Hello Friends!
To say I haven't blogged in awhile is an understatement. Seems I took more of a sabbatical from blogging. To say that so much has happened since my last post is yet another understatement. Friends and family have asked why the long period of radio...err...blog silence. I have asked myself that over and over. Lazy? No. Tired? Maybe. Over it? Not at all. I love to write, it is my outlet, the way I best express myself. So why no blogging? The answer is simple. Fear.
I have been too fearful to write because some of the things that have happened in the last seven months downright scared me and to write about them is to relive them. And to relive them is to face one of my biggest fears. But I think I am ready. Don't worry this won't all be painful and sad. We have had some amazing times too but first the story behind why I went on hiatus for so long.
Nuggy got sick. Simple right? Kids get sick all the time. In fact it feels like they sometimes get sick more often than they aren't sick. We have been very fortunate because minus her first hospital stay after birth for jaundice Nuggy has been relatively healthy. In fact she has been so healthy that I began to get scared. I watched as my other mommy friends and their lil ones battled cold after cold, ear infection after ear infection and so on. Minus two other small episodes Nuggy was always ok. Until Thanksgiving 2013.
We decided to head to Austin to watch the Longhorns play. We rented a house and my family and Husband's family were going to meet us to spend the weekend together. My brother and his girlfriend would also be joining us (baby sis had to stay in Denton for school). We were so excited to travel back to a city we consider our second home. The day before Thanksgiving Nuggy seemed a bit more cranky than usual. She is not a cranky baby---in fact she's one of the happiest kids I've ever met (she gets that from her daddy). I figured maybe she was teething but something was off. The day progressed as normal and the next morning (Thanksgiving Day) Nuggy was even more cranky and not wanting to eat. By around 4 PM she was refusing to eat or drink and just wanted me to hold her. I felt her forehead and was certain she had a fever. "She must be getting sick, let's give her Motrin and put her to bed early." I tried not to let it bother me too much that she didn't seem to feel well since Husband says I worry too much. My mom was going to watch Nuggy that night so we could all go to the football game. At 6 PM she sent me a video of Nuggy laughing and playing, clearly feeling slightly better than earlier in the day. My mom told me she sounded congested and I told her I would call her pedi in the morning to see if she could call something in. We arrived home around 11:30 PM. I walked into Nuggy's room and she was on fire and her breathing sounded very heavy. At 5 AM the next morning (and after a VERY restless night) she woke up and seemed very uncomfortable. Her breathing seemed labored. I began to worry. "Calm down, it's only a cold," I told myself. By 7 AM she had fallen asleep on me (and I as well) on the living room couch under bright lights. We NEVER fall asleep with bright lights on. For whatever reason I woke up startled. "She never falls asleep on my arms in the bright daylight" I told Husband. We decided we should go home. She was breathing shallow and rapid at this point. "She's super sick," I told Husband. We called my parents and told them we were headed home early because Nuggy was sick. My parents said they would come by and say goodbye and help us pack. I noticed her breathing seemed very rapid and very shallow. Her little chest was rising and falling as if she had just run a marathon. My stomach sank (it sinks right now just thinking of this---I am utterly sick writing this), deep down I knew something didn't seem right. I tried not to overreact. After all, Husband tells me I worry too much. My parents arrived around 9:30 AM. I handed SG to my dad. At 10 AM we were about to walk out the door when he said, "Babe, I think you need to take her to the ER, she's not breathing well and doesn't look good." My heart and my stomach both sank and a wave of anxiety I cannot describe took over me. My dad had just confirmed what I was thinking and feeling. I snatched her up and loaded her into the car.
