tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4438166019237029582024-03-04T21:35:49.605-07:00Fred & ChanaWe do not remember the days, we remember the momentsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.comBlogger359125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-17272871153851008532013-02-18T19:22:00.003-07:002013-02-18T19:22:49.723-07:00Oh hey...Yep it's true. I took a giant hiatus from blogging (along with many other people...right?) and truthfully, I'd love to say <em>I'm back</em> but let's be honest...my life is crazier now than it ever has been and while I'd love to commit to blogging - I don't know if I could actually keep the promise.<br />
<br />
So for now, I'll say <em>oh hey...it's me</em>.<br />
<br />
Life has changed a bit in the last month. We had a baby. A healthy, beautiful baby boy. We named him Jax. He's beautiful. He looks just like his <a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/04/freddie.html" target="_blank">brother</a>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixISbO59o1cNVkHcd-WnkC1GLAJaZz04qZoF2O0XA9TGrVsirftqZPNntus5osZGsF1cfJxeD4TbMsgKRwXUH_H0mZRjp9nsyIkozAHs3FLuDOIg0Q7T4XR1E1_Zjpj7Ckqr6JuYS0D6c/s1600/wald2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixISbO59o1cNVkHcd-WnkC1GLAJaZz04qZoF2O0XA9TGrVsirftqZPNntus5osZGsF1cfJxeD4TbMsgKRwXUH_H0mZRjp9nsyIkozAHs3FLuDOIg0Q7T4XR1E1_Zjpj7Ckqr6JuYS0D6c/s320/wald2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So for the last six weeks, we've been trying to figure out life with a newborn. Which is part of the reason I wanted to start blogging again. I was so good about journaling when we had Freddie, but this time around - I'm not good at journaling. Or blogging. or remembering much at all.<br />
<br />
There are days when I think - <em>Man, I've got this down</em>. and then the moment I utter those words, Jax throws me for a loop (which typically involves lack of sleep, followed by tears from yours truly).<br />
<br />
I won't be back tracking the last million months of not blogging - but I will try to back track and blog about some of my favorite, hard, humorous moments from the last six weeks.<br />
<br />
So maybe I'll see you around?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-6593428311317666202012-05-23T20:47:00.000-07:002012-05-23T20:47:19.346-07:00The March of Dimes & FreddieImmediately after Freddie passed away, I knew I wanted to get involved with the March of Dimes. I didn't know whether we'd be in Utah or Arizona - but it didn't matter. This cause was something that we needed to be a part of.<br />
<br />
When we arrived at the NICU at St. Joseph's in Pheonix, the first person to talk to us about what we were going through, what we could expect, and what resources we had available was a representative from the March of Dimes.<br />
<br />
It's because of the March of Dimes and the research and technology they fund and develop, that we were able to spend a week with our little boy. While we obviously wish our story had a different ending, we're lucky to have even had those days. We think that every parent should get to spend as much time as possible with their babies. We hope that the money we raise through the March of Dimes gives more babies the chance to be born healthy and more NICU babies the medicine and technology they need to survive.<br />
<br />
Freddie was one of over a million babies born too soon. Use the links below to read our story.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/04/freddie.html" target="_blank"><strong>Freddie</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/04/beginning.html" target="_blank"><strong>The Beginning</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/04/blur.html" target="_blank"><strong>A Blur</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/04/thursday.html" target="_blank"><strong>Thursday</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/friday.html" target="_blank"><strong>Friday</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/saturday.html" target="_blank"><strong>Saturday</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/another-point-of-view.html" target="_blank"><strong>Another Point of View</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/one-month.html" target="_blank"><strong>One Month</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/no-catchy-title-here.html" target="_blank"><strong>No Catchy Title Here</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/tuesday-part-1.html" target="_blank"><strong>Tuesday Part 1</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/surrounded-by-angels-part-2.html" target="_blank"><strong>Surrounded by Angels (Tuesday Part 2)</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/tender-mercies.html" target="_blank"><strong>Tender Mercies</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/graduation.html" target="_blank"><strong>Graduation</strong></a><br />
<a href="http://www.chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/05/freddies-graveside.html" target="_blank"><strong>Freddie's Graveside Service</strong></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-13873191917611073552012-03-13T11:14:00.002-07:002012-03-13T11:14:54.404-07:00March for Babies - Sponsor me!<object height="276" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://ecards.marchforbabies.org/GushyGram.swf?gid=F9296B98CD5143BDACBCF96B7B7E564A&autoplay=true"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="flashvars" value="gid=F9296B98CD5143BDACBCF96B7B7E564A&autoplay=true"><embed src="http://ecards.marchforbabies.org/GushyGram.swf?gid=F9296B98CD5143BDACBCF96B7B7E564A&autoplay=true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" flashvars="gid=F9296B98CD5143BDACBCF96B7B7E564A&autoplay=true" width="320" height="276"></embed></object><br />
<a align="left" href="http://www.marchforbabies.org/mushy/ChanaWald" target="_blank">Click here to help me reach my goal!</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-39575751385893570552011-11-17T17:29:00.000-07:002011-11-17T17:29:50.808-07:00World Prematurity DayToday is the first annual World Prematurity Day. Obviously a day we hold dear in our hearts.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNASEUIbTkz4jTXxG4nm7EwPxTGOKnWrnGvEVOgxyaD7HpQaNxyp4wk619XxIBefoOd26ijw0FJN2Fi5v4GzgJW16BZYLDvID5Wj2tdM5jFp3nGBIoTuG3z8mWQdI5_wCkvoAlagdx1c4/s1600/wpd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNASEUIbTkz4jTXxG4nm7EwPxTGOKnWrnGvEVOgxyaD7HpQaNxyp4wk619XxIBefoOd26ijw0FJN2Fi5v4GzgJW16BZYLDvID5Wj2tdM5jFp3nGBIoTuG3z8mWQdI5_wCkvoAlagdx1c4/s320/wpd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just in case you don't know about our baby, read Freddie's story - <a href="http://chanaandfred.blogspot.com/2011/04/beginning.html" target="_blank"><b>starting here</b></a>.<br />
<br />
This post is extremely last minute and really, I should have taken the time to write something heartfelt that conveys how lucky I feel to be a mom - even if my baby isn't physically here with me right now.<br />
<br />
I'm so grateful for the NICU, for technology that made it possible for me to spend seven days with my son. I'm grateful for the nurses, doctors, and hospital staff who took care of my baby and for the friends, family, and strangers that care about our story. We are so lucky.<br />
<br />
In honor of World Prematurity Day, another NICU mom put together this video featuring some of heaven's best. Including our little boy (around the 1:00 mark).<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ek7636pPgn0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>We love you Freddie.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I really swear I'm coming back to blogging. I miss it. As soon as things settle a tiny bit in our neck of the woods - count on regular posts.</span></i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-31757332074191112822011-10-05T08:32:00.001-07:002011-10-05T08:33:25.911-07:006 months.<div><p>6 months ago the most important, beautiful, perfect little boy entered our lives.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, our time was cut short. However, during his 7 days on earth, he changed us and so many others. </p>
<p>Happy six month birthday baby boy. We love you and miss you more every single day. </p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSUKjAF6AGZXed-shyxK6V2WVYF5tDzkfVHtk2YPY00eXRPAlVVjPDvKXrj4zZHFCX_CMBDdojpHiTZiB_PUqj_sT1Jc4_ZwuFuL89uqwnMw15fbYfw94IMBwA2TYJXHsMpaPrx8TIsM/' /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-73093325276012726372011-09-14T08:02:00.000-07:002011-09-16T08:02:55.740-07:004 whole years<div style="text-align: center;"><b>From this</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWwLHU9mr_GcDM5REWsrCueJo0FOA59l4oVrAXlu0Et1465CL-Hw2pFEf82a936dzbu4TxmIRk4UF9SwhZ2LpozzgfrqJLqrtsAA8FHOk794CQAnRkBIOPZt1jVzZVA4m-2BLBZboRow/s1600/l_aa63e73c59bdb28a855747568db9bec4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWwLHU9mr_GcDM5REWsrCueJo0FOA59l4oVrAXlu0Et1465CL-Hw2pFEf82a936dzbu4TxmIRk4UF9SwhZ2LpozzgfrqJLqrtsAA8FHOk794CQAnRkBIOPZt1jVzZVA4m-2BLBZboRow/s320/l_aa63e73c59bdb28a855747568db9bec4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>to this</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhZP4nP-dSU-sRRrQ29c8GqFHPNCVa5ecXshfRnrRjLKGHIbEtQBbkQ-meAplb5VFpTeQKP23aaIvWFVBmSCTcdQC-uUMBOVLrO8NgrDPrXQhMdGAPqfQ533E-0wbiwUgZHn8tKC3syY/s1600/babyfred07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhZP4nP-dSU-sRRrQ29c8GqFHPNCVa5ecXshfRnrRjLKGHIbEtQBbkQ-meAplb5VFpTeQKP23aaIvWFVBmSCTcdQC-uUMBOVLrO8NgrDPrXQhMdGAPqfQ533E-0wbiwUgZHn8tKC3syY/s320/babyfred07.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I would say I'm pretty lucky. <br />
Lucky to have the best guy as my best friend, husband, and <i>baby daddy</i>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And to celebrate...we're going to</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flashcoo.com/nature/2009_Landscape_1680_Desktop_04/images/Waialae%20Beach%20Park%20Oahu%20Hawaii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.flashcoo.com/nature/2009_Landscape_1680_Desktop_04/images/Waialae%20Beach%20Park%20Oahu%20Hawaii.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">HAWAII!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>With our amazingly awesome friends <a href="http://pommervillefam.blogspot.com/">John and Amber</a>. <br />
Because really, vacations are more fun with friends.</i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-80709470513864925102011-09-09T08:43:00.000-07:002011-09-09T08:43:06.848-07:00A little updateWell I'll be...this blog still exists. A due to some pokes and prods by friends <span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span> I'm posting again. Where have I been? What is the latest? Well, sit back and I'll do my best to update you.<br />
<br />
So why haven't I blogged? Honestly it's because there is a lot of pressure. I've spent months blogging about Freddie. Blogging about our story, our pain, and our healing. While we'll always be working through good days and bad moments <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15px;">— I don't need to blog about it. And frankly, I don't want to. But i</span>t's hard to know what to write after writing about something so life changing and devastating. It's hard to flip the switch from writing about the pain in my heart to pet peeves, funny stories, and frivolous adventures. But I'll try.<br />
<br />
It's amazing how living back in Utah fits for us right now. When we moved back in May, it was to be near family to help us through "hell" and for Fred to find a job in the golf industry up here, as the season was ending in Arizona but beginning in Utah. We knew moving to Utah was the right thing, especially when soon after <span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span> Fred's course in Scottsdale was closed for the summer for remodeling.<br />
<br />
So we moved in with my parents.<br />
<br />
Our Summer has been insane. Which really is an understatement. In Arizona, a lot of time was spent...catching up on shows, reading, or occasionally hanging out with friends. In Utah, I've hardly had a chance to sit and watch tv. (I hope you gasped...because I did when I first realized this)<br />
<br />
Our dream was St. George. Utah County was for Fred to find something until we found something better in St. George. If that didn't happen <span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">— </span>then it was back to Arizona in October.<br />
<br />
It's funny how we think we're in charge of our lives. We aren't. Something you would think we would have grasped in April.<br />
<br />
It took months for Fred to get a job. And months is a really long time when you're living with your in laws, working from a spare bedroom, and adjusting from living a state away from family <span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span> to living in the same house.<br />
<br />
We were getting desperate. We looked at jobs in St. George and on one such trip down there following a job interview - it was clear that St. George wasn't where we needed to be. We talked about our "situation" <span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span> ya know the one in which I'm at the doctor at least once/twice a month. We <b><i>looved</i></b> our new doctor so starting over (again) with a new doctor after the progress we'd made was out of the question.<br />
<br />
As we drove home through the ugly of Utah, Fred got a phone call from a golf course in Lehi where he had interviewed WEEKS before. In the 30 seconds I had to feel sad about giving up my dream in St. G. for the unknown, we had a solid confirmation that Utah County was where we needed to be with a job offer for Fred.<br />
<br />
Fred literally started the next day and has been working nonstop since. He loves it. And I love him when he's happy...and not moping around the house.<br />
<br />
So here we are a month and a half after he's fallen into a position he loves, with the potential for growth within the company. We're still <i>living the dream</i> in my parent's basement <span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span> but hopefully looking to settle down a bit closer to Lehi (to reduce that horrendous commute Fred has each day and my occasional commute to Logan).<br />
<br />
<i>Thank you to those who missed me (insert giant smiley face). I'm sure you don't miss my comments on your blog, but in my break from writing on this blog</i><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span>I've also taken a break from reading blogs. There are 1000+ unread items in my google reader. Which is enough to make me want to go back into hiding. I'll slowly get back to commenting and catching up on your lives too but in the meantime<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span>are we friends on Facebook? If we aren't<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">—</span>let's change that.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-56679190280771077582011-08-02T11:10:00.000-07:002011-08-02T11:10:18.325-07:00A Perfect World<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWhfdD3J6pUMdGNuavjTRJiZH9_g67GzMiYRITw44lHpmV_Xr4-HkqzbGDSBg159c4tuRZF81TIec0sboRshi564iHrgqYQkR9gLVlr5DTVESMc7rw31Kj2X_dQzyiSLs4BqulnBW-pNA/s1600/196773_10150117782353922_778273921_6775484_2286831_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWhfdD3J6pUMdGNuavjTRJiZH9_g67GzMiYRITw44lHpmV_Xr4-HkqzbGDSBg159c4tuRZF81TIec0sboRshi564iHrgqYQkR9gLVlr5DTVESMc7rw31Kj2X_dQzyiSLs4BqulnBW-pNA/s320/196773_10150117782353922_778273921_6775484_2286831_n.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
In a perfect world, </div><div style="text-align: center;">I would have given birth to a beautiful, healthy, baby boy on Saturday. The picture above that was taken when I was 21 weeks (and was the last belly shot I took) would have been what I think I would have referenced as my "glory days" of my pregnancy as I'm guessing I would gotten as big as a house.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In this perfect world, </div><div style="text-align: center;">I would be on the brink of complaining about nursing, sleepless nights, and at the same time be completely and totally obsessed with my new babe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Except, the world isn't perfect. <a href="http://lds.org/plan/our-eternal-life?lang=eng">But the plan is.</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-50498404923379918352011-07-24T19:35:00.000-07:002011-07-24T19:35:03.965-07:00What Makes a Mother?My beautiful friend Hillary gave me this poem on Mother's day. After a rough weekend, I found it again and was able to feel a little peace that I so desperately needed. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>What Makes a Mother?</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">By Jennifer Wasik</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I thought of you and closed my eyes; and prayed to God today.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I asked, "What makes a Mother?" and I know I heard him say...</div><div style="text-align: center;">A Mother has a baby, this we know is true. <br />
