see the traps. Annoying little suckers, and noisy too.
Keeping my kid's love of rodents in mind, hubby went to the pet store. Turns out he could get them a cute, fuzzy hamster for free if he payed $18 for a cage the size of a raisin. No, thank you. The very next day, I was at work and a customer came in. She was on her way to the pet store to unload some of her rapidly multiplying hamsters. Did I want one? For free? I couldn't dial hubby's phone fast enough.
In the box, were 11 dwarf hamsters. Yeah, the ones the pet shop wants $18 for and they were ours for the taking. We selected the older 6 and my sister adopted the younger 5. This was a Friday night. They were all brought to us in one container, so until we could get home, this is how they stayed. Once we got them home, they each went into an individual temporary container. Walmart only had 3 water bottles on the shelf, so that left us with 2 and my sister 1. We rotated every few hours until we could get to the pet shop Saturday.
By Sunday, we had began to move them all to glass aquariums. Two to an aquarium with plexiglass to keep them separated. As we observed them, Matthew said something that made my jaw drop. "I see babies". No you don't, son, it's just bedding. He pokes his finger into the cage and says "there, see that little pink thing MOVING?" Oh no. Quickly Googling the gestation period of hamsters, we learned it was 2 weeks. Since we'd kept them separated from the beginning, it didn't happen on our watch. As we looked at our 5 remaining hamsters, we began to wonder how many more came to us with child. One week later, we'd have our answer. We had just 2 mommies in our midst. Between the two of them, we've doubled our hamster population. Plus one. Six hamsters, seven babies.
Being the little rodent loving kids that they are, the boys are thrilled to see the babies. Matthew likes to take a look every so often, but Brandon has turned into quite the little zoo keeper. When hubby was young, he had hamsters for a very long time. He raised them, bred them, and knows quite a bit about them. To see him and Brandon bonding over hamsters is wonderful! Brandon cannot go to bed until he's checked them out. On weekend nights, we let him stay up to help change bedding, refill water bottles and feed them. Once, we told him it didn't need to be done that night and he cried out "you did it without me?" I had to explain that they had plenty of food and water and just didn't need tending that day. He checked on them anyway.
Brandon delights in putting in tunnels made of toilet paper rolls in their cages and watching them run through them. He adjusts their wheels so they can run. And he calls them his "hamstees". While at Walmart this weekend, he sobbed because we could not buy the hamstees one of those giant plastic environments with tunnels and add ons. At $35 a pop, I am satisfied with letting them run through toilet paper tunnels. They don't know the difference! Brandon said the hamstees need something special. Maybe Santa will consider one.
Our babies are now one week and two weeks old. The two week old litter is leaving the nest to eat and have their eyes open. Brandon has declared they have grown eyes. At 4 weeks, they will be ready to leave mama and be on their own. Just in time for Christmas. I'm putting up a flier at work to find some of the babies new homes. Not that they're expensive to take care of, or even a lot of work. I'm just happen to be running out of room for cages.
I have been comparing notes with my sister who adopted the smaller hamsters. Against my advice, she has kept them all in one cage. Should be another week before she's observing little naked pink hamsters herself. She's started hunting down individual cages. Time will tell how many she needs!
Keeping my kid's love of rodents in mind, hubby went to the pet store. Turns out he could get them a cute, fuzzy hamster for free if he payed $18 for a cage the size of a raisin. No, thank you. The very next day, I was at work and a customer came in. She was on her way to the pet store to unload some of her rapidly multiplying hamsters. Did I want one? For free? I couldn't dial hubby's phone fast enough.
In the box, were 11 dwarf hamsters. Yeah, the ones the pet shop wants $18 for and they were ours for the taking. We selected the older 6 and my sister adopted the younger 5. This was a Friday night. They were all brought to us in one container, so until we could get home, this is how they stayed. Once we got them home, they each went into an individual temporary container. Walmart only had 3 water bottles on the shelf, so that left us with 2 and my sister 1. We rotated every few hours until we could get to the pet shop Saturday.
By Sunday, we had began to move them all to glass aquariums. Two to an aquarium with plexiglass to keep them separated. As we observed them, Matthew said something that made my jaw drop. "I see babies". No you don't, son, it's just bedding. He pokes his finger into the cage and says "there, see that little pink thing MOVING?" Oh no. Quickly Googling the gestation period of hamsters, we learned it was 2 weeks. Since we'd kept them separated from the beginning, it didn't happen on our watch. As we looked at our 5 remaining hamsters, we began to wonder how many more came to us with child. One week later, we'd have our answer. We had just 2 mommies in our midst. Between the two of them, we've doubled our hamster population. Plus one. Six hamsters, seven babies.