The 15 min drive to the hospital was the longest ever. I struggled to maintain composure. I fumbled for my phone and couldn't remember our pedi's name for the life of me. I was teetering between reality and sheer panic. Nuggy was in the back and began screaming in agony. I looked over to Husband who I consider my calm rock. The look on his face told me everything. This was serious and he was worried. There was no comfort to be found. I finally got a hold of her pedi and she told me to rush her to the ER. "She will likely get a breathing treatment and hopefully that will help everything." There it was...the comfort I was looking for. Ok for the next 10 minutes I gathered any composure I could muster and thought, "she's going to be ok, she's going to be ok." At 11 AM we arrived. Husband dropped me off. I scooped Nuggy up, she was breathing so rapidly and screaming like she has never screamed before. I walked up to the triage nurse again trying to mask my panic. "How long has she had bronchialitis?" "Bronchitis? Wait, no I don't know." "No, ma'am, bronchialitis." After that I don't remember too much except the nurses face. You see I used to work in the medical field and did some work in the ER. Doctor's and medical staff are taught the fine art of composure during emergency. Their job is to always remain calm. But, I know the actions of an emergency, even when carried out by someone remaining calm for the sake of a frantic mother. I saw her look and when she brought us back ahead of everyone I knew things were serious. In an instant I was transported back to the last time we were in an ER and the last time we jumped ahead of everyone else and the last time we were told we made it by hours. "Oh dear God, please help my baby, I can't do this again. I can't."
Immediately a breathing treatment was started. By this point Nuggy was so exhausted that she sat almost lifeless in my arms. The only sounds I heard were her shallow breaths and a loud wheeze/whimper. Other than that she was limp...absolutely limp. One treatment later and no improvement. Three later and a MINOR, I mean minor improvement. By 6 PM we were bring admitted into the CCU. The next 12 hours were horrible. Nuggy was placed on an IV, hooked up to a nasal cannula (small nasal tube) and all sorts of monitors. Those monitors. They are the worst sound ever. It's like suddenly a human life is dictated by the beeps, blips and warning sirens of a machine. Sounds were going off constantly and neither of us knew the difference between what was good or bad. Unfortunately, the hospital we were at was also a teaching hospital. I say unfortunately only because of the resident assigned to Nuggy's case. Please don't get me wrong, teaching hospitals are great and absolutely necessary but unfortunately we were assigned a less than adequate resident. She was likely a great student in school (very smart and clearly understood medicine and the human body) but she lacked in bedside manner and decision making (which I almost think could be worse). Because of her we wasted 12 hours. She did no blood work, didn't call for any tests, nothing. I am a fixer. You determine the problem and you FIX it. I knew I wasn't the only one frustrated with the resident when our nurse explained that she was a bit nervous of Nuggy's condition. "Her work of breathing is too hard, I am concerned about this. I am going to call an RT (respiratory therapist)." As our nurse suspected Nuggy's work of breathing was beyond where it should be. After a few more hours both Husband and I were reaching our wits end. I finally lost it when the resident told the RT that she thought Nuggy sounded better to which both the nurse and RT responded that they thought she was worse. Her response, "well I guess we can wait it out." This is when I lost it, "wait it out?! Wait what out?! Do you plan on actually making a decision while we are here?!" Fast forward to very early the next morning and we were transferred to ICU. Keep in mind we still didn't know what was wrong with our baby.
We were greeted in the ER by what we call Nuggy's guardian angel; appropriately named Paul (one of the greatest men in the Bible). Paul was calm, serene, peaceful, serious, intense but most of all he was the comfort we so desperately sought. Paul also had a daughter, three years old and a self proclaimed daddy's girl. Paul calmly explained to us that Nuggy was in respiratory failure due to an unknown virus (tests for flu and RSV came back negative). She also had bronchialitis and because of these two we needed to put her on a respirator. Although we received this shocking news we also felt comforted to know that Paul would be by Nuggy's side for the next 12 hours. He watched her like a hawk and was very frank with us. "I can't tell you what's going to happen. The next few hours will be very telling. I cannot guarantee you that she will be ok. All we can do is monitor her and let the virus pass and make her comfortable." That's right, we were basically told that they weren't sure if our precious angel would survive. I cannot begin to describe the feeling behind that type of news. What do you do with that? What do you grasp at? What do you say? Your body goes numb and feels pain at the same time. Your mind races and you think of all the things you did wrong. How could this be our lives? How could God have given me a child and then possibly take her away. I did what I always do and turned my emotions inward. I tried so hard to keep it together but with every poke, prod, test, and poor update it seemed this was my life. I was going to lose my daughter. Husband and I fought so hard to keep her here the first time and it was all in vain. We would be those parents that people look at with pity, sadness and relief that they aren't us because we lost a child. What was worse is they had to sedate her. Even in her desperate condition our daughter was still a fighter and tried to fight the tubes, breathing mask, IV and everything else. She had to be restrained with tiny straps because she tried to pull off her mask and IV out. She would wake up when the sedatives wore off and cry a sad, horrible muffled cry of "mooooommmmmmmmmaaa." She would occasionally open her eyes and stare up at me with tears falling silently begging me with her big beautiful brown eyes to help her. Every test that came back came back worse than the one before it. All her levels kept declining. Paul's expressions told me that he was very worried--I could tell he so hoped to deliver good news and with each blood test he had nothing good to share with us. Her breathing was supposed to be around 25 respiration's per minute and were in the 60s. Her heart rate was through the roof. Her O2 levels were low. With each passing hour our sweet girl was slipping further and further away. She wasn't getting better, she was only getting worse.