But God can you be a Mother, when your baby's not with you?</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Yes you can!" He replied with confidence in his voice.</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I give many women babies, when they leave is not their choice. Some I send for a lifetime; and others for a day - And some I send to feel your womb, but there's no need to stay."</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I just don't understand this God, I want my baby here"</div><div style="text-align: center;">He took a breath and cleared his throat; and then I saw a tear. I wish I could show you, what your child is doing today. If you could see you child smile with other kids and say, "We go to earth to learn our lessons of Love and Life and Fear. My Mommy loved me oh so much, I got to come straight here.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I feel so lucky to have a mom, who had so much love for me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I learned my lesson very quickly, my mommy set me free.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I miss my mommy, oh so much but I visit her each day...</div><div style="text-align: center;">when she goes to sleep, on her pillow's where I lay.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek; and whisper in her ear,</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mommy don't be sad today, I'm your baby and I'm here."</div><div style="text-align: center;">So you see my sweet dear one, your child is okay. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Your baby is here in my home; and this is where he'll stay.</div><div style="text-align: center;">He will wait for you with me, until your lesson is through.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And on the day that you come home; he'll be at the gates for you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">So now you what makes a mother, it's the feeling in your heart.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's the love you had so much of; right from the very start.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-51182988101147336042011-07-13T11:00:00.000-07:002011-07-13T11:39:57.573-07:00Blurring the personal line<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSLF0jAvnpbHJ0c9VmOnzX9AQy9WR4CwCODaVHMWT4TALG6pR1dFQSmweR8qY4pEYeHzvPtg6IbrvPQgG1t3if20d8ixdNd2jB_ioPoYSH-J9AjJgHRrk0w3HmIbHyf9K8hYXWpwaJ_E/s1600/IMG_1099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSLF0jAvnpbHJ0c9VmOnzX9AQy9WR4CwCODaVHMWT4TALG6pR1dFQSmweR8qY4pEYeHzvPtg6IbrvPQgG1t3if20d8ixdNd2jB_ioPoYSH-J9AjJgHRrk0w3HmIbHyf9K8hYXWpwaJ_E/s320/IMG_1099.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Some of these questions were kind of hard. Hard to know what to say, hard to answer. My answers aren't perfect - and I'm sure aren't 100% correct (because the answers often depend on my surroundings) but here you go:<br />
<ol><li><b>What were the things people said to you that were the most comforting and helpful?</b><br />
Sometimes having someone just say that they were sorry and giving you a hug was all that was needed. Or for many of our friends that weren't in the area - a text with words saying that you were thinking about us, praying for us, and loved us was the perfect thing to say. Just knowing we weren't alone - and we were loved was a huge spirit booster. </li>
<li><b>What is comforting to say to someone who is going through such a traumatic and heart breaking event?</b><br />
There isn't a standard answer for this. The best thing is to listen to your gut. For me, I couldn't talk on the phone. I read each text I received but I hardly wrote back. So if you reach out to someone going through a heartbreaking event - just be there for them when they need you - without smothering or butting in. Don't say things like "everything happens for a reason", "at least he's in a better place", or "you'll have more babies". Because while those things are true - they are the last things you want to hear. Because yes, there is a plan. And you will survive. But it doesn't mean it's easy to accept.. and Heaven is a better place - but in your arms is a good place too. and Yes, hopefully there will be more babies - but I want MY baby. </li>
<li><b>What is helpful to have others do for you?</b><br />
When all was said and done and we had about a week of just "us" before graduation and burying Freddie. the thing that made that really helped were meals. I was soo against having meals brought in because we were okay. I could cook. But really - I couldn't. The thought of going to the grocery store made me break down and cry. We were so grateful for the meals brought in - it was so simple yet made life a tiny bit easier. Also having great friends who would just stop by to say hi and end up staying to chat or bring me a sonic drink - those things really helped too. </li>
<li><b>What is the hardest thing to hear from others when you know they don't mean it to be harmful or insensitive but to you it is?</b><br />
The hardest question for me is "so...how are you doing" with the sympathetic eyes and hand on my arm. Without fail that will make me cry so please don't ask. Because asking "how are you?" is so standard -ask how I am in a cheerful way so I immediately answer in a cheerful way. We know I'm not okay - but unless <b>I</b> bring it up please don't.<br />
Also, sometimes it's hard to hear the "miracle" stories of people that have been in the same situation. At first we wanted to hear about thriving babies just like Freddie but once we learned of his condition - I didn't care about any of those stories and I didn't want to hear them. Be sensitive when trying to shed a little hope on the situation because you may not not the whole story and someone else's miracle may cause more heartache.</li>
<li><b>Have you been given any answers (medically) as to why you just went into labor on your own so early?</b><br />
My doctor in Arizona simply stated it was an infection in my placenta. With no cause, no prevention, and no warning signs. She breezed over it very nonchalantly as though I had a stubbed my toe NOT lost my baby. However, my new doctor in Utah doesn't think it was an infection entirely. I am undergoing tests to see if there is anything else that could have caused it. At this point - things are indicating a complete fluke.</li>
<li><b>Do you think you'll ever try to have a baby again?</b><br />
The first time I was asked this question - i almost laughed. then cried. Having a baby was obviously something we wanted and want very much. I have a baby. I am a mother. But we want more than anything to bring a healthy baby home. Sure the thought of being pregnant is terrifying but I have faith that we will have babies. </li>
<li><b>How long do you think you'll wait to have a baby?</b><br />
My Arizona and Utah doctors agreed that it is smartest to undergo a number of tests and procedures before getting pregnant again. Both doctors think it was a complete fluke but we aren't about to chance it. Hopefully I'll be done with the tests soon and we'll if anything needs to happen medically before trying to have a baby again.</li>
<li><b>Did they try to give you anything to stop your labor?</b><br />
No. When I arrived at the hospital I was already dilated to a 10 and my water was on the verge of breaking. Unfortunately there was nothing they could do but prep for a 23-week old baby to be delivered. Though in the delivery room - I might have referenced Grey's Anatomy telling them how to stop my labor.</li>
<li><b>Do you think you'll ever get over this?</b><br />
No. Absolutely not. I hope to eventually get to the point where I don't cry every day and that I can speak to people about our experience without choking up but I will never get over losing my baby.</li>
<li><b>Could this happen again?</b><br />
Possibly. Until we know if there are other causes - we don't know what our risks are.</li>
<li><b>How is Fred?</b><br />
Fred is strong. He's had a really hard time, but silently. Recently, we bought him a dirt bike - and though some don't approve of such a large purchase at a time when we're in the unknown - its made a world of difference. Getting on a dirt bike and escaping is a way for him to cope and feel happiness. The smile its put back on his face is worth every. single. dime.</li>
<li><b>What are you doing to cope?</b><br />
I'm staying busy. When I'm busy I don't have time to dwell on the fact that I should be as big as a house right now. I should be whining about my swollen ankles, inability to sleep, or the fact that my feet have disappeared. Busy is good.</li>
</ol><div>Hopefully I covered all the questions - at least the most commonly asked ones. <br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000; font-size: large;">Thank you for reading, for caring, for commenting, and for helping me heal through this here blog. Hopefully our experiences have or will help you or someone you know</span></b></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-85300071526897153592011-06-28T13:42:00.000-07:002011-06-28T13:42:24.525-07:00It's been awhile...I don't even know where to begin this post. Should I start with telling you how it's felt kind of nice to have one area in my life where I've been able to disappear? Because it has been.<br />
<br />
or perhaps tell you that we're okay. we're surviving. we have fun, hang out with friends, and even laugh - things I honestly thought I wouldn't never be able to do after losing my baby.<br />
<br />
We're approaching what would have been Freddie's 3-month birthday and things have drastically changed in our lives. In the last few months we had our baby, lost our baby, graduated from college, buried our baby in Utah, moved from Arizona to Utah, moved in with my parents, and tried to feel some kind of normalcy in a world that doesn't stop.<br />
<br />
Things have been non-stop insane and busy. Which in some ways is good. Busy is good for me. I only cry a tiny bit when things are busy.<br />
<br />
We've been asked a ton of questions from people ranging from friends to strangers. Because of the outpouring of love and support, I don't feel like people are butting in. Yes, this is our struggle. But if by<b> not</b> holding it in we can heal a little more, help someone else, or just get thoughts/feelings off our (my) chest - then I don't mind being an open book.<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;">With that being said, if you have a question...ask it. Now's your chance to ask the question you're wondering about, or want to ask me in person but don't dare. I don't mind. Feel free to leave a question in the comments section with or without your name - I'll do my best to answer all questions in a post next week.</span></b><br />
<br />
<i>I plan to get back to my regular posts - griping, complaining, or making fun of my husband but I don't feel like I'm at that point yet. So bear with me. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i><br />
</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-54776333546443651302011-05-26T12:54:00.002-07:002011-05-26T12:54:00.189-07:00Freddie's Graveside<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUik1LoZFwuOOE_YHjlyEEjgBwyV_ilPbJJW6Vt5Tog6otL47Jkmu4B9K0LA85mhKnxIa7P59P5CU8Msl_qQqeCMugvJceBUibyT2Es5D3whLopEM6NF6SLBBIbdrHawdZspBqvCZmGOY/s1600/DSC_0310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUik1LoZFwuOOE_YHjlyEEjgBwyV_ilPbJJW6Vt5Tog6otL47Jkmu4B9K0LA85mhKnxIa7P59P5CU8Msl_qQqeCMugvJceBUibyT2Es5D3whLopEM6NF6SLBBIbdrHawdZspBqvCZmGOY/s400/DSC_0310.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>On Saturday, April 23rd we buried our baby.</b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We held a graveside service for our son, inviting only close friends and family.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It was windy. cold. and not sunny like the weather had promised.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9iJCZvucGigPzaKFeDDtz-4ZfheD8dVf1CPt6una12CC0q2eHx3tklRn6obP8D7pQipQE0jiCwDjh9CkMfQ2drOp_EwaA8Kn80bouTzPKxBd17HF5BJ7YUhvpxwlQgAWEAPSEpF9bjlA/s1600/DSC_0307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9iJCZvucGigPzaKFeDDtz-4ZfheD8dVf1CPt6una12CC0q2eHx3tklRn6obP8D7pQipQE0jiCwDjh9CkMfQ2drOp_EwaA8Kn80bouTzPKxBd17HF5BJ7YUhvpxwlQgAWEAPSEpF9bjlA/s400/DSC_0307.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98QdOEVnTKvSHNTW_8iSLYpDMsQDP-Nnm-jkxAKRG9TXEBrGPApNPEab5IWkf1tCZ23D1Jc-v9W7gIb5FFHxzFR4sjY54j6FVHUyP7JKyDaRmQnVnHDA9mEqj56pfQSG2vEZoSap_UbU/s1600/DSC_0315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98QdOEVnTKvSHNTW_8iSLYpDMsQDP-Nnm-jkxAKRG9TXEBrGPApNPEab5IWkf1tCZ23D1Jc-v9W7gIb5FFHxzFR4sjY54j6FVHUyP7JKyDaRmQnVnHDA9mEqj56pfQSG2vEZoSap_UbU/s400/DSC_0315.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFO8S4zT6Ze4MAXuKUYf8MgBB7_Sc2j-SwsMkTElS_iOVCbHHulyZXy6NbkIbwETPGo1JbA_r4wRjgWruh5jWVwhGLPSH2gCQi3TJ_Eh29jvENbuDUEJ6Bys3ilfZjvoQB14V-Db5pV8/s1600/DSC_0317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFO8S4zT6Ze4MAXuKUYf8MgBB7_Sc2j-SwsMkTElS_iOVCbHHulyZXy6NbkIbwETPGo1JbA_r4wRjgWruh5jWVwhGLPSH2gCQi3TJ_Eh29jvENbuDUEJ6Bys3ilfZjvoQB14V-Db5pV8/s400/DSC_0317.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4U3-h7zay9XQou5DP8J2OnyKxwyPu8Ogv_uStjHcAaX4UepGFEF63H7byR1N01bVNVQDilZibuhH04Cy6C7zXrY0Vf2aEMcxqXt0RZox2KpTc6lULbcSKR-EMMDIZ3KzAvrZSYR0_FDs/s1600/DSC_0318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4U3-h7zay9XQou5DP8J2OnyKxwyPu8Ogv_uStjHcAaX4UepGFEF63H7byR1N01bVNVQDilZibuhH04Cy6C7zXrY0Vf2aEMcxqXt0RZox2KpTc6lULbcSKR-EMMDIZ3KzAvrZSYR0_FDs/s400/DSC_0318.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TlwFNYg6OnbBFhZ9SM3mtM80LSPTiAjXM-Xd47rWoSSugEDT9xhctUoLz53f7cL5XRvHl8NVCzNMPzAldIi3T16vaNFNd0gUDekbR7jFbaoGBk16oC41b5UPNx2WLioliwIRMW4irnQ/s1600/DSC_0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TlwFNYg6OnbBFhZ9SM3mtM80LSPTiAjXM-Xd47rWoSSugEDT9xhctUoLz53f7cL5XRvHl8NVCzNMPzAldIi3T16vaNFNd0gUDekbR7jFbaoGBk16oC41b5UPNx2WLioliwIRMW4irnQ/s400/DSC_0338.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrQ7woxJ5tV0rALcTfQ7KSwhhwZeZGedwtiG7WoBVy5VgTWrA9Y_y0FhyWR6XkFC1Z6oceAG0ZuKSzmHsNmyzmcENMD_okrIIp9woRVzEB5o1-rNhkuGIRVqn1V_l23scC9K1hatQsUk/s1600/DSC_0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrQ7woxJ5tV0rALcTfQ7KSwhhwZeZGedwtiG7WoBVy5VgTWrA9Y_y0FhyWR6XkFC1Z6oceAG0ZuKSzmHsNmyzmcENMD_okrIIp9woRVzEB5o1-rNhkuGIRVqn1V_l23scC9K1hatQsUk/s400/DSC_0354.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8PX4mZI5HEELOfsykw9Gif1eQcyyhDSTQomhtCl7Up4LcfT8CshROrJsSgYWsDfkPXq9Tz_lS1lBcwnqv09HRcEmmcdAt36EhivhnqKYl4dTpc1oTDB7iyYKJucUkf2Z5sjfOtMg9ls/s1600/DSC_0373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8PX4mZI5HEELOfsykw9Gif1eQcyyhDSTQomhtCl7Up4LcfT8CshROrJsSgYWsDfkPXq9Tz_lS1lBcwnqv09HRcEmmcdAt36EhivhnqKYl4dTpc1oTDB7iyYKJucUkf2Z5sjfOtMg9ls/s400/DSC_0373.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>My dad conducted and spoke briefly about our son and the Savior, my best friends sang Families Can Be Together Forever, Fred spoke, my sister Sydney read a poem, we all released balloons in honor of Freddie, and Fred's father dedicated the grave.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It was perfect.<br />
</span></div>I wanted to share the talk Fred gave. He did such an amazing job and I know our little boy was there and was so proud.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>It’s hard to know where to begin in speaking about Freddie’s short journey here on Earth. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>As parents, we all want the best for our children. For us, the best for Freddie involved the hardest decision and heartache ever imaginable. We had faith the Lord had a plan and the faith to follow our promptings as hard as it might be.<br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We were so blessed to be able to spend a week with our perfect son. To have precious memories to hold on to of his sweet personality. We wish that everyone was able to meet Freddie. He had a spirit about him that was indescribable. At 23 weeks, he was born this tiny, perfect baby. He had long bony fingers, HUGE feet, eyelashes, Chana’s chin, my ears, and a good sized Taylor nose. He was born bald but by day 5 he had fuzzy hair and a unibrow. He was beautiful.<br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>There was nothing better than sitting beside him with his tiny fingers wrapped around yours. He was always willing to hold your hand until you wore out your welcome – at which time he would quickly pull his hand out of yours and NOT give it back. Chana’s favorite thing was to tickle Freddie’s big feet. He immediately reacted by pulling his feet away, spreading his toes, and scrunching his face in annoyance. <br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We once fought over the duty of changing diapers when the baby came – however when our story changed and we were given the opportunity to change his tiny diaper a handful of times it was something we almost fought over to be able to do it. I never thought I would be excited or come running to change a diaper. <br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Holding our son was the greatest moment of our lives. How something so small and almost weightless could capture your heart so completely was amazing.<br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>The final moments we had with our son only solidified our testimonies of the Gospel as we could feel the comfort and peace of Heaven surrounding us. We knew this was part of God’s plan and that our son had an important mission to complete in Heaven. As one of God’s most valiant sons, he had only needed to come to Earth to gain a body. We are so grateful he chose us. This little boy has changed our lives and the lives of so many others in his short journey. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We know we will see him again and that we will be able to raise our perfect son. In the meantime, we have a guardian angel watching over us, preparing our future children, and serving valiantly in Heaven.<br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Freddie – Thank you for picking us. We love you more than words could ever convey. Thank you for your perfect example. We will be working hard to make it back to you. We pray that you will always be with us. We hope you’re telling your brothers and sisters how great but sometimes annoying we may are and that you’ll watch over the rest of us.<br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We are so proud of you and your perfect example. We’re proud to be your parents.We couldn’t ask for a more perfect son to carry on my name.<br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Fred Joseph Wald VI you will be missed, celebrated, and will always hold a giant piece of our hearts. We know we will see you again and can’t wait for that sweet reunion.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We love you.</i></span><br />