Being the little rodent loving kids that they are, the boys are thrilled to see the babies. Matthew likes to take a look every so often, but Brandon has turned into quite the little zoo keeper. When hubby was young, he had hamsters for a very long time. He raised them, bred them, and knows quite a bit about them. To see him and Brandon bonding over hamsters is wonderful! Brandon cannot go to bed until he's checked them out. On weekend nights, we let him stay up to help change bedding, refill water bottles and feed them. Once, we told him it didn't need to be done that night and he cried out "you did it without me?" I had to explain that they had plenty of food and water and just didn't need tending that day. He checked on them anyway.
Brandon delights in putting in tunnels made of toilet paper rolls in their cages and watching them run through them. He adjusts their wheels so they can run. And he calls them his "hamstees". While at Walmart this weekend, he sobbed because we could not buy the hamstees one of those giant plastic environments with tunnels and add ons. At $35 a pop, I am satisfied with letting them run through toilet paper tunnels. They don't know the difference! Brandon said the hamstees need something special. Maybe Santa will consider one.
Our babies are now one week and two weeks old. The two week old litter is leaving the nest to eat and have their eyes open. Brandon has declared they have grown eyes. At 4 weeks, they will be ready to leave mama and be on their own. Just in time for Christmas. I'm putting up a flier at work to find some of the babies new homes. Not that they're expensive to take care of, or even a lot of work. I'm just happen to be running out of room for cages.
I have been comparing notes with my sister who adopted the smaller hamsters. Against my advice, she has kept them all in one cage. Should be another week before she's observing little naked pink hamsters herself. She's started hunting down individual cages. Time will tell how many she needs!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
An Update on Brandon
A while back, I posted that we were trying to get psychological assistance for Brandon for his behavioral issues. We were able to start him on medication and after one tweak to a higher dose, it seems to be working for him.
Yesterday, we saw his psychologist for a second time. Lots and lots of questions were asked of me. I tried to explain things as clearly and fairly as I could. Brandon played with playdoh the entire time and was an angel. At the end of the session, I asked the doctor if she was leaning toward any diagnosis. She said no. Brandon is very complex. He doesn't fit into any one category and yet, we both agree that something is amiss with Brandon. You can see it, sense it. Something isn't right but nobody can put their finger on it. She said she's still considering a diagnosis of bipolar but wants to see what his teachers, counselors and other people that have interacted with him say.
She's never seen Brandon off of his meds. I'm wondering if that would change things? I'm more confused now than ever. How can my sweet guy be playing nicely once second and so explosive the next that he's destroying things and hurting people? From the very little I understand about bi polar, there are rapidly cycling periods of depressive states then euphoria and mania. While he does show the euphoria and mania, he's never been in a depressive state outwardly. He's either happy or mad, not happy or sad.
Now that he is on meds, we are also starting to see an increase in his compulsive behaviors. Repetitive picking to one place on his scalp has surged, he's stammering over his words more, and he's not able to transition activities well. He will become hyper focused on an activity and can't/won't stop until it's complete.
I wish I had more answers than questions, but I am so thankful that we have a great team of people surrounding him that want what is best for him and not to pump him full of drugs just so he will sit still and be quiet.
Yesterday, we saw his psychologist for a second time. Lots and lots of questions were asked of me. I tried to explain things as clearly and fairly as I could. Brandon played with playdoh the entire time and was an angel. At the end of the session, I asked the doctor if she was leaning toward any diagnosis. She said no. Brandon is very complex. He doesn't fit into any one category and yet, we both agree that something is amiss with Brandon. You can see it, sense it. Something isn't right but nobody can put their finger on it. She said she's still considering a diagnosis of bipolar but wants to see what his teachers, counselors and other people that have interacted with him say.
She's never seen Brandon off of his meds. I'm wondering if that would change things? I'm more confused now than ever. How can my sweet guy be playing nicely once second and so explosive the next that he's destroying things and hurting people? From the very little I understand about bi polar, there are rapidly cycling periods of depressive states then euphoria and mania. While he does show the euphoria and mania, he's never been in a depressive state outwardly. He's either happy or mad, not happy or sad.