I could nothing. I was helpless. I could only hold her tiny hands and touch her forehead. I could do ABSOLUTELY nothing to comfort my daughter. To take away her pain and fear. I was rendered useless, worthless, a failure. The one thing I am supposed to do is protect my daughter and there wasn't a damn thing I could do. Nothing. And then I remembered. Pray. All I can do is pray. I can tell you that several times over the next few days Husband and I both fell to our knees in prayer, amongst tears of anguish. "Dear God, please save my baby, please." I almost lost hope. I was sitting on the cliff of hopelessness looking down. And then, suddenly late the 4th day a glimmer of hope. I left for lunch with my mom. I was so emotionally drained from watching my daughter suffer. By this point her vein with the IV had collapsed and she needed a new IV. The medical staff tried FOUR times to start a new IV but her veins were too weak and kept collapsing. They even called in the PICK team (they specialize in starting IVs in difficult cases) and even they had zero luck. I had to step out and have a break. When I left Nuggy wasn't doing well, she was very weak and still sedated. When I came back Husband told me that her blood work came back and for the first time showed an improvement that even Paul (he had VERY high standards for what he considered an improvement which I am thankful for because I am the same way) was happy with. His words were, "I don't want to say we are out of the clear yet but this is a good sign." The next few hours progressed and by the time 9 AM the next morning rolled around SG was off the respirator and back on a nasal cannula and was out of restraints! By 12 PM that day she was in my arms for the first time in five days. And for the first time in five days I actually felt like a mother again. I was able to comfort my baby. By 1 PM she was cleared to eat. Her fever had officially been gone for 12 hours. She was cleared to drink milk and have a fruit pouch. By 2 PM she was taken off the oxygen all together. We were told they would move her back the CCU floor to be monitored. By 4:30 PM we were told that there were no more beds in CCU but that the attending felt she might be good enough to go home. By 5 PM we were being discharged! As quickly as she fell ill she recovered. How did this happen so suddenly.
God. The only answer I have is God. He gave us a miracle that day. What's so funny (funny isn't the right word, but that's the saying) is that the day before our friends had sent a pastor from a local church to meet with us and pray with us. That same day Nuggy's caretaker held a prayer vigil at church. That was also the day I saw Daniel fall to his knees in despair begging God to save his daughter. And just like that, in a matter of hours God delivered a miracle to us and saved our daughter. Maybe I sound dramatic. Maybe I sound overindulgent. Maybe I sound as though I am exaggerating. But the truth is that there is no one, not a single person who healed our daughter. It was God alone. I am not discounting what the medical staff did---because they were amazing. But Husband and I know it was a miracle. My mom said to me, "Babe, this is truly a miracle, she literally was saved."
This is not a story intended to make others feel sorry for us. It is a story to show God's miraculous grace. Once again, Nuggy's middle name is a testament to Him. We went from being told that our daughter may not live to having our smiling, happy beautiful perfect angel in our arms again. We were reminded to TRUST Him. "He is not surprised by what's happening," our friend told us, "trust Him." I admit, for a moment I lost my trust, for a moment I almost abandoned the one and only. But He held us together. He brought Husband and I closer on a level we did not know we could achieve. He gave us strength, he gave us hope, he gave us peace and most importantly he gave us our daughter back.