<br />
We cried because we miss our little boy. We smiled because we have memories of our week with him.<br />
We know he's safe and whole and most importantly happy. We know we'll see him again.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-158718749509282092011-05-23T08:33:00.001-07:002011-05-23T08:33:00.277-07:00GraduationLife is hard. No one should ever have to go through this trial and I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone. I know that I couldn't get through this without a number of things - the support of our families, friends, and even strangers, my testimony of the Gospel, and Fred.<br />
<br />
Fred has truly been my rock during this. We're both grieving beyond belief but Fred is the strong one. The one who holds me when I sob (only grimacing slightly when tears are mixed with boogers), who tells me I'm beautiful when I haven't worn make up in weeks and I look like I've aged 40 years and been hit by a truck (to which he says "no, not a truck. Maybe just a mini van"), and who tells me over and over again how we're going to be okay and that we can do this because we're not alone. He is constantly taking care of me whether it's finding someone to come check on me during the day (because being alone is the hardest), bringing me a sonic drink, or surprising me by having one of my good friends Emily come do my nasty hair the night before Freddie's graveside (because he knew how gross I felt with 4-inch roots).<br />
<br />
On April 21st, we were able to celebrate a little despite everything that has been going on.<br />
Fred graduated from school! Fred is the first in his family to graduate from college. Ever.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKUUhRUHM8dA-Ij8X4Ms48odBZirOK2bSg5BbK4ApdPKsa4gvv_R4Oxwidz6DVea4BZxyO14fb3ggrcJLEX9OBW2At9GQBnDpxNLd_MnBFEDSFLPae27B9_o1hdC4LuUnzEWyGgVlMe5s/s1600/DSC_0141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKUUhRUHM8dA-Ij8X4Ms48odBZirOK2bSg5BbK4ApdPKsa4gvv_R4Oxwidz6DVea4BZxyO14fb3ggrcJLEX9OBW2At9GQBnDpxNLd_MnBFEDSFLPae27B9_o1hdC4LuUnzEWyGgVlMe5s/s320/DSC_0141.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Our lives were turned upside down just a week before finals and his graduation. He was able to keep it together to finish school, take his finals, and graduate. I'm so proud of his accomplishment and hard work. He worked hard to graduate as one of the best in his class.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNoP-f4gaFEytZbtFq-sAkWP26UiK00yCKgHWeQTNBTKEMzUE9zQYQfqf6I6TCLF8xab0V3qJamNkpFZKzQf2Sikt_YZgpYLBgzhrQ9TAI7p8wPihYZfmBiIyqGt9k9cm2f5YJ2kURhUI/s1600/DSC_0198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNoP-f4gaFEytZbtFq-sAkWP26UiK00yCKgHWeQTNBTKEMzUE9zQYQfqf6I6TCLF8xab0V3qJamNkpFZKzQf2Sikt_YZgpYLBgzhrQ9TAI7p8wPihYZfmBiIyqGt9k9cm2f5YJ2kURhUI/s320/DSC_0198.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and his older sister Mandy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYW8Q6WGFhQ08feAHMDtMSpk2pfadEkKDpcKP-wlHYM_jT3PTeZfZ3zc66RoN9BdjY-BbB8iMavNR6BqS0zYbqWscR-ehIMVwm2vwln3u6mnDbLFxgh_5OzWSYrXAJVKteinBMHEVvog/s1600/DSC_0190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYW8Q6WGFhQ08feAHMDtMSpk2pfadEkKDpcKP-wlHYM_jT3PTeZfZ3zc66RoN9BdjY-BbB8iMavNR6BqS0zYbqWscR-ehIMVwm2vwln3u6mnDbLFxgh_5OzWSYrXAJVKteinBMHEVvog/s320/DSC_0190.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and his proud parents</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmUh2Y8f51vKVDTVv6mn0V72Vgf4mthb8aV9RaIlUm3VdXHvrrzWvzvfWbZJwbsZwPJUv9OQbQwBZpYSwQJrIOElbyRRo12sT7_kcHvbon9xEZYZIZVXo68vaLveTsVX_FMC1yjIG7X4/s1600/DSC_0194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmUh2Y8f51vKVDTVv6mn0V72Vgf4mthb8aV9RaIlUm3VdXHvrrzWvzvfWbZJwbsZwPJUv9OQbQwBZpYSwQJrIOElbyRRo12sT7_kcHvbon9xEZYZIZVXo68vaLveTsVX_FMC1yjIG7X4/s320/DSC_0194.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and his hot wife</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I wish I could find the words to express how grateful I am for him. We've grown more in the last few weeks then in the last few years - He deserves credit for keeping me sane and for any strength that you think I may have.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-47473904121545112722011-05-20T13:22:00.000-07:002011-05-20T13:22:00.606-07:00Tender Mercies<b><i>I wrote this the day after Freddie's passing. Instead of changing all of the language to seem as if I wrote it today I decided to keep it as is.</i></b><br />
<br />
Before all of "this" I never fully understood what a tender mercy was. They talked about them all the time in conference talks and at church but honestly I had no idea what they were talking about. However, after the week we've had there have been <i>so many</i> tender mercies from the Lord and I finally know what it means.<br />
<br />
I wanted to share a couple instances that meant so much to us.<br />
<br />
Before last week, we hadn't planned on delivering with my OB or in Arizona at all. We've wanted to move back to Utah for the Summer so that we could be closer to family when the baby came and Fred would be able to get more experience with a busier golf season.<br />
<br />
Upon going into labor, we found ourselves wishing we were in Utah simply because in our situation we wanted to be surrounded by LDS people. People who wouldn't look at us strangely if we asked to do a blessing or gawk at my funny under clothes. People who would share experiences or thoughts with an LDS perspective, and have compassion knowing what we believe in and how to possibly comfort us.<br />
<br />
Not to say that non-LDS people don't do any of those things. Because we know they do...<br />
<br />
After delivery, I was assigned a new nurse. We were scared. worried. and still in complete shock that we had just had a baby. My new nurse came in, introduced herself, and told us that soon we would be able to see our little boy. When she was leaving, she said, "Are you LDS?" we said yes. Unsure of where this could be going...She then said "I thought so. I'm LDS too and if you guys would like to do a blessing for you and for the baby that would be okay. We can make sure it happens before they life flight him."<br />
<br />
Immediately we felt comfortable and were able to openly discuss what we'd like to happen before we had to say goodbye to our baby as he left for a different hospital.<br />
<br />
My nurse was great. She was very supportive and made sure that our priority was to get me out of there as soon as possible so we could get to where our baby was.<br />
<br />
After leaving that hospital to basically take residence at another, we constantly wished that we had an LDS nurse, social worker, or doctor. We were surrounded by professionals all week that didn't seem to have the compassion or faith that we did. They were all wonderful but very matter-of-fact and blunt in regards to our situation. There was less about the after and more about the death, which made everything even harder.<br />
<br />
Tuesday, April 12th, was our hardest day. We knew the decision we had to make and dreaded it. About half way through the day (after our meeting with the doctors), our nurse Kerri approached us at Freddie's bedside and said, "I noticed you guys were LDS. I am too. I also lost a child - so while I can't imagine what you're going through in this situation. I do know the pain of losing a child. Can you imagine going through this without the knowledge that we have?"<br />
<br />
We immediately teared up and felt a huge comfort. Through tears I told her that we had been praying for her. We knew that she was meant to be our nurse <b>especially</b> on that day. Kerri spent a lot of her time that day talking to us about her experience losing her daughter 20 years before and how her testimony has grown since. I know that she was inspired to tell us the things she did and while she even said that she hoped what she had to say helped in some way, she helped us in ways she may never know.<br />
<br />
One thing that she said really touched me. She said that when she went through her similar trial, she felt as though she had a choice. To let this define her in a way that made her bitter, angry, and different for the rest of her life or she could use this experience to shape her into a stronger person, mother, and wife and allow the atonement to take her burden and make her a better person. She chose to move forward to be a better person. She said that even 20 years later it still made her cry but that the more she talked about it the better she felt. She said that someday we would be in the situation where our story would be one that touched someone else's life.<br />
<br />
I am so grateful for the all of the tender mercies we've received and continue to receive. This is something that we will never get over - but that is the beauty of it. Little Freddie has changed our lives, and we are being molded into what we hope will someday be stronger versions of ourselves. This trial is one that no one should ever have to go through, we hope that someday we can help another family in some small way.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-77783234814771216422011-05-16T11:48:00.000-07:002011-05-16T11:48:00.279-07:00Surrounded by Angels (Part 2)<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Just after 1:30, our nurse came to get us. As she led us down the hall, I couldn't help but feel like I was being led to my death. She led us to another office where our doctor, social worker, and the neurologist were waiting. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We sat down. The doctors began to fumble in the unfamiliar setting to pull up the scans to compare the previous week's and that morning's images. The neurologist couldn't figure out how to get the images side by side and how to use the mouse to point out specific things - as he struggled trying to get the right image and get them to be side-by-side I nearly had an anxiety attack. I was so close to yelling "I don't care about the side by side. JUST TALK TO US!!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But I sat there. In silence. telling myself to breathe.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They showed us the images. Our hopes were destroyed. That miracle we'd been looking for wasn't going to happen. Things weren't better - but they weren't really worse. His brain hemmoraging had progressed but only slightly. We asked questions making sure that there wasn't a glimmer of hope some place we hadn't thought of. Again we were told he would be paralyzed on the left side of his body. Because he had basically suffered a severe stroke, he would never walk, talk, or do anything for himself. He had a very high chance of being severely mentally handicapped and would have some degree of cerebral palsy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Again we were told of our options. To either keep sustaining him and choosing that outcome as his best case scenario or to let him go - comfortably and peacefully. We cried. They told us that there was no rush. That the parent room would continue to be ours as long as we needed.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I asked about pain because I just wanted to make sure he wasn't suffering now or ever. Fred commented about how we didn't think it was fair to keep him trapped in a body he couldn't use, to which the doctors looked at us as if we were confused.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We talked about quality of life. Discussing whether we were prolonging the inevitable and only keeping him for selfish reasons. We were reassured that there was no rush - but you could tell my our doctor's tone that she didn't expect him to make it much longer in the state he was in.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We knew the answer. We had had it confirmed multiple times. Freddie's journey was finished. He had come to Earth for what he needed and was simply hanging on because we needed him. We hadn't been able to say goodbye, yet in this moment we knew that was what needed to happen. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We told the doctors - they all seemed surprised that we would choose to have it happen that day. Telling us that we didn't need to rush. But I knew there was no way I could spend another night in that hospital knowing it was coming. It was time. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I asked what we did from there - because there was no way I could utter the words to end his journey. Our nurse who had been silent the whole time simply said, "all you have to say is that you're ready to hold him. As soon as you're ready, we'll make it happen".</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We left the room feeling a sense of comfort, relief, sadness, and heartache all rolled into one. We told my family who immediately began to try to get a hold of Holly to come take pictures that evening. Knowing that his journey would end that night, my parents set off to change my sister's flights (once again), renew their rental car (once again) and see what they could figure out with the photographer.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We went in next to Freddie and just sat. Trying to absorb every inch of him. Because we had made the decision they weren't going to give him any additional transfusions or progressive care. They were to keep him where he was essentially. Our nurse was so sweet and will actually receive her own post. She sat and talked to us but then would give us our space to spend time with our baby. She was the nurse we needed that day (more on that in her post).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It was so strange but as we sat there next to Freddie, for the first time in a week I felt a glimmer of happiness. At that moment, I knew this was something I could handle. God wouldn't give us something we couldn't do - so we could do this. I felt this overwhelming peace and comfort. There was this feeling surrounding him that you couldn't help but feel peace. Fred and I were able to openly discuss where we would bury him, how we felt, and how lucky we had been to have the chance to be with our little boy for a whole week - without tears. We were just happy. Happy to have this time together as a family. Happy to have had a week to spend with our son - holding his hand, singing him songs, and tickling his feet. Happy to know he wasn't going to be in pain or have to struggle. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We didn't know when it was going to happen. It was kind of something that we were waiting to see when a photographer could come. We sat next to him all afternoon, only leaving when sterile procedures were going on. Unfortunately, Holly was unable to come due to her schedule. Our nurse had told us about a nurse that could take pictures so we thought it was an option though we weren't excited about it. As we tried to figure something out, I made a last minute phone call to my good friend Hillary. It was probably around 5pm. I called Hillary and just asked if maybe she would call her photographer friend <a href="http://startinphotoblog.com/"><b>Aubry</b></a> to see if <i>maybe</i> Aubry would be willing to come take pictures. I had never met Aubry - but I knew she took <a href="http://startinphotoblog.com/">amazing pictures</a>. Hillary quickly called Aubry who dropped everything and worked it out to come. She wouldn't be able to make it out there until about 9:00 but she would be there.