Don't Stop Believing.....
Friday is finally here and weather-wise it looks to be an amazing weekend. A long weekend, too. Memorial Day weekend has memories for me that I would like to forget, but they will be with me always. It was one year ago that I began one of the worst two weeks of my life. As a mother, I would like to think that I can handle anything, but what occurred a year ago, tested my faith in not only a God that would allow a child to suffer but tested my faith in myself as a parent.
Our oldest twinlet, Our Queen Bean had not been feeling well. Medical history, she had a UTI (urinary tract infection) at just 3 months and after a battery of tests, it was determined that there was nothing wrong with her. They gave her the antibiotics and she recovered quickly. Cut to her now being about 15 months. A fever of 102 starts to freak me out where my kids are concerned. I gave her Tylenol, the fever went away but came right back. I gave her Motrin. The fever went away but came right back. We went to Urgent Care where they diagnosed her with another UTI. I was actually relieved. We had been there, done that before...no big deal. Give her the shots and send us home. That is exactly what they did. It was only after that she wasn't eating or drinking.
On that Friday, the new X-men movie was opening so my husband took our older 2 and I stayed home with the girls. Beana was lethargic. She was not eating or drinking anything. Her fever was now at 103.5 and I was lying on the floor behind her watching t.v., trying to comfort her as much as I could. When the gang got home from the movie, my husband asked how long her face had been swollen like that? I was not looking at her face, so I rolled her over and the left side of her neck was swelling...right before our eyes. We knew that this was not normal and we thought that she was having an allergic reaction to the shots that had given her. We grabbed all the kids, little Piglet was in just a diaper and got into the car to get her back to Urgent Care. I was driving, the entire time thinking to myself that there really wasn't anything wrong and that we would get her to the hospital and they would fix her up.
Of the top 4 worst memories I have, this is number 1. While I was trying to turn into the parking lot of the hospital, my husband was turned around talking to Beana. As I got to the handicapped parking, I had not stopped the car yet, he opened the door and yelled to the Security Guard that we needed help because our daughter had stopped breathing! What? What did he say? It took me a moment to turn around, the car was not in park, to see her struggling to breathe. He was getting her out of her car seat and he ran, security guard with him, into the emergency room. I was left there. Sitting in a car, while my daughter was fighting for her next breath. I pulled into a parking space, left the oldest one in charge and rushed in. The nurse directed me to a room where my husband sat on a chair, holding our daughter, while they gave her oxygen. She was breathing on her own, but her throat was still swelling up and they were concerned that it would shut down her airway. He handed me my daughter, and I sat, stroking her hair, rocking her back and forth. This is when the praying gets louder in your head. Please don't let her stop breathing, please let her be alright. Please, Please....
The next words out of our Pediatrician's mouth will stay with me for my entire life. He turned to one of the 4 nurses in the room and asked them to get the helicopter to rush us to Children's Hospital in downtown. My God! How bad was this. They did not know what was happening. Nobody could give us an answer as to what was going on. But now they wanted to put her in a helicopter? Please, let her be alright...Please. It was decided to take her, by ambulance, to the nearest hospital, which is where she was born. They loaded me, holding her, onto a gurney and we were put in the ambulance. I was sitting up, looking out the ambulance door to my husband and 3 other children, and my husband's grandmother, who had already gotten there, and I finally began to cry. I watched as my son cried and there was nothing I could do to comfort him. It hurts my heart to think of it now.
We got to the hospital. We were put in the ER. They took blood. They took more blood. They gave her IV fluids. She was hooked up to several machines. And 5 hours later, they let us know that they did not have a Pediatric floor there and that they were now going to send us to another hospital that had a great Pediatric care unit. Our second ambulance trip. We got to the next hospital and were admitted immediately. Still, nobody could explain what was happening to her. Her neck was still swelling and had become hard. You could tell there was something there that hadn't been there before. My parents had come home from a trip to Hawaii around 10 pm and I finally reached them and let them know what was going on. It is always reassuring to hear your Mom's voice when you, as a Mom are suffering.
Four days! We were at this hospital for 4 days! It was a holiday weekend and we were basically told that we probably couldn't see a specialist until Tuesday. WHAT? This is my child here, suffering, not drinking or eating and definitely not herself. My husband's Mom, who is an RN came by, spoke to us about what we needed to do and my husband made our voices heard. We got an MRI and they finally gave us a diagnosis. She had an abscess on her esophagus. Whew. At least we knew what it was. The next few words from the specialist lips, is #3 on the list. She must have surgery, immediately. Surgery? She wasn't even 2 yet. She had to have surgery? They let us know that we were now going to be transferred to Children's Hospital of LA. Finally!