Now that he is on meds, we are also starting to see an increase in his compulsive behaviors. Repetitive picking to one place on his scalp has surged, he's stammering over his words more, and he's not able to transition activities well. He will become hyper focused on an activity and can't/won't stop until it's complete.
I wish I had more answers than questions, but I am so thankful that we have a great team of people surrounding him that want what is best for him and not to pump him full of drugs just so he will sit still and be quiet.
Monday, November 2, 2009
To Be Thankful
One year ago, I was truly alone in the world. I had nothing left but my tears and my broken heart. In the aftermath of Tommy's death, the older boys stayed with their grandma while Rob and I settled things in South Carolina. Except nothing got settled. Instead, everything in my life went wrong. Rob left me and moved to Kansas. We tried to stay friends, but we were planning a divorce. Our home went into foreclosure, so instead of dealing with our fractured marriage and dealing with our grief, we packed things into separate sides of the rental storage shed. His things in boxes on one side and mine on the other. It shredded me.
I moved to KY and stayed with my sister. I was a depressed wreck. Tommy had just died, my kids were closer, but since they were in school and an hour away, seeing them was difficult. I was looking for a job and couldn't find one. I spent some time in a treatment facility to get my act together. I can't describe what it felt like to live in my body last year. Even now, remembering, I feel queasy. Somehow, I made it through each day.
Once Rob was in Kansas, it became clear that his life there was not what he had planned. We made plans and he came to KY. I was still living at my sister's, so he moved there with me. It was NOT easy. For the first time, we had to face not only what had happened to Tommy and all of our loss, but we had to make the decision if our marriage was worth saving. Emotions were very raw and once the full truth of what had happened to us came out, the phrase "adding insult to injury" is the only way to describe how I felt.
I begged and pleaded with Rob for one more chance. I told him that we would give our 100% to our marriage and after 3 months if it wasn't working, he was free to walk away, no hard feelings. So we started with Day 1. We skipped our wedding anniversary and spent every day talking about everything under the sun. It was just the two of us. We were still friends, that made things easier.
Our biggest boost came when we moved out of my sister's house into our own place. We didn't want to take the kids out of school until the end of the semester, so we had about 3 weeks of 24/7 alone time with each other. I already had a child from my previous marriage when Rob and I started dating, and then Matthew came along shortly after, so Rob and I never had "alone" time in our marriage. It's funny, living with someone for years and never knowing them. I am very blessed to have had those 3 weeks.
I'm not sure when it happened, but the time came around after the first of the year. It was very close to our 3 month agreement cut off date. We had made a huge effort to be nice to each other and we had not fought during that time. Something happened this day though, and I had had enough. I felt like he was holding back and not giving me his whole heart. I decided that I was going to move on with my life and told him so. For the first time ever, I saw my husband panic. It dawned on him what was happening and he let it all go. All of the resentment, the heartache, the pain. He wanted me. Forever. I knew from that moment my marriage had survived.
So here we are, a year later. I'm no longer alone. My kids live with us again, I work. And above all, I am happily married. When my life could not have been any darker, I have come through it a different person. My life is far from perfect. We're broke all the time, Rob is in poor health and cannot work, Brandon had behavioral issues. Tommy is still gone. My house is a mess, my feet hurt and I'm tired all the time. And I am HAPPY about all of that! We're broke because we're paying bills. Rob can't work, but he takes care of our kids instead of daycare. They have their daddy in their lives every single day. Brandon is getting help instead of falling through the cracks. I have a roof over my head and my feet hurt because I stand on them working the job to support my family. I am so blessed and thankful for those things.
Most of all, I am thankful my husband gave our marriage another shot. I've never been so happy in a relationship. Yes, we argue, probably more than we should but we work it out. Every day is still a challenge, but we rise to the occasion because we want each other more than anything. Our wedding anniversary is coming up again in two weeks. I'm thrilled it gets to be a happy day again.
November is supposed to be a time to look back and be thankful. I am so very blessed. I've never fought so hard for something I wanted. I wanted my life back. It's been so hard. In the process of all of this mess from last year to now, I've managed to figure out me. I have always put myself last as most moms do. Just when I don't think there's any more room to grow, I do. I'm thankful for myself. I love my husband so much and I am thankful he loves me. Every day is a blessing. Every morning when I wake up, I still get butterflies knowing the man I love more than anything is right there with me. Always.