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Then it turned into the waiting game again - but this time without the pain, dispare, and utter devastation. We were still all of those things but we couldn't feel it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Our room was cleaned up, bags removed and taken to the car. We spent the evening rotating with Freddie and trying to get as much time with him as we could. When 7:00 came, I was actually devastated to see our nurse go. I almost begged her to stay on until we too were ready to leave. Our night nurse was one that had been with Freddie quite a bit before. She wasn't unfriendly but wasn't overly friendly either. That night because she knew of the events that were to take place, she was incredibly nice. She opened up to tell us that she too had lost a child. While she didn't say much, she did say how things would get better and that we would be happy again.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><i>Note: There is no way I can fully describe the experiences we had this night and I guess there isn't a reason I need to. I wish I could have bottled the feelings and comfort we felt that night. To share with others, hold on to during our hard times, and to feel forever. I can't put into words everything that we experienced as we returned our son to our Heavenly Father that night but I hope that in reading this that you too can feel the Spirit and know of our testimonies.</i></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">At about 9:30, Aubry and Hillary got there. The nurses had set up curtains around Freddie so that we could have a little privacy. Luckily, there was only one other baby in his pod and his parents weren't visiting so we were able to bring everyone back. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We were as ready as we were ever going to be. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The nurses brought over a rocking chair and they moved his bed a little to give more room for us to sit with him. They were going to sedate him to keep him comfortable and calm. They would remove what they could and we would hold him as he was still hooked up to the ventilator. As soon as we were ready, they would disconnect his ventilator switching to manual oxygen and we would go back to the parent room where we would say goodbye in private. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As they prepared his sedation, the oxygen, and everything else I just stood next to him. He was so beautiful as he laid there calmly. As I stood there holding his hand, all of a sudden his heart rate spiked and for the first time in a week I was pushed aside because something wasn't right. He was crashing. I have never been so scared. I knew it was the end but this wasn't the end that we'd planned. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOOKQ1imXluGf-MWB0feDmcgoEb1x5EPS6c6kYHPu_mcZS4vwBQSgiJ3ttAqEjwjmlA7z4nJvi9bp_RRJDvrwAdCr-JDV22xrxUTH0BY-m0c64nHNwTGX67oa39FAcoeLBHW1dCU-9Jk/s1600/babyfred001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOOKQ1imXluGf-MWB0feDmcgoEb1x5EPS6c6kYHPu_mcZS4vwBQSgiJ3ttAqEjwjmlA7z4nJvi9bp_RRJDvrwAdCr-JDV22xrxUTH0BY-m0c64nHNwTGX67oa39FAcoeLBHW1dCU-9Jk/s320/babyfred001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Somehow his air tube had come out, they had to rush to stabilize him and give him manual breaths. His doctor strongly suggested that we come hold him then and make this our goodbye. I couldn't move. I sat there paralyzed unable to answer. She then asked if we wanted them to hook him back up to the ventilator - she must have asked a few times before it registered because I then semi-yelled "I don't know! I can't make that decision!" Fred instructed her to hook him back up. I began feeling guilty - what if this was him being called home and we made them bring him back. But then Fred told me we were okay. Freddie needed us to say goodbye to him the way we had planned so that WE could have the closure we needed. They did and once they stabilized him they had me go over and sit in the rocking chair. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivsbLVOgw0j3Vh41s5GMLiceXbWoMWyw7Mnpcvs9mM-HDMaorGcq0pckIsKyH6YnDBKW6J6Ty2Kkp-8qshk84zy8ZHbLhd-fBjjEzxYzimxjsOdnj_hHYd6PX09-s7Yt-KweDH0nzA3eY/s1600/babyfred006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivsbLVOgw0j3Vh41s5GMLiceXbWoMWyw7Mnpcvs9mM-HDMaorGcq0pckIsKyH6YnDBKW6J6Ty2Kkp-8qshk84zy8ZHbLhd-fBjjEzxYzimxjsOdnj_hHYd6PX09-s7Yt-KweDH0nzA3eY/s320/babyfred006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVXy5d7T3AXSs47BkRjVwarmW5QEizR-Ahj2XFJaw32Z3FNUuvqqqhGWppYSH21XrQcYyM9-rfaTYAXjLLkIPGIKycQVbNQC8CGFp8FDH_TeaJcD4kh1fI6TyaXJutQ72aYoDdOGvrHE/s1600/babyfred013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVXy5d7T3AXSs47BkRjVwarmW5QEizR-Ahj2XFJaw32Z3FNUuvqqqhGWppYSH21XrQcYyM9-rfaTYAXjLLkIPGIKycQVbNQC8CGFp8FDH_TeaJcD4kh1fI6TyaXJutQ72aYoDdOGvrHE/s320/babyfred013.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggx7rMlNyW0OHsu41fzio7_LagXEzHqUzoWkBQVWSWiFv1gtvizpqVstnoHqVm3T_C6GH4bQUgKjBnZImNutek9IvjWAZAo0ZRqB8PI5qeA8nKBChA1xU8gE6WjNSGUV4Jkyqmp8yymM4/s1600/babyfred025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggx7rMlNyW0OHsu41fzio7_LagXEzHqUzoWkBQVWSWiFv1gtvizpqVstnoHqVm3T_C6GH4bQUgKjBnZImNutek9IvjWAZAo0ZRqB8PI5qeA8nKBChA1xU8gE6WjNSGUV4Jkyqmp8yymM4/s320/babyfred025.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They put a warm blanket on my arm and placed my son in my arms for the first time in both of our lives. He was my son. My miracle. My greatest achievement.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUCDsqoWRMh_GjULanh3KXS4xRpsRHnPIt4lOUQEfryexSaQtO0G5H7WepSzU0TwQsFcASo09rpU1-yHpiaGbriYAkSUIZ4ziq8BLiuwMSFCO-aORrwqWTOl23OuvT_iV3nsp7V9jhPk/s1600/babyfred057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUCDsqoWRMh_GjULanh3KXS4xRpsRHnPIt4lOUQEfryexSaQtO0G5H7WepSzU0TwQsFcASo09rpU1-yHpiaGbriYAkSUIZ4ziq8BLiuwMSFCO-aORrwqWTOl23OuvT_iV3nsp7V9jhPk/s320/babyfred057.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRUbxOl1nKwpDH6e1k9Aos-gIHQNFJzU6Aih2zCcHSqVKMUvlYGczDCuCmUx25J4usF-aUQgWyuF1WaRpedGqLnBKKFbFhsa13raNUT0llaKCCekiaaWK65gllKqT9dXtqmlkBU3Af8Bo/s1600/babyfred084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRUbxOl1nKwpDH6e1k9Aos-gIHQNFJzU6Aih2zCcHSqVKMUvlYGczDCuCmUx25J4usF-aUQgWyuF1WaRpedGqLnBKKFbFhsa13raNUT0llaKCCekiaaWK65gllKqT9dXtqmlkBU3Af8Bo/s320/babyfred084.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJsUR4jM_FfJWFK3uVKh9c0RoJ4uDPQQ4NIgSAkxWyOvWhksVjXJa4khuDQHFqobO2eR2uSUT68Oe4X9VTioyfduI-Jz5Vo3dSPDmHmR3uiuVuLCCvJmekmjBwk7T5n6gnP4OGPyVPLsg/s1600/babyfred098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJsUR4jM_FfJWFK3uVKh9c0RoJ4uDPQQ4NIgSAkxWyOvWhksVjXJa4khuDQHFqobO2eR2uSUT68Oe4X9VTioyfduI-Jz5Vo3dSPDmHmR3uiuVuLCCvJmekmjBwk7T5n6gnP4OGPyVPLsg/s320/babyfred098.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghH_WwVewNmy7RauIWTh6Sgmw-Oy3mio1_eHYjdKl6XCwpKF-qYbq_Kz-Mf_7Pu7MNdo867UTj5PJhMwfMVplU2e9aP1nN1aTHQ_GC1RvhzIFkOHUbMgiel07qajhhmU2twaLAxeIPGWQ/s1600/babyfred140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghH_WwVewNmy7RauIWTh6Sgmw-Oy3mio1_eHYjdKl6XCwpKF-qYbq_Kz-Mf_7Pu7MNdo867UTj5PJhMwfMVplU2e9aP1nN1aTHQ_GC1RvhzIFkOHUbMgiel07qajhhmU2twaLAxeIPGWQ/s320/babyfred140.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He was so tiny. Holding his 1lb 3oz body was the greatest moment of my life. He was the most important thing in the world and nothing else mattered. I just cried. Fred sat next to me and held both little Freddie and me. Our family came up and got to meet him close up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgQqEsSb6zAIL5WaKPw7uH-zeenJsJwfM5-syWy_J3zo7oT1DI1mJa0Mw9gH1XLyh2KOy0oveNu1LKq67RdFc_EtjdCPogNrOb_2TWFdLOO8XIzbxdeBx-4lNXylgpsAQD68JEt253pA/s1600/babyfred100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YU2_6lKGOtrPgxzvjsnH9vw-kih-Vw2xrmfSdyGmSJJFUDXT9R_s-u-uOx-2JtQNTmfnT81HQrSX6qcXYNxXTubsCrD7X43y8ZmW7fq0-pXBU_GefwvJSrc0X6AqJvqTfbiAuSn6Qxo/s1600/babyfred204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YU2_6lKGOtrPgxzvjsnH9vw-kih-Vw2xrmfSdyGmSJJFUDXT9R_s-u-uOx-2JtQNTmfnT81HQrSX6qcXYNxXTubsCrD7X43y8ZmW7fq0-pXBU_GefwvJSrc0X6AqJvqTfbiAuSn6Qxo/s320/babyfred204.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After a while I switched with Fred so he could hold him. Seeing Fred hold his son was another of the greatest moments in my life. I can't explain it but I've never felt so proud.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8IsBqJEqAeYWI7QAQfE0Q6MfVTX5UsCcNBpKx1HHuxKDfsk_AuTEQYrkMUWyJkFtw4OAWoF1dev-e2L2tZHeUjNjnC3pTP-B37l30uVkszh_a25Zo0Fq70nliCpVlrTz_qoltpD0p4k/s1600/babyfred285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8IsBqJEqAeYWI7QAQfE0Q6MfVTX5UsCcNBpKx1HHuxKDfsk_AuTEQYrkMUWyJkFtw4OAWoF1dev-e2L2tZHeUjNjnC3pTP-B37l30uVkszh_a25Zo0Fq70nliCpVlrTz_qoltpD0p4k/s320/babyfred285.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">While sitting next to Freddie it was much easier to kiss his sweet head because when you were holding him you were limited in the movements you could make with his air tube being so fragile. Next to him, I was able to just kiss and smell and talk to him much closer. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2yD0dnCuFE-dqMokmIBiEoGDZeZapvKy8AXGBeijcfoAZyFWy3KnkdX9WJZJF7Iu3bT3xPEJM3V0cUj1U7xorVy6bqamyFbJo-3UqE8filWiZw1Qs53MKZg6W3RBkvkbw1WTmglR8p0/s1600/babyfred288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2yD0dnCuFE-dqMokmIBiEoGDZeZapvKy8AXGBeijcfoAZyFWy3KnkdX9WJZJF7Iu3bT3xPEJM3V0cUj1U7xorVy6bqamyFbJo-3UqE8filWiZw1Qs53MKZg6W3RBkvkbw1WTmglR8p0/s320/babyfred288.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAaMWrV7Ha9ckrUNAM19KFc_27jlSilej-N1t5fLIk3KWj1EAAa8eT9eshgyADtONfvvG8uAFNPA6IKoo9cg-zeZFPg6kRHL_RmqO6It4L9Uqajb0-zHzDe9BtXdJtxZSdzDbx4yOqxI/s1600/babyfred296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAaMWrV7Ha9ckrUNAM19KFc_27jlSilej-N1t5fLIk3KWj1EAAa8eT9eshgyADtONfvvG8uAFNPA6IKoo9cg-zeZFPg6kRHL_RmqO6It4L9Uqajb0-zHzDe9BtXdJtxZSdzDbx4yOqxI/s320/babyfred296.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE6M0mLGQYnzFbT9KV899WtT5jRJRdcmZz942P6mlBQPB7tgwSswfd9jwWA7WSIcqhSlLkIo0oq7tR6PFt1mcdbSloTiZvQTfhhLA-EJMkV93DGicj1gcLccHIjsjtS_A6xQrSWxdWeg/s1600/babyfred310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE6M0mLGQYnzFbT9KV899WtT5jRJRdcmZz942P6mlBQPB7tgwSswfd9jwWA7WSIcqhSlLkIo0oq7tR6PFt1mcdbSloTiZvQTfhhLA-EJMkV93DGicj1gcLccHIjsjtS_A6xQrSWxdWeg/s320/babyfred310.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-_iAnTjBCxdhXZpq6Uh8WeUKY18D8meTGfOtddVB6bkRkDRXMwWYr9s6CoHtzmyS3vSFhXw-LoHUtYNoyiNweltW9-SvuL5rVyzXIzhdFCm-8vAxSTiZAzb4IbWAjXgwhMyWwQebDxY/s1600/babyfred334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-_iAnTjBCxdhXZpq6Uh8WeUKY18D8meTGfOtddVB6bkRkDRXMwWYr9s6CoHtzmyS3vSFhXw-LoHUtYNoyiNweltW9-SvuL5rVyzXIzhdFCm-8vAxSTiZAzb4IbWAjXgwhMyWwQebDxY/s320/babyfred334.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We took a bunch of pictures, talked to Freddie, and eventually it was time. They unhooked his machine and switched to manually breathing again. Fred stood up and walked ever so slowly with the respiration therapist and our nurse down to the parent room. I followed.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlBcwpTl6Q3dVXXIeB45fdu9SQ6fE-tCTiqwBaQJzuEeJUywrPsFQbpcZ7PRJArfB0zw3HPL4sgDJCNAE8yy36ajvv1oyCoapvAczxnRAUjX0WLv0_b8njv-RrBxot_wSZM1ASmY6728/s1600/babyfred386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlBcwpTl6Q3dVXXIeB45fdu9SQ6fE-tCTiqwBaQJzuEeJUywrPsFQbpcZ7PRJArfB0zw3HPL4sgDJCNAE8yy36ajvv1oyCoapvAczxnRAUjX0WLv0_b8njv-RrBxot_wSZM1ASmY6728/s320/babyfred386.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Our family and photographer waited in the family waiting room.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We got into the room and I again took my baby boy into my arms. For awhile the respiration therapist kept providing his breaths as we sat there in silence just drinking our son in. Then it was time.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They removed his breathing tube and for the first time we were able to see his entire beautiful face. The nurse and the therapist left the room. I wish I could fully describe the feeling in the room - we were literally surrounded by angels. I know we were. There was this comfort, peace, and presence that was so...overwhelming. It was like being in a cloud. I know without a doubt we weren't alone.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We sat there telling Freddie how much we loved him, that we were grateful he chose us and that we were able to spend a week with him. We told him that we knew he must he important to only need to come to earth for a short while and that we would make it back to him someday. Fred told him how proud he was of him and that he couldn't think of anyone better to carry on his name. He told him how we hoped he would never leave us and that we would be able to feel of his presence often. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We watched as our son's heart beat slowed down and at 11:05PM we felt it as his spirit left his body. I have never felt that way before - we were sustained by a feeling so powerful and comforting that we couldn't be sad. We could only smile because our son was home. He free of the pain and struggle that he had faced and he was whole. We knew we would see him again. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After a few minutes of holding him close, feeling the presence of angels, and trying to absorb everything feeling, impression, and emotions - Fred went to get our family. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWCaiLrun5ARfGiOUhOWtvIu6w8SsRZJ4UQ5CmQNvFgqnIhk4qL5KW3y0zFre8PVPfkXl11KEoykPpv8j0JE6rW_8gv856xOhYOiymXF-YmDhQzOJQC5CECLOFxibG7FEoB7VbCRKfVg/s1600/babyfred396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWCaiLrun5ARfGiOUhOWtvIu6w8SsRZJ4UQ5CmQNvFgqnIhk4qL5KW3y0zFre8PVPfkXl11KEoykPpv8j0JE6rW_8gv856xOhYOiymXF-YmDhQzOJQC5CECLOFxibG7FEoB7VbCRKfVg/s320/babyfred396.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCv5FKKtclnA30weGhtlMPqANvNHo483jue651tzpkY1OtEydxlAOgwwy3szPVPcV9s-ls0X6G4LCz4m-f742wbnaBkebtRr6_9gzliLNl6h6XWInMOOBna6lGHRT29ghyTZNpgTtiGE/s1600/babyfred398.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCv5FKKtclnA30weGhtlMPqANvNHo483jue651tzpkY1OtEydxlAOgwwy3szPVPcV9s-ls0X6G4LCz4m-f742wbnaBkebtRr6_9gzliLNl6h6XWInMOOBna6lGHRT29ghyTZNpgTtiGE/s320/babyfred398.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE873Cjts6shXM1kL0tKq6sH84eygRFJRcU7RA9T1vXF8GHDREL2Yvcqy36BzJHgJKpU1HSKAE7tgvfdL37dGNOEvLYGZM-VP-imgOGedI1_QqA-LpS_O0UdtYNr_J7praFLUdYCGC1k0/s1600/babyfred427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE873Cjts6shXM1kL0tKq6sH84eygRFJRcU7RA9T1vXF8GHDREL2Yvcqy36BzJHgJKpU1HSKAE7tgvfdL37dGNOEvLYGZM-VP-imgOGedI1_QqA-LpS_O0UdtYNr_J7praFLUdYCGC1k0/s320/babyfred427.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKdW9UmWjouGZ6QS6XgvUtvn-ARv-fQWa_ZVspcFLkQWdoAySYJphOCsXa-Mgzag86ghdThEXrbsrW-0bFXEWu-AYBjvWof3LCnmBwjvsdd3GUzwAP4txZkzLqW30nC4ortPshp8C1wpY/s1600/babyfred436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKdW9UmWjouGZ6QS6XgvUtvn-ARv-fQWa_ZVspcFLkQWdoAySYJphOCsXa-Mgzag86ghdThEXrbsrW-0bFXEWu-AYBjvWof3LCnmBwjvsdd3GUzwAP4txZkzLqW30nC4ortPshp8C1wpY/s320/babyfred436.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vP2FzZPwBIprdqZzLogj8agCy0exFxss8BLHwVxoTQ4UR07S6iH9rJC23oAAi2gRt4_SG12teQ8_7QOITyLXlXAaT7YjQICAEP2J4UoqMdUdKRo_FKJE_KHLfCRpCR9c_wrM8Jc6PjM/s1600/babyfred452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vP2FzZPwBIprdqZzLogj8agCy0exFxss8BLHwVxoTQ4UR07S6iH9rJC23oAAi2gRt4_SG12teQ8_7QOITyLXlXAaT7YjQICAEP2J4UoqMdUdKRo_FKJE_KHLfCRpCR9c_wrM8Jc6PjM/s320/babyfred452.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifN0yzZZWUY5fEjrG3XBTC4H-JFBREp3ySWvD7ewvlRp1Va4ZyuFKYvXMcymzYmbvnA0X0DKWq7i6CyQnSjHl26FFqhSuNuXmnKqGc205xDmnddkLAB2q368r7QqCt6H9fG2NCB9oU1A8/s1600/babyfred456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifN0yzZZWUY5fEjrG3XBTC4H-JFBREp3ySWvD7ewvlRp1Va4ZyuFKYvXMcymzYmbvnA0X0DKWq7i6CyQnSjHl26FFqhSuNuXmnKqGc205xDmnddkLAB2q368r7QqCt6H9fG2NCB9oU1A8/s320/babyfred456.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">During the next couple hours we held Freddie, bathed him, took pictures that we would forever treasure, and dressed him in the smallest outfit we could find. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZduJefi6IcapTBMPmd8Sbm0mWtVG1h7aV5AGcEtJG6g4ALLX3RwJtTRId7_RCAtn_i07qWS-2Rh1yTgXbuTB-QX4pAto2d1tJQxEvDzb5MjGYmLwkC7mRC0aeUNthnEofdIVvxxHy2JM/s1600/babyfred06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZduJefi6IcapTBMPmd8Sbm0mWtVG1h7aV5AGcEtJG6g4ALLX3RwJtTRId7_RCAtn_i07qWS-2Rh1yTgXbuTB-QX4pAto2d1tJQxEvDzb5MjGYmLwkC7mRC0aeUNthnEofdIVvxxHy2JM/s320/babyfred06.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5U4-cl2LxwgCcSL0-caPG2jysvmKPYzJPGtvoRQRksLyeCHTzLs374kEIf_6YKXDerAqIqAxyX6wusqokex9hwH7ZjzCLotyhvpPGW0P-nlp6v4CkjD8SAM6oFS9uVUsB2qbApyfXamA/s1600/babyfred07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5U4-cl2LxwgCcSL0-caPG2jysvmKPYzJPGtvoRQRksLyeCHTzLs374kEIf_6YKXDerAqIqAxyX6wusqokex9hwH7ZjzCLotyhvpPGW0P-nlp6v4CkjD8SAM6oFS9uVUsB2qbApyfXamA/s320/babyfred07.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVSpPEJa0snfw7lLZtMjSLE9nhbMMfkdO4uQPM7t_6SwtpMDiEZiLpRvov98pqCBVoj-ENnbockiSq4IAiBIdiK6gtFFLTVfXUl6mDi7cwfMbKGrbTd4T3AUiPWTeypENsBR7mVafOQg/s1600/babyfred09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVSpPEJa0snfw7lLZtMjSLE9nhbMMfkdO4uQPM7t_6SwtpMDiEZiLpRvov98pqCBVoj-ENnbockiSq4IAiBIdiK6gtFFLTVfXUl6mDi7cwfMbKGrbTd4T3AUiPWTeypENsBR7mVafOQg/s320/babyfred09.