Our 3rd ambulance ride. When we got to CHOLA, we were happily surprised at how much they cared about what was going on with us. You are immediately struck by the look on the parents faces there. It is suffering. We suffer along with our children when they are not well. We saw a surgeon right away. He agreed that she needed surgery, but he wanted to wait to see if the swelling would go down on it's own. They started her on new antibiotics and we waited. Mind you, I had not been home or showered for almost a week. I was exhausted. Exhausted doesn't even describe what I was. I held her at night, praying each minute that I was there that she was going to get better.
It was about 7:30 am when the surgeon came in and said OK, let's operate! I was all alone. I called my husband and told him to get over here. The drive, with traffic would take about an hour and half. At 8:15 they said that it was time to take her to surgery. I called him, again. He was about 1/2 hour away, still.
I sat there, holding her, while they prepped her for surgery. They gave her medication that made her all glossy-eyed and woozy. I held her. I told her that my life was so much better with her in it. I kissed her. I stroked her cheek. I kissed her some more and then they took her from me. This was #1 on my list of worst moments. To have my child, who I carried in my body, who I gave life to, taken from me...not knowing what would happen next. They directed me to a waiting room. I walked out to the main entrance, where my husband rushed in. I collapsed in his arms. I had felt so alone and now that he was there, I could let it all out. We held each other for, what seemed like, hours. We went back to the waiting room. We waited. We tried to talk about something other than our situation. He kept me upbeat. He is great like that!
An hour and a half later, they told us that she had come out of surgery just fine and that we could see her soon. OH MY GOD! What a relief that I was going to touch her again. He called all of our families. I paced around the floor waiting to see her. And then, there she was. With a large white bandage around her neck, still woozy, but opening her eyes. As my tears rolled down my face onto hers, I felt such relief. A feeling that I have not had since then. No burdens. No money problems. No marital discord. Just relief.
So for the next 3 days, she pulled out her IV twice, she drank her bottles, she ate her jello and she was our girl again. Her sister and brother came to visit. Our friends visited. Our family came by. And we got to take our baby home.
Home. As we left the hospital, you are struck that some families never take their babies home from there. They go home to make funeral arrangements, not birthday plans. We are the lucky one's. Our Beana is well. She is here...for a long, long time to continue to torment her baby sister and make us laugh.
So, Beana...on this an Anniversary of sorts for us.. God Bless You. You are a part of us that we will never be able to live without. You are our Heart. You are our Soul. You are everything that is good in the world...if only you would stop biting! We love you, Bean!
Mirth & Merriment....
Our oldest twinlet, Our Queen Bean had not been feeling well. Medical history, she had a UTI (urinary tract infection) at just 3 months and after a battery of tests, it was determined that there was nothing wrong with her. They gave her the antibiotics and she recovered quickly. Cut to her now being about 15 months. A fever of 102 starts to freak me out where my kids are concerned. I gave her Tylenol, the fever went away but came right back. I gave her Motrin. The fever went away but came right back. We went to Urgent Care where they diagnosed her with another UTI. I was actually relieved. We had been there, done that before...no big deal. Give her the shots and send us home. That is exactly what they did. It was only after that she wasn't eating or drinking.
On that Friday, the new X-men movie was opening so my husband took our older 2 and I stayed home with the girls. Beana was lethargic. She was not eating or drinking anything. Her fever was now at 103.5 and I was lying on the floor behind her watching t.v., trying to comfort her as much as I could. When the gang got home from the movie, my husband asked how long her face had been swollen like that? I was not looking at her face, so I rolled her over and the left side of her neck was swelling...right before our eyes. We knew that this was not normal and we thought that she was having an allergic reaction to the shots that had given her. We grabbed all the kids, little Piglet was in just a diaper and got into the car to get her back to Urgent Care. I was driving, the entire time thinking to myself that there really wasn't anything wrong and that we would get her to the hospital and they would fix her up.
Of the top 4 worst memories I have, this is number 1. While I was trying to turn into the parking lot of the hospital, my husband was turned around talking to Beana. As I got to the handicapped parking, I had not stopped the car yet, he opened the door and yelled to the Security Guard that we needed help because our daughter had stopped breathing! What? What did he say? It took me a moment to turn around, the car was not in park, to see her struggling to breathe. He was getting her out of her car seat and he ran, security guard with him, into the emergency room. I was left there. Sitting in a car, while my daughter was fighting for her next breath. I pulled into a parking space, left the oldest one in charge and rushed in. The nurse directed me to a room where my husband sat on a chair, holding our daughter, while they gave her oxygen. She was breathing on her own, but her throat was still swelling up and they were concerned that it would shut down her airway. He handed me my daughter, and I sat, stroking her hair, rocking her back and forth. This is when the praying gets louder in your head. Please don't let her stop breathing, please let her be alright. Please, Please....