I moved to KY and stayed with my sister. I was a depressed wreck. Tommy had just died, my kids were closer, but since they were in school and an hour away, seeing them was difficult. I was looking for a job and couldn't find one. I spent some time in a treatment facility to get my act together. I can't describe what it felt like to live in my body last year. Even now, remembering, I feel queasy. Somehow, I made it through each day.
Once Rob was in Kansas, it became clear that his life there was not what he had planned. We made plans and he came to KY. I was still living at my sister's, so he moved there with me. It was NOT easy. For the first time, we had to face not only what had happened to Tommy and all of our loss, but we had to make the decision if our marriage was worth saving. Emotions were very raw and once the full truth of what had happened to us came out, the phrase "adding insult to injury" is the only way to describe how I felt.
I begged and pleaded with Rob for one more chance. I told him that we would give our 100% to our marriage and after 3 months if it wasn't working, he was free to walk away, no hard feelings. So we started with Day 1. We skipped our wedding anniversary and spent every day talking about everything under the sun. It was just the two of us. We were still friends, that made things easier.
Our biggest boost came when we moved out of my sister's house into our own place. We didn't want to take the kids out of school until the end of the semester, so we had about 3 weeks of 24/7 alone time with each other. I already had a child from my previous marriage when Rob and I started dating, and then Matthew came along shortly after, so Rob and I never had "alone" time in our marriage. It's funny, living with someone for years and never knowing them. I am very blessed to have had those 3 weeks.
I'm not sure when it happened, but the time came around after the first of the year. It was very close to our 3 month agreement cut off date. We had made a huge effort to be nice to each other and we had not fought during that time. Something happened this day though, and I had had enough. I felt like he was holding back and not giving me his whole heart. I decided that I was going to move on with my life and told him so. For the first time ever, I saw my husband panic. It dawned on him what was happening and he let it all go. All of the resentment, the heartache, the pain. He wanted me. Forever. I knew from that moment my marriage had survived.
So here we are, a year later. I'm no longer alone. My kids live with us again, I work. And above all, I am happily married. When my life could not have been any darker, I have come through it a different person. My life is far from perfect. We're broke all the time, Rob is in poor health and cannot work, Brandon had behavioral issues. Tommy is still gone. My house is a mess, my feet hurt and I'm tired all the time. And I am HAPPY about all of that! We're broke because we're paying bills. Rob can't work, but he takes care of our kids instead of daycare. They have their daddy in their lives every single day. Brandon is getting help instead of falling through the cracks. I have a roof over my head and my feet hurt because I stand on them working the job to support my family. I am so blessed and thankful for those things.
Most of all, I am thankful my husband gave our marriage another shot. I've never been so happy in a relationship. Yes, we argue, probably more than we should but we work it out. Every day is still a challenge, but we rise to the occasion because we want each other more than anything. Our wedding anniversary is coming up again in two weeks. I'm thrilled it gets to be a happy day again.
November is supposed to be a time to look back and be thankful. I am so very blessed. I've never fought so hard for something I wanted. I wanted my life back. It's been so hard. In the process of all of this mess from last year to now, I've managed to figure out me. I have always put myself last as most moms do. Just when I don't think there's any more room to grow, I do. I'm thankful for myself. I love my husband so much and I am thankful he loves me. Every day is a blessing. Every morning when I wake up, I still get butterflies knowing the man I love more than anything is right there with me. Always.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Deja Vu
There's a family in Charleston at MUSC that is facing some very scary things tomorrow. Their son is HLHS and can't make it off the vent. Tomorrow he is having 3 surgeries. A Nissen Fundoplication, a Gastronomy Tube placed (G-tube) and lastly, tracheostomy.
I know what this family faces. Three years ago, I walked this road myself. It was long, dark and lonely. Now that I've moved back to KY, I can no longer just go over to MUSC and visit the families like I used to do. I miss it terribly, not being near the hospital. It was my second home and comforting other parents going through what we had faced was not only therapeutic, but became what I want to do with my life. NO parent should have to face going through what I did with Tommy, before he was born, during his life and in his death. But his life passing through mine made me who I am.