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBpI2Hdl29X2zZdG3Ly1YG5ilAT-abgoBaDxqKeO9CBz6z93mPEO-zqjtYG0uaXrvv9oi_wjOXQwQDHj0IO36QKSU-w9ib6Gt230dkywiszbdIO6CiYG0hsJgE4d3edfJlLZTMieABvM/s1600/babyfred10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBpI2Hdl29X2zZdG3Ly1YG5ilAT-abgoBaDxqKeO9CBz6z93mPEO-zqjtYG0uaXrvv9oi_wjOXQwQDHj0IO36QKSU-w9ib6Gt230dkywiszbdIO6CiYG0hsJgE4d3edfJlLZTMieABvM/s320/babyfred10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtH-Zitt9tVQ-0htXwVWmmaLcXNITb9w0NFomkHRfrBRCGmu2DPWwvz-KzJSYez3LKSV_27Ojpd-Y2_KXQWhB4DkoKatutZBo6XOsyVafKqDuugW3Hn5kzub43904LIwU3PuIejxCelE/s1600/babyfred11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtH-Zitt9tVQ-0htXwVWmmaLcXNITb9w0NFomkHRfrBRCGmu2DPWwvz-KzJSYez3LKSV_27Ojpd-Y2_KXQWhB4DkoKatutZBo6XOsyVafKqDuugW3Hn5kzub43904LIwU3PuIejxCelE/s320/babyfred11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrW07jxTtjq9h9uti4A-Ok6l3eXjHKMdLG_RaHOuYilfyXLv0DnYPalg-imLcRMns3CpmCbJA9URyMAO5mWJmylysU9vdapvgfXmc8Qqu2GXV_cuJiSo8OTjL2YNRwCQC2G1JbDXzNsQ/s1600/hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrW07jxTtjq9h9uti4A-Ok6l3eXjHKMdLG_RaHOuYilfyXLv0DnYPalg-imLcRMns3CpmCbJA9URyMAO5mWJmylysU9vdapvgfXmc8Qqu2GXV_cuJiSo8OTjL2YNRwCQC2G1JbDXzNsQ/s320/hands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSx9lkuBqxmFoajqhAi0OE8LIZs-YNR8yKiZdFttChw8UQsWVGcIoXCfXrxRZwxGHaf5zVP3DnHqY4gZ5w1pTB5dG-8AUQX-1m1x8fDuw9uurfIgDCAaLUmVy2cTouVG3aQSNfVN8dbCM/s1600/babyfred12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSx9lkuBqxmFoajqhAi0OE8LIZs-YNR8yKiZdFttChw8UQsWVGcIoXCfXrxRZwxGHaf5zVP3DnHqY4gZ5w1pTB5dG-8AUQX-1m1x8fDuw9uurfIgDCAaLUmVy2cTouVG3aQSNfVN8dbCM/s320/babyfred12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Around 1:30AM, we said goodbye to Aubry and Hillary. Then to my parents and sisters. We gathered the rest of our things, signed some paperwork, and went home. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I cannot begin to express my gratitude for <a href="http://startinphotoblog.com/">Aubry</a> and <a href="http://www.bloggingwithholly.blogspot.com/">Holly</a>. Both are amazing phoenix photographers that were so kind as so donate their time and talents to come take pictures that mean more than anyone could ever know. We've been so blessed during all of this by the love, support, and kindness from <b>everyone</b> around us. We cannot thank everyone enough. While this may have been the end of Freddie's earthly journey, in the week that he spent here with us he impacted many lives and was loved by many. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">We are so grateful to all the nurses we had at St. Joes. We were lucky to have some amazing nurses, many of whom had lost a child of their own. I truly admire their strength to work somewhere like the NICU - I couldn't do it.<br />
<br />
We are grateful for the <a href="http://lds.org/?lang=eng">Gospel of Jesus Christ</a>. For our testimonies of eternal families and the Atonement. This trial is one we believe no one should have to go through this because of Christ's Atonement we are able to. We believe our family is eternal and <a href="http://lds.org/plan/we-can-live-with-god-again?lang=eng">we will see our baby boy someday</a>. We are grateful for the Spirit we've felt so often during this because without our knowledge of the Gospel and our faith, I honestly do not think I could live through this. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-2102646331814238832011-05-15T22:39:00.001-07:002011-05-15T22:39:00.245-07:00Tuesday (Part 1)<em>I'm already dreading writing this post. As I was looking through my posts, I was hoping that I had already written this. No such luck. There is this indescribable pain and peace that I have writing this. I would give anything to have our circumstances be different. To have a baby that was still inside me, or even fighting with an excellent prognosis in the NICU. But that isn't our story.</em><br />
<br />
As usual I woke up and went right in to see Freddie. When I went in, they were doing his head ultrasound. I didn't want to see the images right then because I knew we would be pulled into an office later that day. I stood back until they finished and then went to do the usual - sit next to Freddie until shift change.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVUe55CvPjTNwR4L5UmRqkd_dCbUiizg9hX0F5f6dV7LJQhJbV3koHeFpnCTrmqzRmjUpoHg8zRxnCdzQQHYGpV_58wqdMT1syBrNldGcDK5p1DkSm4w4QqLbTW0YTYAoPUR3sqOpG2Jw/s1600/IMAG0174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVUe55CvPjTNwR4L5UmRqkd_dCbUiizg9hX0F5f6dV7LJQhJbV3koHeFpnCTrmqzRmjUpoHg8zRxnCdzQQHYGpV_58wqdMT1syBrNldGcDK5p1DkSm4w4QqLbTW0YTYAoPUR3sqOpG2Jw/s320/IMAG0174.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMufIKTZKKFxkQ1l-bHhYjWFDpWVbMDGtbI5dksX3Z4Le0zPtZCTCvX_qidXgTjy417LBJnITA4zcZrl8Olfvbl4G4GsRFBdA_uNXvNdS-0bRxXkqk_AdG2Ayc-HqgGyWHHJtOhI4gRo/s1600/IMAG0178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMufIKTZKKFxkQ1l-bHhYjWFDpWVbMDGtbI5dksX3Z4Le0zPtZCTCvX_qidXgTjy417LBJnITA4zcZrl8Olfvbl4G4GsRFBdA_uNXvNdS-0bRxXkqk_AdG2Ayc-HqgGyWHHJtOhI4gRo/s320/IMAG0178.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEYQc4WWAAPimqm9ApLKXdOVcBFnzZTVGd3rHjM9qiFw-zGwEj48I4V_AzesYz_x8zKL7vJx11oJoo4mNHgz9fCZO_BgPHI__hCuIWprEZOq8oOOD6GMQXLcexh-Curaxqh9pf5-HgE4/s1600/IMAG0184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOEYQc4WWAAPimqm9ApLKXdOVcBFnzZTVGd3rHjM9qiFw-zGwEj48I4V_AzesYz_x8zKL7vJx11oJoo4mNHgz9fCZO_BgPHI__hCuIWprEZOq8oOOD6GMQXLcexh-Curaxqh9pf5-HgE4/s320/IMAG0184.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
The nurses in the NICU did 3 days on - so we'd had only a handful of nurses because they would typically finish their scheduled days with the same baby. That morning he had a new nurse, she was someone around my mom's age. She kindly introduced herself, updated me on my baby's night, and then stood aside to let me have some time with my baby. I told him good morning, talked to him about the dreams he'd had, and just held his hand.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKe9JZKrnh83j_zBHj85-o3RI72rUBqBzcBUqd_VbrB67WOO5VIV4B9KVHZoEurSs9lBiclwr5SKGjcIhHdLhx51VTKcsUoG2j7bxXTwOqXcMpcZCAqYldZ9z0Hi2hiJCQNDs5wb_kiXc/s1600/IMAG0176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKe9JZKrnh83j_zBHj85-o3RI72rUBqBzcBUqd_VbrB67WOO5VIV4B9KVHZoEurSs9lBiclwr5SKGjcIhHdLhx51VTKcsUoG2j7bxXTwOqXcMpcZCAqYldZ9z0Hi2hiJCQNDs5wb_kiXc/s320/IMAG0176.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>While the nurses were swapping, I went back to eat the breakfast my older sister had picked up on her walk to the hospital from the hotel and I got "ready" for the day. Getting ready for me meant - get in the shower, sob my guts out while in the shower (hoping the sobs were muffled), get dressed in something that wasn't maternity or if it was didn't look it, do my hair, and put on waterproof mascara. Voila. There is your how-to guide to looking haggard yet beautiful(ly destroyed).<br />
<br />
As soon as I was finished getting ready, I was in with Freddie. I wasn't leaving, so my family took turns rotating through. While I was sitting next Freddie, the head nurse for the NICU came up to tell me that our doctor and the team of specialists was planning on reviewing Freddie's scans and then talking to us at 1:30. My heart sank. Everything changed to a count down to 1:30. We knew things weren't going to be better. Or at least not in a way that would save our son from a lifetime of struggle. Yet at the same time we hoped. Hoped that literally by a grand miracle the bleeding would be gone. The damage reversed. That all our little boy had to do was get bigger and stronger and then we would take home a healthy baby boy who beat the odds and was an inspiration to all.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSITuFc6M5Hqjkh_Q2vPAQ8tsbItbFXMhVbJYEoBzVYv9wN8wpFcCbAuZg_0a2C3-P-x2fwNvKKZ4Rp_F364I9SlRUDyJP3uRBisVIyLGJp1OQSHkduDKuFCYTLKcrS8UvVofTzQSR2q4/s1600/IMAG0186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSITuFc6M5Hqjkh_Q2vPAQ8tsbItbFXMhVbJYEoBzVYv9wN8wpFcCbAuZg_0a2C3-P-x2fwNvKKZ4Rp_F364I9SlRUDyJP3uRBisVIyLGJp1OQSHkduDKuFCYTLKcrS8UvVofTzQSR2q4/s320/IMAG0186.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is where the details of the day begin to get foggy.<br />
<br />
I can't remember the exact order of things that morning - only that it felt like days.<br />
<br />
Fred had been at school all morning, attempting to clear his head to finish his finals to graduate the following week. He was able to finally get back to the hospital around 11:00. We had been kicked out of the NICU because Freddie was getting a new bed. His current bed had a broken door (where you stick you arm through) the door had fallen off and in its place was a piece of plastic keeping the humidity and temperature up. it broke on his 1st night there but because he was so critical they couldn't move him until Tuesday. Again a tiny victory that made you think hope wasn't lost. While they moved him we had to leave so Fred was forced to just sit. and wait. He could hardly stand it. All he wanted to do was be in there with his son. Finally we got the call saying we could come back in. Fred and I went in and only a little while later we were kicked out again for another procedure on another baby. This time it would be a little while longer so Freddie's nurse made Fred promise to make me eat. We went down to the cafeteria where Fred ate and I picked at his food. My parents and sisters who had been roaming the halls restlessly (my mom literally cannot sit still) came to find us. We updated them on Freddie's new bed and that the doctors would be pulling us in at 1:30.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDegpe9Dv8bo4zuaN_d4z0BDHigLVHqBab30DwG8wVw2Wh1MFi7rO8iZZsTZbpK_ZU1AmQEMRVGpPs-cZfTsZTt8njJCUJhL0uf31M5ZBA8QeO8KTHNtzIrKaVQypA5FnA1eUOk5cQFF0/s1600/IMAG0182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDegpe9Dv8bo4zuaN_d4z0BDHigLVHqBab30DwG8wVw2Wh1MFi7rO8iZZsTZbpK_ZU1AmQEMRVGpPs-cZfTsZTt8njJCUJhL0uf31M5ZBA8QeO8KTHNtzIrKaVQypA5FnA1eUOk5cQFF0/s320/IMAG0182.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>After the alloted time, we went back upstairs and back inside with Freddie. soon after we were kicked out again. I'm not sure on the timing of everything but while we were kicked out we went back into our room where we cuddled on the bed trying to get 30 seconds of rest in our restless week. As we both fell asleep, someone knocked on the door. I sat up and our social worker walked in. Instead of seeing that we were obviously trying to rest in the spare moment that we had, she flipped on the light and came to sit down at the chair at the end of the bed.<br />
<br />
<i>I haven't blogged much about our social worker - she was incredibly cold. She seemed to try and force a tiny bit of compassion but it just came out as "yeah yeah your baby is early and there is no hope". She had had the nerve to talk to me corner me on Friday in the NICU about my "options" (this is the day after we learned our baby wasn't going to make it...the last thing I wanted to talk were those options) and made the point of telling me that she was leaving soon for the weekend so she wanted to tell me before she clocked out. Honestly, I don't think she expected to see us Monday. Then on Monday morning, she stopped by Freddie's bed where Fred and I were both in tears. She had gone to the opposite side of his bed and simply said, "Mind telling me how the weekend went?" in a cold, accusing voice. </i><br />
<br />
As she sat at the end of the bed, she talked to us about our options again. About what we could do to make our last moments special. There was actually a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. We talked about how we most definitely wanted a photographer there to capture us holding him for the first time and how I wanted hand imprints if I could get them. As she was telling us about the imprint kit they had, my sister Sydney came in to grab her purse. She walked in and as she was leaning over to grab her purse off a chair, Marilyn said, "should we continue this in private?" Sydney quickly said, "I'm just grabbing something. I'm not staying". So she left. Moments later, my parents came in and sat down (they knew how much we disliked our social worker). Marilyn repeated that same question. I was so annoyed. We were talking about imprints. Nothing crazy personal. Fred just said, we're all family. It doesn't matter. She talked to us more about the imprints and said she would get us one to look at.<br />
<br />
She left to go grab the imprints and a few other things and we told my parents the other things she had talked to us about. We then looked at the clock. It was about 1:10. We decided that we needed to go in to see Freddie before the doctors pulled us aside. So off we went. As we were walking down the hall, Marilyn was walking back up with the imprints. We told her that we were going to go see Freddie and would look at the imprints later.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-20720615657880362002011-05-09T08:22:00.013-07:002011-05-09T09:34:34.610-07:00no catchy title here...<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sunday:</span></b><br />
This was the first day where just the two of us had the opportunity to just sit with Freddie as long as possible. Fred's family had left, my parents were at church 40 minutes away so we just sat as our little family in the NICU.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WF9_bqo09ozQ17eVBJog0GMsCS2zkaujcSdmZWFwmoWRI6srm6ZpPN0TbfmAJfbkN51cabiYbhWl9lTeVRGLztYmSnMXTxsGUC6Tay8KpFH_l-z6HlZ_ksyIIxB0Ki5f5RkbWlzzIs4/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WF9_bqo09ozQ17eVBJog0GMsCS2zkaujcSdmZWFwmoWRI6srm6ZpPN0TbfmAJfbkN51cabiYbhWl9lTeVRGLztYmSnMXTxsGUC6Tay8KpFH_l-z6HlZ_ksyIIxB0Ki5f5RkbWlzzIs4/s320/1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As we sat there in the morning, we noticed that Freddie's neck looked...thicker. I noticed it but thought that maybe it was just the position that they had him in that made him look that way. A little while later, the nurse asked if we thought his neck looked thicker. His neck was swelling up which made his tiny chin disappear and made him look like he had a "gobbler". His neck was literally almost the width of his tiny shoulders. They did an x-ray and discovered that his PICC line was going up into his neck blocking the drainage of any fluid from his neck or head. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhun2S6UajEbd44JxiW7xo-ZKREtCmhKZG8ENxL6QJsw8UkCHQPjr7bYWVsmC8L9G0e_w5wzeBmeB7BPNlAxQ00kkmMtZT2cYsdk675nr85VfoCkyiA6FF5AfVAdPTV08V5v-_c-qWLoXU/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhun2S6UajEbd44JxiW7xo-ZKREtCmhKZG8ENxL6QJsw8UkCHQPjr7bYWVsmC8L9G0e_w5wzeBmeB7BPNlAxQ00kkmMtZT2cYsdk675nr85VfoCkyiA6FF5AfVAdPTV08V5v-_c-qWLoXU/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Thick-Chin</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">They had to go in and pull the PICC line out a little to see if it would make the swelling go down. After they pulled it out a little they would look to see if he had any other viable veins to put in another PICC line. The doctor on duty that day told us that if the swelling didn't go down and they couldn't find another vein that potentially this could be the beginning of the end. He was at great risks for blood clots and the only way for them to get blood clots out of the neck was to give blood thinners - but because he was on such high dosages of blood pressure meds he wasn't a candidate for that. </div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHZ9ChnYf5-IjXKdGA_roVjcDme5GKNuKAdvbqYoi7tCofXBoEUmTZ9crUKuox8wwXN9RC53q_5xpXORJQavVxZwUfsFwaTDMdRFZb0c7kzyVHK3qnoOaDJrkddXEE-yVHkukGO40ZfU/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHZ9ChnYf5-IjXKdGA_roVjcDme5GKNuKAdvbqYoi7tCofXBoEUmTZ9crUKuox8wwXN9RC53q_5xpXORJQavVxZwUfsFwaTDMdRFZb0c7kzyVHK3qnoOaDJrkddXEE-yVHkukGO40ZfU/s320/3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">after the neck went down</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Unfortunately, the nurse blew the one vein he had left so a new PICC line wasn't going to work. Luckily though the swelling went down pretty rapidly. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Monday:</b></span><br />
Fred took a much needed afternoon away from the hospital. He had to finish up some school stuff so after he left I barely left Freddie's side. literally. I was exhausted and I couldn't sit at his incubator without touching him somehow - usually with my hand cradling the top of his little head. Poor Freddie. He was probably so sick of me. Plus his little incubator was hot with ample humidity - so he was stuck with his mom's sweaty hand on his head, chest, foot, or trying to hold his hand all day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2wkHLwaOwNH413u3iouRIfQaMIKOd-Ha64Vhv4OCSfIYcFVxh6lFPzY2rGFlPPu9DEfMcuEe8oqgxGsLL9uoTyNexe32DHTL2dZOFM018aqi2nyxIzp9ccitiFx7pobKAu7XDyVXfSw/s1600/IMAG0163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2wkHLwaOwNH413u3iouRIfQaMIKOd-Ha64Vhv4OCSfIYcFVxh6lFPzY2rGFlPPu9DEfMcuEe8oqgxGsLL9uoTyNexe32DHTL2dZOFM018aqi2nyxIzp9ccitiFx7pobKAu7XDyVXfSw/s320/IMAG0163.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I sat there as the parents of the other babies in the pod came and went, I rested my head against his incubator and told him it was okay if he needed to go. That we loved him so much and were so proud of his fight but that we knew the plan and he shouldn't hold on if it was his time.<br />
<br />