The next words out of our Pediatrician's mouth will stay with me for my entire life. He turned to one of the 4 nurses in the room and asked them to get the helicopter to rush us to Children's Hospital in downtown. My God! How bad was this. They did not know what was happening. Nobody could give us an answer as to what was going on. But now they wanted to put her in a helicopter? Please, let her be alright...Please. It was decided to take her, by ambulance, to the nearest hospital, which is where she was born. They loaded me, holding her, onto a gurney and we were put in the ambulance. I was sitting up, looking out the ambulance door to my husband and 3 other children, and my husband's grandmother, who had already gotten there, and I finally began to cry. I watched as my son cried and there was nothing I could do to comfort him. It hurts my heart to think of it now.
We got to the hospital. We were put in the ER. They took blood. They took more blood. They gave her IV fluids. She was hooked up to several machines. And 5 hours later, they let us know that they did not have a Pediatric floor there and that they were now going to send us to another hospital that had a great Pediatric care unit. Our second ambulance trip. We got to the next hospital and were admitted immediately. Still, nobody could explain what was happening to her. Her neck was still swelling and had become hard. You could tell there was something there that hadn't been there before. My parents had come home from a trip to Hawaii around 10 pm and I finally reached them and let them know what was going on. It is always reassuring to hear your Mom's voice when you, as a Mom are suffering.
Four days! We were at this hospital for 4 days! It was a holiday weekend and we were basically told that we probably couldn't see a specialist until Tuesday. WHAT? This is my child here, suffering, not drinking or eating and definitely not herself. My husband's Mom, who is an RN came by, spoke to us about what we needed to do and my husband made our voices heard. We got an MRI and they finally gave us a diagnosis. She had an abscess on her esophagus. Whew. At least we knew what it was. The next few words from the specialist lips, is #3 on the list. She must have surgery, immediately. Surgery? She wasn't even 2 yet. She had to have surgery? They let us know that we were now going to be transferred to Children's Hospital of LA. Finally!
Our 3rd ambulance ride. When we got to CHOLA, we were happily surprised at how much they cared about what was going on with us. You are immediately struck by the look on the parents faces there. It is suffering. We suffer along with our children when they are not well. We saw a surgeon right away. He agreed that she needed surgery, but he wanted to wait to see if the swelling would go down on it's own. They started her on new antibiotics and we waited. Mind you, I had not been home or showered for almost a week. I was exhausted. Exhausted doesn't even describe what I was. I held her at night, praying each minute that I was there that she was going to get better.
It was about 7:30 am when the surgeon came in and said OK, let's operate! I was all alone. I called my husband and told him to get over here. The drive, with traffic would take about an hour and half. At 8:15 they said that it was time to take her to surgery. I called him, again. He was about 1/2 hour away, still.
I sat there, holding her, while they prepped her for surgery. They gave her medication that made her all glossy-eyed and woozy. I held her. I told her that my life was so much better with her in it. I kissed her. I stroked her cheek. I kissed her some more and then they took her from me. This was #1 on my list of worst moments. To have my child, who I carried in my body, who I gave life to, taken from me...not knowing what would happen next. They directed me to a waiting room. I walked out to the main entrance, where my husband rushed in. I collapsed in his arms. I had felt so alone and now that he was there, I could let it all out. We held each other for, what seemed like, hours. We went back to the waiting room. We waited. We tried to talk about something other than our situation. He kept me upbeat. He is great like that!
An hour and a half later, they told us that she had come out of surgery just fine and that we could see her soon. OH MY GOD! What a relief that I was going to touch her again. He called all of our families. I paced around the floor waiting to see her. And then, there she was. With a large white bandage around her neck, still woozy, but opening her eyes. As my tears rolled down my face onto hers, I felt such relief. A feeling that I have not had since then. No burdens. No money problems. No marital discord. Just relief.
So for the next 3 days, she pulled out her IV twice, she drank her bottles, she ate her jello and she was our girl again. Her sister and brother came to visit. Our friends visited. Our family came by. And we got to take our baby home.
Home. As we left the hospital, you are struck that some families never take their babies home from there. They go home to make funeral arrangements, not birthday plans. We are the lucky one's. Our Beana is well. She is here...for a long, long time to continue to torment her baby sister and make us laugh.
So, Beana...on this an Anniversary of sorts for us.. God Bless You. You are a part of us that we will never be able to live without. You are our Heart. You are our Soul. You are everything that is good in the world...if only you would stop biting! We love you, Bean!
Mirth & Merriment....
3 comments:
I know just how you feel. This family has been blessed to know the goodness of God in so many ways in so many "adventures" medical and otherwise. Thanks, God.
Wow! I didn't heed your advice about the tissue and now regret it. I had no idea how horrifying all of that was. I am so sorry you had to go through it, but am amazed at your love, your strength and the amazing light God shined on all of you. I hope to meet all the kids someday because with a mom like you - I know they are all just incredible!
Love you!!
Okay, so I'm a little late posting this. Isn't it amazing how something like that experience puts EVERYTHING in perspective?
xoxo
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