I walk through my life with a sense of humor. Sometimes it is a bit wry and askew, but I'm not exactly one to conform to the masses either. Remembering Halloween right after Tommy was born, seeing the scars all over his body and the fresh zipper down his chest, I joked we should paint him green and let him go as Frankenstein. Unfortunately, he was very, very sick at the time and my humor was there to rescue me from my misery. A year later, discussing what our wee one should be for his first "real" Halloween, we tried to figure out how to incorporate the machines keeping our baby alive. Trach babies make a gurgly sound when they breathe sometimes. Perfectly normal. Just a little secretions hung up in the trach. I seriously considered a Darth Vader costume, but when I acquired the little Vampire costume, it was a done deal. He was the cutest little vampire on Earth.
I don't know the family at MUSC personally. I wish I did. I would bend over backwards to be sure they had all the help and moral support they need. My emails will have to suffice. I have such a passion in my heart to reach out to families with kids that have special needs. I don't know what I would categorize myself as. Part counselor, part researcher, part well of information. I want to turn this into my career, but can't seem to catch a break. I was accepted to college early in the year, but as the admission date got closer, it became very clear that we financially could not swing it. Even though I qualified for financial aid, transportation was a huge issue. I already travel 45 minutes one way to work. Attending the college where I was accepted would have doubled that and the amount we pay for gas. But I'm NOT giving up! I just need to broaden my options.
My heart, my dream, Tommy's legacy lies in reaching out to other parents. I want to learn ASL well enough to teach it, I want to attend IEP meetings and make sure the parents get what their child needs, I want to sit in hospital waiting rooms with moms and dads while their child is in surgery to remind them to eat, have something to drink and to talk to someone who has been in their shoes. I dream of a day where I can support my family financially by doing what I dream.
Today I dream about reaching out to that family in Charleston, with a sense of deja vu. Knowing what they are facing and wanting to let them know I'm here. That's what I wanted when I was going through this with Tommy. I wanted information and I wanted to hear what it was REALLY like, not what the doctors told me, but what a mom would say. Now I'm that mom. I have a lot to say. Just ask.
I know what this family faces. Three years ago, I walked this road myself. It was long, dark and lonely. Now that I've moved back to KY, I can no longer just go over to MUSC and visit the families like I used to do. I miss it terribly, not being near the hospital. It was my second home and comforting other parents going through what we had faced was not only therapeutic, but became what I want to do with my life. NO parent should have to face going through what I did with Tommy, before he was born, during his life and in his death. But his life passing through mine made me who I am.
I walk through my life with a sense of humor. Sometimes it is a bit wry and askew, but I'm not exactly one to conform to the masses either. Remembering Halloween right after Tommy was born, seeing the scars all over his body and the fresh zipper down his chest, I joked we should paint him green and let him go as Frankenstein. Unfortunately, he was very, very sick at the time and my humor was there to rescue me from my misery. A year later, discussing what our wee one should be for his first "real" Halloween, we tried to figure out how to incorporate the machines keeping our baby alive. Trach babies make a gurgly sound when they breathe sometimes. Perfectly normal. Just a little secretions hung up in the trach. I seriously considered a Darth Vader costume, but when I acquired the little Vampire costume, it was a done deal. He was the cutest little vampire on Earth.
I don't know the family at MUSC personally. I wish I did. I would bend over backwards to be sure they had all the help and moral support they need. My emails will have to suffice. I have such a passion in my heart to reach out to families with kids that have special needs. I don't know what I would categorize myself as. Part counselor, part researcher, part well of information. I want to turn this into my career, but can't seem to catch a break. I was accepted to college early in the year, but as the admission date got closer, it became very clear that we financially could not swing it. Even though I qualified for financial aid, transportation was a huge issue. I already travel 45 minutes one way to work. Attending the college where I was accepted would have doubled that and the amount we pay for gas. But I'm NOT giving up! I just need to broaden my options.
My heart, my dream, Tommy's legacy lies in reaching out to other parents. I want to learn ASL well enough to teach it, I want to attend IEP meetings and make sure the parents get what their child needs, I want to sit in hospital waiting rooms with moms and dads while their child is in surgery to remind them to eat, have something to drink and to talk to someone who has been in their shoes. I dream of a day where I can support my family financially by doing what I dream.