Monday evening as I sat next to Freddie, the group of doctors came around doing rounds. I hated when they did this. It was awful - like being on an episode of scrubs or greys anatomy. <em>Yes please sit and talk about our baby's grim future as though his sobbing, emotional, and human mother isn't sitting right there. No, please.</em> When they came around was my time to take a break so I wouldn't have to hear it.<br />
<br />
After the group of greenies left, the director of the unit and the doctor on duty that night approached me at Freddie's incubator. They began asking me questions on our decisions, feelings, impressions from the other specialists, etc. I told them what the other doctors had told us but that we weren't ready to make or vocalize a decision yet. The doctor on duty then said something that really made me realize that we really were on borrowed time and that Freddie was hanging on because WE wanted him there.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5u9h9vbjB-me8ZvvwyPcyEIULbsdLrDvH10cPg8CWgpvmdPuG-94N5BPzow_6dnRyuXC9SIsPCe7T6t3WU3CzbNBEkUUN02AVRK2w2H7r6oSHTTxgPMqhXQXbvCtESby5FmnGWJXUZK0/s1600/IMAG0167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5u9h9vbjB-me8ZvvwyPcyEIULbsdLrDvH10cPg8CWgpvmdPuG-94N5BPzow_6dnRyuXC9SIsPCe7T6t3WU3CzbNBEkUUN02AVRK2w2H7r6oSHTTxgPMqhXQXbvCtESby5FmnGWJXUZK0/s320/IMAG0167.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>She told me that while they didn't want to pressure me and that they would continue giving him the best care possible - that we only had a window of time to make this decision. He had graduated from one ventilator to another and that while he still required a lot of support, if he kept progressing with his breathing and lung abilities (which could happen within a week) he could be taken off the ventilator. Once he was off the ventilator, the decision was no longer ours. Once he was breathing on his own - we had made our choice and that was the life we'd chosen to give him.<br />
<br />
I started sobbing. This was the first time anyone had mentioned that time was running out. We knew that wasn't the life he was to live. We had received confirmation that his time on Earth was to be short but we also didn't have the power to say goodbye yet. Every day we were with him made it harder and harder to make that decision. We were so in love with this baby and of course we didn't want to say goodbye. In our heart of hearts we were still hoping for a miracle.<br />
<br />
Fred got back and came in to sit next to Freddie to make up for all the lost time that day.<br />
<br />
My parents had been there all day but decided to get out and go "get grapes" (my mom is bad at lying). When they came back, my two sisters were with them. My sisters had flown in from Utah to meet Freddie. They would be there for the night and then leave in the morning. As the night progressed and I told everyone about the conversation I had with the drs. We knew we would ultimately be making some big, hard decisions the next day. Because of this, my sisters changed their flights to leave Tuesday night instead.<br />
<br />
That night we took turns in next to Freddie, snuck away to dinner, and skyped with my brothers and their families so they could meet our little man too. (sidenote: how cool was it that we were able to skype with Fred's fam and mine so that they could meet our babe? answer: extra cool)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10u95duFyheP3TzVeqG8Vn0Ppav81ZnzSRwVRSM0vA1SUlu5pLcps4ChfHTFhNsQGeU7S-uADIHYIcHg7yVRg713D8dMG0at_WvQ9BqaxSQhWm__UbEnPZZduAOLlvjmohVgUf5LiyXI/s1600/IMAG0151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10u95duFyheP3TzVeqG8Vn0Ppav81ZnzSRwVRSM0vA1SUlu5pLcps4ChfHTFhNsQGeU7S-uADIHYIcHg7yVRg713D8dMG0at_WvQ9BqaxSQhWm__UbEnPZZduAOLlvjmohVgUf5LiyXI/s320/IMAG0151.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
Fred had to take a few finals the next morning, so he went home to our house to sleep. I had pretty much decided that if Fred wasn't there, I wasn't sure I <i>could</i> sleep so I would probably just sit in next to Freddie all night. Which was fine by me - I was invincible. I didn't need sleep and I definitely didn't need to eat. Instead of leaving me alone, my little sister opted to spend the night with me while my older sister took the hotel room. We stayed with Freddie until about 2:00 AM and then went to get some shut eye.<br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">postscript: I feel like there is so much I'm leaving out. I hate it. I hate not being able to capture every moment through this blog to remember what it felt like. These posts are getting shorter - which I'm sure some are glad for - but for me it means I'm leaving things out. Which breaks my heart and brings tears.</span></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-68344584904969513832011-05-05T07:23:00.002-07:002011-05-05T07:23:00.420-07:00One Month<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeDtD6Z0gVhck7Y2CATKcgIPTm6nw9Mh6gASkqj3MtWm1YgRvjKQJJ2atAw2NN2C379cYLjPGkZEHWWEoaP1RuWQifkklK22HhVCorfmEqORwEEtg8k5s-ZLeq10Up5B2aTgF6_tU7uM/s1600/IMAG0156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeDtD6Z0gVhck7Y2CATKcgIPTm6nw9Mh6gASkqj3MtWm1YgRvjKQJJ2atAw2NN2C379cYLjPGkZEHWWEoaP1RuWQifkklK22HhVCorfmEqORwEEtg8k5s-ZLeq10Up5B2aTgF6_tU7uM/s400/IMAG0156.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Today would have been Freddie's one month birthday.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">Happy Birthday baby boy. </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">We love you and miss you more than you could ever know. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I hope they have birthday parties in heaven.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-81593447789656283702011-05-04T07:15:00.000-07:002011-05-04T07:15:09.757-07:00Another Point of ViewThe photographer, <a href="http://bloggingwithholly.blogspot.com/2011/05/sharing-in-one-of-lifes-most-tender.html">Holly Brimhall</a> wrote an amazing post about her experience in the NICU with Freddie. The mother in me sees it as bragging rights for my child - so everyone should read it.<br />
<br />
My baby is and was amazing. Someday you'll all get to meet him.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://bloggingwithholly.blogspot.com/2011/05/sharing-in-one-of-lifes-most-tender.html"><b>Click to Read Holly's Post</b></a></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-83307296466795158682011-05-02T17:58:00.004-07:002011-05-04T07:09:44.240-07:00Saturday<div><i>When I was home in February for work, I was at my sister's house. She had shown me <a href="http://hollybrimhallphotography.com/"><b>Holly Brimhall</b></a>, this photographer in Mesa that took ah-mazing newborn pictures. I fell in love. Because she was so talented and amazing, she was also out of my "we're broke" budget. But I looked at her site regularly, followed her blog, and dreamed of the shots I would take with my little baby.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>Fast forward to the present - our nurses had talked to us about the organization Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep and while I couldn't think of setting something like that up because it broke my heart, my mom and sister took matters into their own hands. My sister contacted Holly and without hesitation Holly offered to come and take pictures for us. That Saturday, she drove more than an hour to take pictures of us with our little boy.</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>Saturday was a big day. </div><div><br />
</div><div>In the morning, I followed the same routine - wake up, throw my hair back, put on my flip flops and head into Freddie to say good morning and sit for a little bit before being kicked out at shift change.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I hated that we were doing pictures because I knew what it meant in the long run. However, these pictures are now something we'll treasure for the rest of our lives.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In Freddie's journal I wrote:</div><div><i>Today we did a photoshoot with you. You did a great job. I couldn't stop holding your hand all morning so you were a little sick of us trying to hold your hand for pictures. The nurses were so great with helping us. They opened your bed and we got to pick you up. This was the first time we got to hold you in any way. Because you're on a special ventilator, we could only lift you about 3 inches but those 3 inches meant the world. You're so tiny that you can fit in your daddy's hand. Our favorite part about about doing pictures was that we were able to kiss you. After 4 long days, we finally got to kiss your sweet little head. You are so sweet baby boy. Even the photographer could tell you were a special spirit and cried.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>We know you are one of the very best of God's children and we are so lucky you chose us to spend your earthly time with.</i></div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmK4QNkKtlU-zAQDaPBFvyNaVTjY88DkdISzHUg_s3T-6GXjMsBDPNMqbw8TLBNrr3fyCf08kCT0rDR7QTJAelWADXNxBaqDG-YmPrJjSnpBTQu_UYp4iPxmiXHcy5I-w7j0DwZBo9Q6E/s1600/IMG_1083copyb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmK4QNkKtlU-zAQDaPBFvyNaVTjY88DkdISzHUg_s3T-6GXjMsBDPNMqbw8TLBNrr3fyCf08kCT0rDR7QTJAelWADXNxBaqDG-YmPrJjSnpBTQu_UYp4iPxmiXHcy5I-w7j0DwZBo9Q6E/s320/IMG_1083copyb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3BFF1TYUAF7wrkpC87mm5uCQyxcBqiG7Cc6zxyoyfiq_pnqqofsLWxXCVchtFiVZsFeu5r5JEe0EcAxsPMxZBN7uq7RTJDgPuFsuMXuO7Usb9cOhNc9Aeq2paR5y6uBh1mq5Pf2d6H4/s1600/IMG_1088copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3BFF1TYUAF7wrkpC87mm5uCQyxcBqiG7Cc6zxyoyfiq_pnqqofsLWxXCVchtFiVZsFeu5r5JEe0EcAxsPMxZBN7uq7RTJDgPuFsuMXuO7Usb9cOhNc9Aeq2paR5y6uBh1mq5Pf2d6H4/s320/IMG_1088copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnz3J0nDmAU4p-v3pg2UJlhCRv2XOa4mBtjCnweiltWsArXwkQnRX44cIL52bDuUJe5sLgolaWJ5cC13r1G5HEZ1fLPSDKUTE8DQMZ15cDXBE7o-WlVKzawkGNqspAqUw6xmnki_ahuMY/s1600/IMG_1090copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnz3J0nDmAU4p-v3pg2UJlhCRv2XOa4mBtjCnweiltWsArXwkQnRX44cIL52bDuUJe5sLgolaWJ5cC13r1G5HEZ1fLPSDKUTE8DQMZ15cDXBE7o-WlVKzawkGNqspAqUw6xmnki_ahuMY/s320/IMG_1090copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><i>Tonight you were quite the popular boy. So many of our friends came by to meet you. So many people love you. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Tonight your daddy also gave you a blessing and named you for our Church. He gave you the most beautiful blessing - He loves you so much.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Both of your grandpas and your uncle Matt stood in the circle to bless you. I know that if you are to be whole, you will be. But if your mortal journey is done then that's okay too.</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXPYWmfqVyabL1ApqdMLgZlhIysis3zZ7rJCaMRIT41beN-uodVFs2s6HpbRbWmeJwr1uNGG6yNSPrj0dPrATDmoE4x518iv9ZNqmCBHnc0QnjUhqzz9qWOAnDpyipfzD6szPc0X_TVM/s1600/IMG_1098copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXPYWmfqVyabL1ApqdMLgZlhIysis3zZ7rJCaMRIT41beN-uodVFs2s6HpbRbWmeJwr1uNGG6yNSPrj0dPrATDmoE4x518iv9ZNqmCBHnc0QnjUhqzz9qWOAnDpyipfzD6szPc0X_TVM/s320/IMG_1098copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZ7NWD0Yn3AeLxncdVkrJ3wM9Mu8IqQ75FL_YWZRMG5eEYG5PR79xxKLtbobHh7o9guWG6N9Zbp0rzS4SRoMYKesGUmNVIXwNqDzzcBqfzcZ7Qsa5oSiQYVFEJVEpNesACeyNZVmAqAs/s1600/IMG_1117copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZ7NWD0Yn3AeLxncdVkrJ3wM9Mu8IqQ75FL_YWZRMG5eEYG5PR79xxKLtbobHh7o9guWG6N9Zbp0rzS4SRoMYKesGUmNVIXwNqDzzcBqfzcZ7Qsa5oSiQYVFEJVEpNesACeyNZVmAqAs/s320/IMG_1117copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFvcgMNs8-3X33CuK_kFQYX1RFHMYhIoTPeLulgE7q9v11QdGAiQsuWexX7yKmuqzXcMlUfG8VcagjnR4406y0LYrpW2IdcmNO3Mh3QPxydqMEayrb_jX-Kk0VktBpL21RScUt84nny4/s1600/IMG_1159copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFvcgMNs8-3X33CuK_kFQYX1RFHMYhIoTPeLulgE7q9v11QdGAiQsuWexX7yKmuqzXcMlUfG8VcagjnR4406y0LYrpW2IdcmNO3Mh3QPxydqMEayrb_jX-Kk0VktBpL21RScUt84nny4/s320/IMG_1159copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0oQlW3fksuiq9qY_wnUosIEcmYxneI_rgMF38y_4WCMLrjhWlEbBJN0pg3z24zJWxH_6T-4LJUu28HDw5RiuhBO-oS2O-fTyT7TVz4BY23cOGEodhm6JfJBuoVHByNjYFaPUV_lPX0M/s1600/IMG_1086copyb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0oQlW3fksuiq9qY_wnUosIEcmYxneI_rgMF38y_4WCMLrjhWlEbBJN0pg3z24zJWxH_6T-4LJUu28HDw5RiuhBO-oS2O-fTyT7TVz4BY23cOGEodhm6JfJBuoVHByNjYFaPUV_lPX0M/s320/IMG_1086copyb.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>Toward the end of the photoshoot, Freddie got the hiccups. Something I never got to feel while he was inside of me. I just sat there crying with my hand on his chest amazed that something so tiny could have something as normal as the hiccups and that something so normal could be something I wanted to hold onto forever.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyWuQ6XHhPfqZHbKL1EKEeupKkyYTeDaG9y0rDFu_6ZzBNShczwZ6KBd-zDk6IoUZf1Nf3w47Z-D2XoME_yuKhPyaXRQl0akZ8eJ6qf2p70-KsOqox1JNq7N0Kt2xLyVGf5Zcv2ZY7Gkg/s1600/IMG_1166copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyWuQ6XHhPfqZHbKL1EKEeupKkyYTeDaG9y0rDFu_6ZzBNShczwZ6KBd-zDk6IoUZf1Nf3w47Z-D2XoME_yuKhPyaXRQl0akZ8eJ6qf2p70-KsOqox1JNq7N0Kt2xLyVGf5Zcv2ZY7Gkg/s320/IMG_1166copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FszIWxHTHEMVhv3F-4xxbYHTRz5dTNUCKYXu55VzDaE4ajzaZoPbEk5nWXaivxsx7fPeRNApBqY9lAr3Wwnc5CT87OHASt7niqgDSqCLDTQy3qsSVHKyQaWR9K-CMo1CjWpm_Cev26I/s1600/IMG_1180copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FszIWxHTHEMVhv3F-4xxbYHTRz5dTNUCKYXu55VzDaE4ajzaZoPbEk5nWXaivxsx7fPeRNApBqY9lAr3Wwnc5CT87OHASt7niqgDSqCLDTQy3qsSVHKyQaWR9K-CMo1CjWpm_Cev26I/s320/IMG_1180copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three generations of Freds</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ38unTfAsiiT8IHF_3k1qzPDn_3jLI3yVaI9qou5MkA5n2rrH_93OsMnVEdeLyRcQHIL796FlZ_HvCB3HzqLB0tnsxfJRojvCoTLWscG_P_N-3vSay2Kt7pvQvRNYTNQLkAjC4wFvF8E/s1600/IMG_1187copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ38unTfAsiiT8IHF_3k1qzPDn_3jLI3yVaI9qou5MkA5n2rrH_93OsMnVEdeLyRcQHIL796FlZ_HvCB3HzqLB0tnsxfJRojvCoTLWscG_P_N-3vSay2Kt7pvQvRNYTNQLkAjC4wFvF8E/s320/IMG_1187copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimI-PHX45hX3Lo9bRc7x8z95z-vxIOoHxiwPwvXFVCMwB-fRwPNz031B7RiukNXjZGCnXcoswzo32qUkqavwSr5kXwQN1jMSkDq8QAxSIAO6rWHugSDVOKVoxOTRayAN4o3-ktnDLQYIY/s1600/IMG_1190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimI-PHX45hX3Lo9bRc7x8z95z-vxIOoHxiwPwvXFVCMwB-fRwPNz031B7RiukNXjZGCnXcoswzo32qUkqavwSr5kXwQN1jMSkDq8QAxSIAO6rWHugSDVOKVoxOTRayAN4o3-ktnDLQYIY/s320/IMG_1190.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdreym9Jn2vU-BMEwZt1t4X3JrIlsu0gyi5t2OAds0NxRRxequQQXAt4MEohGp2ReimYMjCMoQtt2rMJnEj_p176IdBP49zrJ7ZK60-UpV6-f-dFmxXDEvH4t5iuC0tz3N_3JLMPSd6E8/s1600/IMG_1198copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdreym9Jn2vU-BMEwZt1t4X3JrIlsu0gyi5t2OAds0NxRRxequQQXAt4MEohGp2ReimYMjCMoQtt2rMJnEj_p176IdBP49zrJ7ZK60-UpV6-f-dFmxXDEvH4t5iuC0tz3N_3JLMPSd6E8/s320/IMG_1198copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATt_o_KwKCXnVb4u71VEuKeOomOX5cJcTPJ42lr6ztCaZMmtpRoUvDMPga7vaDhC_AAcldGcRV5lezCT4GXi61VN_qqQUMYs2468fhlCnqmIBPjMvicVlfVanOXeKn8aCDEM9j34VGyk/s1600/IMG_1208copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATt_o_KwKCXnVb4u71VEuKeOomOX5cJcTPJ42lr6ztCaZMmtpRoUvDMPga7vaDhC_AAcldGcRV5lezCT4GXi61VN_qqQUMYs2468fhlCnqmIBPjMvicVlfVanOXeKn8aCDEM9j34VGyk/s320/IMG_1208copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>After Freddie's blessing, we had to say goodbye to Fred's family who had to make the 19-hour trek back to Arkansas. It was probably one of the hardest goodbyes. As I sat watching everyone say goodbye to Freddie I couldn't help but sob. Our nurses were great and kept his bed open so that everyone could touch and kiss him. I didn't want to accept that this would be the last time they got to see him in this life. I didn't want to face that when his parents came back in 2 weeks for graduation that we wouldn't still be there. fighting. But I knew we wouldn't be. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-12183630427187526792011-05-01T09:34:00.000-07:002011-05-01T09:34:22.146-07:00Friday<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The next morning - I was wide awake at 6:00 AM and in next to Freddie (PJs, unbrushed teeth, crazy hair and all). I stayed in there until the shift change and then force myself into the shower to be semi presentable. The mood was still the same. There was pity and sadness in everyone's eyes yet hardly anyone would look me in the eyes. I guess I couldn't blame them - I was a wreck. I would pull it together just in time to start sobbing and crying again. Our nurses learned to have a box of tissue on each side of Freddie's bed because I needed them. The other parents of the other babies in his area barely looked at me - again, I couldn't blame them and I wouldn't have wanted to talk to them anyway.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ou3qo8bIPeuQ4NhL-7G9csdE2vTBm_fFtEL0vg-wabPuDsnrFwy5CxBHi0XI38NBocOFenREQ-HVfcJ1HtSLg2KjC1BbREAFgneNTzpaMyVvpYX9fZwmdZ1-Dcl-DGSaIZRN0INbBUc/s1600/IMAG0117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ou3qo8bIPeuQ4NhL-7G9csdE2vTBm_fFtEL0vg-wabPuDsnrFwy5CxBHi0XI38NBocOFenREQ-HVfcJ1HtSLg2KjC1BbREAFgneNTzpaMyVvpYX9fZwmdZ1-Dcl-DGSaIZRN0INbBUc/s320/IMAG0117.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Fred on the other hand was exhausted. Every day the emotional and mental strain had him ready to sleep for days. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We were so lucky to have our families surrounding us. Our parents took care of things we couldn't, got us food when we didn't know it'd been hours since we'd eaten, and hugged us, listened to us, and cried with us. It made such a huge difference to have both of our families there.<br />
<br />
Friday was just an all around bad day. Nothing monumental happened with Freddie but it was the knowledge of what we knew that kept us in tears.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdQC7Kgcet5wHLow6BVKAaWRumS4gW6oG1rGXQoBMSTuHu6I_nIDk5L1mxdlASGASew85RLfTYZvV_rgWvQoSM1YIof8tshZaZmb7-O2sRqNTJpiPwZ8SL4DwHQfwKjSxNaQpy6ob5qM/s1600/IMAG0118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdQC7Kgcet5wHLow6BVKAaWRumS4gW6oG1rGXQoBMSTuHu6I_nIDk5L1mxdlASGASew85RLfTYZvV_rgWvQoSM1YIof8tshZaZmb7-O2sRqNTJpiPwZ8SL4DwHQfwKjSxNaQpy6ob5qM/s320/IMAG0118.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We had been told about the organization Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, a group of photographers that comes in and takes pictures for parents of a terminal baby at no cost. We had decided we wanted pictures but weren't ready to actually schedule something. If we scheduled something it meant that we had made up our mind and that the end was near. My mom and my sister had gone behind my back and contacted a local photographer that I loved and though she wasn't part of the group, she had volunteered to come do it. My mom had scheduled her to come that night. When she told me this I broke down (in the NICU mind you) - told her I couldn't do it and that we wouldn't do it that night. Thankfullly she was okay with us cancelling last minute.<br />
<br />
We battled with the decision and tried to figure out if it was selfish to keep him and hope - because after all everyone was praying for him and aren't prayers answered? My mom reminded me - not all the prayers were to help him heal, but to do God's will and help us be strong.<br />
<br />
What if our child was meant to be an example to others in this life while in that state? If we chose the wrong thing - was it because we couldn't handle it? Not because he couldn't?<br />
<br />
Friday afternoon, a neurologist came to talk to us to offer a second opinion. Fred had left to go check on school things at the hotel so Fred's mom and sister sat with me as the doctors talked more about outcomes.<br />
<br />
When they left, I felt strangely comforted. As though things weren't as bad as they seemed. The neurologist had said that based solely on his brain injury, he would at the very least be completely paralyzed on the left side of his body and would most likely suffer from stiffening (when your arms curl back into your body). He said they couldn't be positive of the mental damage and that he wouldn't walk but that there was a chance (however small it might be) that the left side of his brain would take on the role of speech and he <b>might</b> be able to talk. They said they were having a neuro surgeon look at his scans as well to look for hydrosphylis which causes cerebral palsy. This was all I heard. At the end of the conversation there was that awkward pause again. The one that indicated that a question had been asked and that I needed to provide an answer - but once again I didn't know what was being asked or said. I couldn't give an answer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtcoh2QLbBJwPGk38MqR2Mvzn-v0ScDzJDKnVLrhQHGE8Pu812G__q3kIPHhp3cS_wLBUhKHtTdj1TfZTVwH8mu6H5CbgOO3OKLEHFqeu2o4vRc1eOutCTqy4CfdahsuES5u_ok5wiyc/s1600/IMAG0116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtcoh2QLbBJwPGk38MqR2Mvzn-v0ScDzJDKnVLrhQHGE8Pu812G__q3kIPHhp3cS_wLBUhKHtTdj1TfZTVwH8mu6H5CbgOO3OKLEHFqeu2o4vRc1eOutCTqy4CfdahsuES5u_ok5wiyc/s320/IMAG0116.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When they left, my MIL and SIL looked at me with sad eyes. I told them how I felt like things weren't as bad and that maybe we should go for that tiny glimmer of hope. Both my MIL and SIL shook their heads - unlike me they were able to stay focused and listen to what the doctors were actually saying. What they were actually saying was "this is really bad - your little boy's body is failing and it doesn't look like he's going to make it. If by some miracle your baby does make it - he will be severely handicapped."<br />
<br />
oh. that's what they said?<br />
<br />
Luckily my MIL was in there because she was able to grasp the question that was being asked. They wanted to know whether or not we wanted them to do everything in their power to save him if things started to crash. They had told us previously that doing chest compressions on him would do more damage than good - so I knew that was something that we didn't want them to do. My biggest concern was that he was to be in no pain or discomfort.<br />
<br />
That night, Fred made me leave the hospital to go to dinner with his family. We went somewhere within five miles of the hospital. The minute we sat at our table - I began to have anxiety. My whole body began to sweat, I couldn't stop moving for fear of having a full blown panic attack. What if something happened while we were gone? I wasn't going to eat though I'd ordered something so at one point I thought 'I can't stay here. I'm going to get a taxi or run back to the hospital if I have to'. It was the longest 45 minutes of my life.<br />
<br />
I pretty much ran back into the NICU when we got back to the hospital - and then couldn't leave Freddie's side for hours.<br />
<br />
We decided that night that we wanted anyone and everyone to meet our little man. Everyone deserved the chance to meet a perfect child and to feel of his presence and God's love. I think if we could have we would have taken him on tour - he was that amazing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx4kZiVC9ivNas6IcB5tRVKHqqEaCwNTWWAOluLNBuFCTz2RVjCHzVmSH1VDkOorB25wWDefNL4DPCuIwWPAw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>A little video of freddie's toes. Ignore the sobs.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>That night, at 11:30 we were back in our parent room (beginning to feel like permanent residents). I was writing in Freddie's journal, Fred was watching tv. There was a knock on the door and there was the neuro surgeon. He and our nurse came in and he preceded to tell us that he'd looked at Freddie's scans and that there weren't any signs of swelling yet but that most likely there would be. He told us all about "chances" and that at the very least Freddie would have developmental issues. <i>What does that mean? He'll read at a 3rd grade level in the 6th grade? Because we can handle that.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Once again, my mind began to wander. I didn't hear anything he was saying. I began thinking things like: why is he wearing a surgical cap? Did he just come from surgery? Why is he here so late? Oh he isn't wearing a ring. Maybe I could set him up with someone?<br />
<br />
After he left, Fred looked at me and said, "if I hear the word chance one more time I think I'll punch someone." It was true. After the first meeting with our doctor who had been harsh but realistic, all we had heard from other doctors was that there was a <i>chance</i> for this or a <i>chance </i>for that. We both had wanted to scream. At what cost do we hold out hoping that one of the <i>chances </i>worked out? How long do we put our baby through this just <i>hoping</i> he survives?<br />
<br />
We went back in to sit next to Freddie for the next couple hours. Sleep meant nothing to me - it was merely something the nurses and my family told me I needed to have. But what did it matter? Soon I wouldn't be able to sit next to my baby at all.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-30995250213110810222011-04-25T09:53:00.001-07:002011-04-25T14:57:17.331-07:00Thursday.It's hard to know where to start for this part of the story. This was one of our hardest days or perhaps the beginning of hard days.<br />
<br />
When we called Thursday morning, the nurse told us that Freddie had had a rough night. His potassium levels were high so they had started him on a new medication to get them under control. The worry with high potassium levels is that it can lead to cardiac arrest. After hearing this we kicked it into high gear to pack and get ready for a week stay in Phoenix.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRgNa2MR5N-QGcRRoIyUPa98D3roGSizIynEhcuXf3Qv0Orcqfdyaatqhz6hez2EToJtZANwTa5vbrxgeZFqZTtxI3vSd7jz2VS97nBgjk1qsNBR_8Zs-dszQY7YAMPM_0Y5J-Ch5XnM/s1600/DSCN0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRgNa2MR5N-QGcRRoIyUPa98D3roGSizIynEhcuXf3Qv0Orcqfdyaatqhz6hez2EToJtZANwTa5vbrxgeZFqZTtxI3vSd7jz2VS97nBgjk1qsNBR_8Zs-dszQY7YAMPM_0Y5J-Ch5XnM/s320/DSCN0676.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We hurried to the hospital and when we made it to Freddie's bedside the worry was mostly under control. His levels had dropped - and we felt relief again.<br />
<br />
Of course there was still plenty to worry about. Our little man required a lot of support to stay at his critical but stable status. He had changed to a different ventilator that constantly stimulated his lungs though he needed almost no additional oxygen. This new ventilator was loud and made his body constantly vibrate - but he liked the stimulation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4lx0azDyPDQmOA3kfM4UasRcVaFWzGwDHU5Th9nnP-iTqBS7YsAXZr-DkMYjJDJNXrDAX5jJBxnx4H6cC9t6NAi5ZWgr_2Ykr4AmfDTAcRX141cQD6qFkkxG9XcaGNOLdZzud-mrc1o/s1600/DSCN0677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4lx0azDyPDQmOA3kfM4UasRcVaFWzGwDHU5Th9nnP-iTqBS7YsAXZr-DkMYjJDJNXrDAX5jJBxnx4H6cC9t6NAi5ZWgr_2Ykr4AmfDTAcRX141cQD6qFkkxG9XcaGNOLdZzud-mrc1o/s320/DSCN0677.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>That afternoon, they did a head ultrasound. They had found some blood in Freddie's urine and in most cases, with babies if there is blood in the urine its an indication of bleeding in other places in the body. The doctors had done a head ultrasound on Wednesday but it came back inconclusive so they wanted to double check.<br />
<br />
Hours went by without so much as a cause or reason to worry in addition to what we were already doing. We were never rushed out or moved to assist our little guy. It was just a "regular" day.<br />
<br />
Fred's parents and his sister Mandy and her family arrived from driving straight through from Arkansas. so we spent the day rotating through all of us sitting next to Freddie (only 2 were allowed at the bedside and 1 person had to be parent).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikBodxws76nFMdCan5dW5BF6bcAfme8X5naI2yDAYFX4JkfAvFoAQ1Le7qTYcc0R0nXF5ZUa210ZDf22BVui7MvChM1r4Z4y3tPxdOSdqQWAOKwcHcygKhMyxviVcq0Yan69-jfm1fGfA/s1600/DSCN0681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikBodxws76nFMdCan5dW5BF6bcAfme8X5naI2yDAYFX4JkfAvFoAQ1Le7qTYcc0R0nXF5ZUa210ZDf22BVui7MvChM1r4Z4y3tPxdOSdqQWAOKwcHcygKhMyxviVcq0Yan69-jfm1fGfA/s320/DSCN0681.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Toward the end of the day, our nurse told us that the doctor wanted to talk to us as soon as she was done with one of her other patients. Still no worry.<br />
<br />
We waited next to Freddie and our doctor walked right past us.We were slightly confused but didn't think much. A couple minutes later our nurse came and told us that the doctor wanted to talk to us in her office. Dread immediately hit me. Doctors don't pull you into their office for <b>good</b> news.<br />
<br />
We walked with our nurse back to her office where our doctor and social worker also were. Another bad sign. As we sat there, our nurse walked away and came back with a box of tissues - bad sign number 3.<br />
<br />
Our doctor showed us the scans from Wednesday. It was easy to see how there could be confusion as to what was actually going on and therefore little to be worried about. She explained that there were indications of possible brain hemmoraging but nothing definite. She told us that bleeds in the brain were classified into 4 stages. Stages 1-2 usually caused little damage but stages 3-4 caused severe damage and even death.<br />
<br />
Next she pulled up that day's scans. Immediately we could see the difference. What was an empty space in the ventricals the day before was now completely saturated with blood. The right side of the brain was so full of blood that it was pressing into the left side. It didn't take a medical degree to see the damage. It was devastating. Our doctor pointed out several things and then took us back into the parent room. We sat down and they began telling us about the damage and what it meant for our little boy.<br />
<br />
Our perfect, tiny little boy had a stage 4 hemmorage. Because the bleeding was in the brain there was nothing they could do to reverse it, drain it, or make it better faster. They couldn't do anything but let the body drain it on its own. The damage was irreversible and we were told that Freddie had a 95-98% chance of being severely mentally handicapped, would most likely never walk, talk, or do anything for himself, and they told us that he would almost positively have cerebral palsy. And that outcome was ONLY if he was to not have any additional struggles. that was his best case scenario.<br />
<br />
They began talking about outcomes, quality of life, DNRs, choices, survival, and a million other things. We couldn't even understand what they were saying. We knew they were asking us something but we couldn't understand the question. We were given a choice. A choice no parent should ever have to make. Would we chose to put our child through months and months of struggle, pain, tests, and <i>hope</i> that he survived - knowing that <b>if</b> he made it through the NICU he would have cerebral palsy and severe disabilities.<br />
<br />
Or would we recognize the Lord's plan and allow our child to return home to heaven after completing his short journey here.<br />
<br />
We sobbed. This wasn't the way our story was supposed to play out. We were supposed to take home a healthy miracle baby that would beat the odds.<br />
<br />
While our doctor was hoping for some kind of decision at that moment, we couldn't give her one. They left us and we continued to cry as we prayed for guidance in what we should do.<br />
<br />
We had our families come in and they could immediately tell the news wasn't good. I couldn't look at anyone as they entered the room so my mom immediately rushed to my side and began to cry. We told them what the doctors said and we all cried. We prayed together as a family and both Fred and I received blessings. I can't describe the feeling in the room - there was the complete and utter dispare but at the same time there was this feeling of comfort and peace. Our parents told us they would support our decision - which ever one we made. We were grateful for this but at the same time I didn't feel qualified to make this decision. I felt like a child - not old enough to do anything for myself, let alone make a decision about the life of another.<br />
<br />
When we finally composed ourselves, we emerged from the room and went to sit with our son. When I sat next to Freddie, I couldn't keep it together. How could something that looked so perfect on the outside be so broken on the inside? It couldn't be possible. He reacted to our touch, to me tickling his feet, to our voices - how could he have such a massive brain injury?<br />
<br />
I remember that I asked our nurse, in broken sobs, what would happen if the bleeding was gone the next day? What if it healed itself? Her answer was - the damage is done. Even when the bleeding stops, the damage has already been done and there is no fixing it. These words broke my heart.<br />
<br />
I think we immediately knew what we had to do but we couldn't vocalize it. How do you say those words out loud? We couldn't do it. We prayed the decision would be taken from us because we weren't sure we could actually say goodbye on our own.<br />
<br />
Every night at the NICU the nurses swapped from 7-7:30 so we were kicked out. When we went back in after shift change, the entire mood around Freddie had changed. That hope and optimism that had surrounded him over that last couple days was gone. Replacing it was this awkward tension as though all the nurses and staff were staring at us knowing what Freddie's future held. The hope and smiles were gone - instead there were sympathetic looks, avoiding eyes, and hushed whispers.<br />
<br />
Our night nurse approached us as we sat at Freddie's incubator and said, "I'm sure you're up to date on the latest and I heard you heard the bad news" (sympathetic smile) This immediately causes me to break into tears (aka sobs) and she walks away.<br />
<br />