Today I dream about reaching out to that family in Charleston, with a sense of deja vu. Knowing what they are facing and wanting to let them know I'm here. That's what I wanted when I was going through this with Tommy. I wanted information and I wanted to hear what it was REALLY like, not what the doctors told me, but what a mom would say. Now I'm that mom. I have a lot to say. Just ask.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Stellan
I fully intended to blog today. I have a lot of my mind that has been causing me stress. I needed to vent. And then I saw the words I hate to see. "Pray for Stellan". Oh no. I flew right over to their blog to check up on the sweet baby I've been following for months now. Stellan battles supraventricle tachycardia (SVT) and this is looking like the worst bout yet. I still have a tear stuck in the corner of my eye from reading about how things changed so quickly for him last night.
Stellan turns ONE tomorrow! Please pray that his little body can snap out of the too fast rhythm so that he can enjoy his birthday.
Having a heart child is not easy. It's a daily struggle. What Stellan is going through is what my own son, Brandon, potentially faces. Although Brandon is at low risk, his IS at risk. We've taught him to tell us if he feels like his heart is beating too fast or if he feels "butterflies" in his heart, or if he's in any pain. So far, he's told me twice. Both times we took his pulse and it was a little on the fast side, but completely normal. I'm very glad Brandon is aware of his body and tells us when things don't feel right. Poor Stellan doesn't have that option yet.
Heart defects come in so many forms. From the very serious single ventricle defects like Tommy suffered from to short PR intervals that Brandon has been diagnosed with and everything in between. Too fast rhythms, too slow. Holes big and small. There are so many! Here is a website that lists several heart defects. Tommy's is listed under Single Ventricle and is called Double Inlet Left Ventricle if you'd like to read about his. To read more about Stellan's condition, I found this link.
I wish I could reach out to every single heart parent in the world and scream that I understand. I pray for MORE research, MORE awareness, and someday a cure. Nobody knows why in those first early weeks of pregnancy does the heart not form properly. It's so early in the pregnancy that many are not even aware they're pregnant yet. Heart defects don't discriminate.
I am just one voice, asking for prayers not only for a little boy, but for ALL kids out there suffering from heart defects. Tommy was blue his entire life. I never got to hold and play with a healthy pink baby. I've seen him pink twice. Both times he was sleeping, on 100% oxygen and it was only for a moment. A rare glimpse at what would never be.
Tommy has so many playmates in Heaven now. Please pray he doesn't get any more for long time. Especially Stellan. Pray not only for Stellan, but his wonderful mother who shares his story with the world and for his family that loves him very much.
Stellan turns ONE tomorrow! Please pray that his little body can snap out of the too fast rhythm so that he can enjoy his birthday.
Having a heart child is not easy. It's a daily struggle. What Stellan is going through is what my own son, Brandon, potentially faces. Although Brandon is at low risk, his IS at risk. We've taught him to tell us if he feels like his heart is beating too fast or if he feels "butterflies" in his heart, or if he's in any pain. So far, he's told me twice. Both times we took his pulse and it was a little on the fast side, but completely normal. I'm very glad Brandon is aware of his body and tells us when things don't feel right. Poor Stellan doesn't have that option yet.
Heart defects come in so many forms. From the very serious single ventricle defects like Tommy suffered from to short PR intervals that Brandon has been diagnosed with and everything in between. Too fast rhythms, too slow. Holes big and small. There are so many! Here is a website that lists several heart defects. Tommy's is listed under Single Ventricle and is called Double Inlet Left Ventricle if you'd like to read about his. To read more about Stellan's condition, I found this link.
I wish I could reach out to every single heart parent in the world and scream that I understand. I pray for MORE research, MORE awareness, and someday a cure. Nobody knows why in those first early weeks of pregnancy does the heart not form properly. It's so early in the pregnancy that many are not even aware they're pregnant yet. Heart defects don't discriminate.
I am just one voice, asking for prayers not only for a little boy, but for ALL kids out there suffering from heart defects. Tommy was blue his entire life. I never got to hold and play with a healthy pink baby. I've seen him pink twice. Both times he was sleeping, on 100% oxygen and it was only for a moment. A rare glimpse at what would never be.
Tommy has so many playmates in Heaven now. Please pray he doesn't get any more for long time. Especially Stellan. Pray not only for Stellan, but his wonderful mother who shares his story with the world and for his family that loves him very much.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Haunted
Am I coming to terms with the horrors I saw that day? Am I ready to deal with them? I don't know. Fact is, I can't get the images out of my head. The look on the medic's face as she looked at me. It was a pitiful look like she knew there was no hope and the doctor was just placating me.
The determination on the doctor's face as he realized Tommy was in full arrest and started CPR with a vengeance. Then switching off with nurses and medics. All of them sweating profusely from the sheer force of trying to save my boy's life.
The sound of anger in the Attending doctor's voice as he asked for a cuffed trach tube, but none could be found on the crash cart. Wanting to know why he didn't have IV access and had to waste precious time getting in a line.
The sound of the inncessant beeping of the heart monitor as it began to flatline. The look on the nurse's face through the window as she tried to get me to leave the room. HELL NO!
One of the medics shouted above the fray, wanting to know what Tommy was on "contact" for. I was the one shouting back pseudomonas. He flung his mask and gown off to get closer to Tommy and work harder.
I shouted his diagnosis to the medics that did not know him. I gave his history and made corrections to what was in his chart. I wanted more than anything to jump into the middle of it all and save my son's life.
Through it all, I was calm and in complete denial. Tommy had coded before. He'd been sicker. I kept wondering why they weren't moving him to the OR to start heart surgery. I was guessing he had to be stablilized. I watched my son's naked body with blood on the sheets from the emergency IV with someone compressing his heart while another breathed for him with an ambu bag while another gave shots of life saving drugs trying to restart his heart. Except watching it all, I didn't realize his heart had stopped and that meant death. I thought his heart was having trouble because it was sick, not because his body was dying.
Even when the attending called in the chaplain, I would not give up hope. My son was a fighter and had been through so much. He couldn't just die like that. He'd been fixed before. Pulled through when we thought there was no hope. And then he said it. "Call time". 10:50pm. The noise stopped, the room full of people filed out. Gone. He was just here. Blowing me kisses and signing "I love you" from across the room. My poor, sick baby. I denied it all the way until the end. I never gave up on him.
It's been over a year. The scene plays out in my head on a daily basis. I block it out the best I can, but when I am alone at work and the rain falls outside, the images will not go away. When we drive through certain parts of town (near the hotel where we stayed during the funeral) feelings of grief and horror rush back to me.
I talked to Rob about all of it and think it's time to start seeing a counselor. I saw one before but had dealt with all I could deal with at the time. Now it's time to face the hauntings.
The determination on the doctor's face as he realized Tommy was in full arrest and started CPR with a vengeance. Then switching off with nurses and medics. All of them sweating profusely from the sheer force of trying to save my boy's life.
The sound of anger in the Attending doctor's voice as he asked for a cuffed trach tube, but none could be found on the crash cart. Wanting to know why he didn't have IV access and had to waste precious time getting in a line.
The sound of the inncessant beeping of the heart monitor as it began to flatline. The look on the nurse's face through the window as she tried to get me to leave the room. HELL NO!
One of the medics shouted above the fray, wanting to know what Tommy was on "contact" for. I was the one shouting back pseudomonas. He flung his mask and gown off to get closer to Tommy and work harder.
I shouted his diagnosis to the medics that did not know him. I gave his history and made corrections to what was in his chart. I wanted more than anything to jump into the middle of it all and save my son's life.
Through it all, I was calm and in complete denial. Tommy had coded before. He'd been sicker. I kept wondering why they weren't moving him to the OR to start heart surgery. I was guessing he had to be stablilized. I watched my son's naked body with blood on the sheets from the emergency IV with someone compressing his heart while another breathed for him with an ambu bag while another gave shots of life saving drugs trying to restart his heart. Except watching it all, I didn't realize his heart had stopped and that meant death. I thought his heart was having trouble because it was sick, not because his body was dying.
Even when the attending called in the chaplain, I would not give up hope. My son was a fighter and had been through so much. He couldn't just die like that. He'd been fixed before. Pulled through when we thought there was no hope. And then he said it. "Call time". 10:50pm. The noise stopped, the room full of people filed out. Gone. He was just here. Blowing me kisses and signing "I love you" from across the room. My poor, sick baby. I denied it all the way until the end. I never gave up on him.
It's been over a year. The scene plays out in my head on a daily basis. I block it out the best I can, but when I am alone at work and the rain falls outside, the images will not go away. When we drive through certain parts of town (near the hotel where we stayed during the funeral) feelings of grief and horror rush back to me.
I talked to Rob about all of it and think it's time to start seeing a counselor. I saw one before but had dealt with all I could deal with at the time. Now it's time to face the hauntings.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