In my head I was thinking, <i>yes I know some "bad news" but what "bad news" are you talking about? What are the rumors about my son?</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvZxZH1LErT8HJKgFFk7SGOwcD9TdOiJAeuJMsEK4RCwVJxNmGBZBFApv7jxT4oYjPHiTW8R_h5HDR0m_y9yKwBnVsnoMR99FtAlLaoBEVA1x2J3IeBDLqEhsKv-kUfBRCQ3GvXWuM6o/s1600/DSCN0682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvZxZH1LErT8HJKgFFk7SGOwcD9TdOiJAeuJMsEK4RCwVJxNmGBZBFApv7jxT4oYjPHiTW8R_h5HDR0m_y9yKwBnVsnoMR99FtAlLaoBEVA1x2J3IeBDLqEhsKv-kUfBRCQ3GvXWuM6o/s320/DSCN0682.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>That night we had our bishop come out to offer us some kind of guidance. We told him the prognosis, introduced him to Freddie, and he told us that he felt that there was no <b>right</b> decision. He said that the Spirit would guide us to make the right decision and therefore we couldn't make the wrong one. When he left we felt additional comfort and peace - yet the same uneasy feeling that <b>WE</b> had to make this decision.<br />
<br />
The hospital then gave us that parent room for the night. We were relieved they allowed us to stay in the parent room. After hearing the news about Freddie I couldn't bear to leave him. I needed to be next to him talking to him, telling him how much we loved him and were proud of him. I needed to be singing his favorite song, Forget You (the Glee version), tickling his feet, and making him hold my hand - even when he didn't want to.<br />
<br />
We stayed in the NICU until almost 2:00 that morning when I finally pulled myself away to force to get some <s>sleep</s> rest (insert praise for sleeping pills).Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-60931572514652162742011-04-19T20:02:00.006-07:002011-04-19T20:58:57.427-07:00A Blur<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tuesday</span></b><br />
When we got to St. Joseph's, we found our little boy and didn't leave his side. The mood around Freddie was extremely positive. We kept hearing things like "it'll be a long, tough road but he'll make it - and so will you" and "Take pictures every day because when you take him home you'll be amazed at where this little man started".<br />
<br />
We were overwhelmed and worried but felt nothing but optimism.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56D1ropxnX3ZU5wV5ZAzzxrUh4QNykjjelbxXhp_Ndw_HOtyg0Q-9p9IxIZ6P2IKZm_B4YVF2LFuYEqvvhVWSoAxX9KPTaryos3f0AEh0_4gXfdtrtmuslrIBWmaLzUnZuA4YF8b2RR8/s1600/IMAG0108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56D1ropxnX3ZU5wV5ZAzzxrUh4QNykjjelbxXhp_Ndw_HOtyg0Q-9p9IxIZ6P2IKZm_B4YVF2LFuYEqvvhVWSoAxX9KPTaryos3f0AEh0_4gXfdtrtmuslrIBWmaLzUnZuA4YF8b2RR8/s320/IMAG0108.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
Freddie was extremely active when we were with him. He was punching and kicking non-stop - movements I recognized. Movements that I should have been feeling...not seeing. He had these huge feet and extra long skinny fingers.<br />
<br />
The nurses were incredibly supportive. The staff took us into a parent room and told us it was ours for the night. We sat in there trying to gain some footing as to what the next four months of our lives would be like.<br />
<br />
We sat on the bed in complete and utter exhaustion. We had someone from the March of Dimes come talk to us and left us with even more hope about how great our little man was and how we would fight this battle until we took home our baby boy.<br />
<br />
At around 11pm, my parents walked through the door. We took them back to meet little Freddie, at about 1am it was decided that there was no way I was going to get any sleep in that room and it was best just to drive the 40 minutes home.<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Wednesday</span></b><br />
The next morning, we woke up tried to take care of a little business like making sure my work projects were handed off, that little Freddie was listed on our insurance, and that Fred was covered with school and work. Fred's mom called to say they were leaving soon and would be there the following afternoon.<br />
<br />
We packed up some snacks, clothes, and journals to head right back out to the hospital.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Emoer-evTDPKY9rMfvHiEj4st6qrVxuwTuQnurWPsaNyMbN2vvg8WkaQb54wmGgGrf6RpZCxxzZ-KJFG5IGJIpEWsgcIh5EMVQIT_acwH54tD1y8VMIUH4ljC3QgEFeVZ18N9YG9ImY/s1600/IMAG0112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Emoer-evTDPKY9rMfvHiEj4st6qrVxuwTuQnurWPsaNyMbN2vvg8WkaQb54wmGgGrf6RpZCxxzZ-KJFG5IGJIpEWsgcIh5EMVQIT_acwH54tD1y8VMIUH4ljC3QgEFeVZ18N9YG9ImY/s320/IMAG0112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Freddie had had a rough night but we still felt like there was nothing to be worried about. He was critical but stable. He needed help to breathe but didn't need much oxygen. His blood pressure was really low so every time they took blood for tests they had to give him a transfusion (approx. 6 cc's) and he needed the assistance of 3 different blood pressure meds. He was being pumped with all sorts of medications that he looked pink, <i>healthy</i>, and plump.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mJRm18zXNnHkVn04mIxAfWo57F0SaYrGuyBdg7eQoABM2csG0LZ8_0yLuUbUhSd52xgD2TZkCw8dhMmaAxDp_jnRfGBtAE2Bxbh0kB-JSTnY67k-ZR0onznuAuSQruKbMUg0w18HzCw/s1600/IMAG0105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mJRm18zXNnHkVn04mIxAfWo57F0SaYrGuyBdg7eQoABM2csG0LZ8_0yLuUbUhSd52xgD2TZkCw8dhMmaAxDp_jnRfGBtAE2Bxbh0kB-JSTnY67k-ZR0onznuAuSQruKbMUg0w18HzCw/s320/IMAG0105.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Because of his traumatic birth experience, he was extremely bruised and battered so he was under the billirubin lights to decrease his bruising.<br />
<br />
We took all of this in stride because again, there was this optimism surrounding him from us, his doctors, and his nurses.<br />
<br />
We met with a social worker as well. We were told that we may qualify for the Ronald McDonald House and be able to spend some time there instead of commuting the 40 minutes each way - every day. Our social worker was nice, but cold. She was very matter-of-fact, to the point, and lacked any degree of compassion. When we first met her, she approached us in a way that was like "well? what do you need me for?" to which our answer would have been "um. we have no idea. We've never done this before - what do we need to be doing?"<br />
<br />
Her gold star moment was that she was able to get us a room at the extended stay hotel (directly behind the hospital) for a week from a private donor. After the week expired, she would see about renewing it or look into the Ronald McDonald House. We would have to spend the night at home again but then we would have the room starting the next day. This was a huge relief as driving back and forth to our house was going to get expensive and time consuming. Not to mention that if something went wrong during a time we weren't there, it would take us at least 40 minutes to get to the hospital.<br />
<br />
We sat next to him pretty much the rest of the day - taking turns only to rotate the 2 allowed back there. We left the hospital only to eat dinner and then to finally head home at the end of the night.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-6357376211140455692011-04-17T07:15:00.001-07:002011-04-17T12:29:03.519-07:00The Beginning<i>Over the last couple of months, before Freddie came to Earth I'd been having weird thoughts and feelings regarding having a baby. For some reason, whenever I talked about it with my friends or with family, I could never fully picture me with this baby and I kept receiving promptings that this pregnancy wasn't going to go as I'd planned and I needed to be prepared for that. Of course, I brushed off any and all of those thoughts telling myself I was crazy and was making up thoughts like that. I'd never even told Fred this until we were in the midst of the only week we would have with our perfect baby boy in this life. Looking back I know I was being prepared by the Spirit and that I've known something was going to happen - I just didn't know what.</i><br />
<br />
My pregnancy was perfect. There I said it. I was never sick. never tired. I felt great and I even felt cute. I had little to complain about and therefore little to worry about. Monday, April 4th was like any other day. I worked and chatted with friends about finalizing baby shower lists and dates, girls trips, and an upcoming Utah trip. That night, I began having some weird stomach cramping and Freddie wasn't moving as much as he usually did. I was of course nervous but tried not to think about it because I just knew I was being paranoid. The cramping began to get painful and continued all night but I still tried to brush it off thinking that this was all normal pregnancy stuff and it was finally my turn to have something to complain about. Around 3:30 AM the cramping was accompanied by bleeding and that's when I decided we needed to go to the hospital <i>just in case</i>.<br />
<br />
On the way to the hospital, I talked/cried to the OB on call at my office (someone I'd never met or heard of). She wasn't worried about the symptoms but agreed that I needed to go. Fred thought we should go to the Mercy Gilbert Hospital which is about 10 minutes from where we live. I said no, the Chandler Hospital was within 3 minutes and since they were going to give me some medicine and send me home it didn't matter where we went.<br />
<br />
When we checked in at labor and delivery, they did a couple quick tests, hooked me up to a fetal heart rate monitor, and then ordered an ultrasound. I continued to have cramping which was getting more and more painful. The triage nurse commented that it looked like I could be having some minor contractions but nothing consistent. She checked on the bleeding and then left us alone.<br />
<br />
During the ultrasound, the technician wasn't worried. She told us that Freddie's heart rate was fine and the placenta was fine as well. I continued to have cramping so she asked if I had received anything for the pain yet and said that hopefully they would be getting me something soon. As she left, I began to cramp again and the nurse came in to lower my bed to help relieve some of the pain. Moments later, three nurses surrounded my bed and were telling me that they were taking me into a room.<br />
<br />
As they wheeled me into a room, I kept thinking "why are they taking me into a room? I just need some medicine and an order to be on bed rest and then send me home!!!"<br />
<br />
When we got into my room, they had me move beds. When I sat up the room was a beehive of activity - there were nurses moving very quickly organizing equipment, an incubator, and a million other things. We had no idea what was happening. Poor Fred just had to stand in a corner to stay out of the way yet no one would say what was happening. One minute they weren't talking to us just buzzing around us and the next I had an IV and a nurse was in my face asking me what we wanted to do if our baby came out and wasn't breathing.<br />
<br />
What do you mean if our baby came out? I'm only 23 weeks pregnant and I just need to be sent home.<br />
<br />
Of course Fred and I said we wanted to save our baby but how was it possible that I was in labor?<br />
<br />
The nurses tried to help me breath through the cramping which I was told were actually contractions - something that hadn't crossed my mind because I 1. had never been in labor and 2. was only 23 weeks pregnant so this wasn't a possibility.<br />
<br />
At this point, I begin to panic and yet I'm still contracting and it's getting more and more painful. I uncalmly ask for something for the pain - something to <b>stop</b> the contracting - anything and am told that there is nothing they can give me because I am dilated to a 10 and anything they gave me would mostly effect the baby at that point which would do more harm than good.<br />
<br />
WAIT. DILATED TO A 10??<br />
<br />
They told me that I was having this baby and all they were waiting for was the neonatologist and my doctor and then we would begin.<br />
<br />
It was probably about 6am at this point. I tell Fred that I want a blessing before this happens - he immediately gets on the phone and tells me that two of our friends are on their way.<br />
<br />
The Neonatologist and OB get there and immediately begin prepping. The nurse pops back into my face to tell me all about the risks and outcomes with having a 23 week old baby and does an excellent job of scaring us.<br />
<br />
My contractions are strengthening and when my doctor is all suited up she tells me that she's going to break my water. As she's reaching for the hook, my water breaks. She tells me that during my next contraction I need to push. At this point my contractions are about every 45 seconds, after she says this everything stopped.<br />
<br />
I didn't have a contraction for another 3 minutes. It was the longest, scariest, most restful period. Then another one came and out came Freddie. This is a bit gross- but he literally shot out. The doctor barely caught him and actually kind of fumbled him in the process.<br />
<br />
He was born at 6:22 AM.<br />
<br />
They wisked him away and once they got him breathing and somewhat stabilized, Fred was able to go over and look at his tiny newborn son. On their way out they stopped and showed me this tiny little person. I couldn't see much of him and they literally only paused on their way to the NICU.<br />
<br />
They finished taking care of me and cleared out. I felt fine. Like nothing had ever happened.<br />
<br />
Our friends called Fred because they had just gotten there to give me a blessing - he went out to speak to them and I just sat staring at the now empty room - wondering how this could have happened and when I was going to wake up. Finally a nurse comes to ask if they've fed me. nope. So they get my order and leave to find me a breakfast tray. Fred comes back in and then a new nurse comes in to say she's replacing whoever my previous nurse was and would be taking care of me. She was great (and will get her own post). She knew of our worries and told us that they were working on stabilizing little Freddie and that as soon as they did he would be moved to St. Joseph's hospital in Phoenix that had more experience with babies his size. She told us that before they life flighted him she would make sure we got to see him.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2lmL71VgWH9hjTik5HJKPzSYfIofnllxKJhZtgePx9iXjobTcz6QFUTHbG9N5lY7Czwd_tWzw8uBOyKCBKfz3qCdkTqoN_kHzrOaTx5ZryoZwNc3n1oAWGDwZzlKWyRXTlbROulbsLc/s1600/freddie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2lmL71VgWH9hjTik5HJKPzSYfIofnllxKJhZtgePx9iXjobTcz6QFUTHbG9N5lY7Czwd_tWzw8uBOyKCBKfz3qCdkTqoN_kHzrOaTx5ZryoZwNc3n1oAWGDwZzlKWyRXTlbROulbsLc/s400/freddie1.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first family picture</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3ns39mMfLsyKGZucz5z1xRhQuvJcCe_Kja5IynjVscwc-oZViGZBVvy5qaDoUKjeXI4ClLUtzELILdNlQZRGT8I7_L4_h-I5PcE3SOWVjP0MBovxKzEXKePp6gUVktgZo3r1Ia2tA-4/s1600/IMAG0090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3ns39mMfLsyKGZucz5z1xRhQuvJcCe_Kja5IynjVscwc-oZViGZBVvy5qaDoUKjeXI4ClLUtzELILdNlQZRGT8I7_L4_h-I5PcE3SOWVjP0MBovxKzEXKePp6gUVktgZo3r1Ia2tA-4/s400/IMAG0090.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72ljhyphenhyphengm4XfgsPXXQM0eNMNA6meXdT60imjt4BojTpOSJQ6OxWx3mZ_kAnYUXjYJ23X-sPgmjkoMY1_ABMuJ1pAd_VQteY0k8QC0nlrHAW2_P2pVD4YlhIKJe2xOv59sep4YyKdd-gB4/s1600/freddie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72ljhyphenhyphengm4XfgsPXXQM0eNMNA6meXdT60imjt4BojTpOSJQ6OxWx3mZ_kAnYUXjYJ23X-sPgmjkoMY1_ABMuJ1pAd_VQteY0k8QC0nlrHAW2_P2pVD4YlhIKJe2xOv59sep4YyKdd-gB4/s400/freddie2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTF1ox96qHf0CswnFbDQx1srxjmwa6Ydmx64r0_SBwF7aksKXGEOZIBw375k8gfuEKO7lXxoffm2Ob4yfqlsr4yovIoA_Bn3Nu6mivgaYUuAcpotht80z-PqZTRT3alHxPTKQeFycwXxY/s1600/Freddie5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTF1ox96qHf0CswnFbDQx1srxjmwa6Ydmx64r0_SBwF7aksKXGEOZIBw375k8gfuEKO7lXxoffm2Ob4yfqlsr4yovIoA_Bn3Nu6mivgaYUuAcpotht80z-PqZTRT3alHxPTKQeFycwXxY/s400/Freddie5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>We were so blessed that our friends lived just as close to the hospital because they were able to come back and give both me and little Freddie a blessing. As soon as they finished my blessing, my nurse came in and told us we could see our baby. We all went down to the NICU and there he was. <b>This tiny, 1 pound 6 ounce, 11 inch baby boy.</b> He was perfect.<br />
<br />
While in the NICU, our friends Curtis & Craig were able to bless Freddie. It was one of the most tender experiences I've ever witnessed. Freddie was in an incubator and Curtis was only able to get one finger on his tiny head. Despite the rush of motion in the NICU, there was a peace that was evident as Curtis blessed Freddie.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjblkg7ciXs5m7oJ9F19zfOe4IkQChColYPuHiZT7o7Lx0cJ0fGciP12j_yXIGxq7ndF1nqEBAxAAQHo29tX6RZ4mtnxm8mW_8BM4vp_2CK2iX_ADpYulBK6NbW-fr53XS2il24mO21s/s1600/freddie4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjblkg7ciXs5m7oJ9F19zfOe4IkQChColYPuHiZT7o7Lx0cJ0fGciP12j_yXIGxq7ndF1nqEBAxAAQHo29tX6RZ4mtnxm8mW_8BM4vp_2CK2iX_ADpYulBK6NbW-fr53XS2il24mO21s/s400/freddie4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpIuiWiDm6QGMXNJKwylZ1wT88kTwWM6l2au6EZS6aLsrKmel9uLCBhJFsjY_D_B50BX922tMgB8IkK0tYvrNmEnB1gskyDSf11_5UtmVsI-o6YgwiyBe4YuabHtDiTQ5eAsd3PCz9LU/s1600/IMAG0094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpIuiWiDm6QGMXNJKwylZ1wT88kTwWM6l2au6EZS6aLsrKmel9uLCBhJFsjY_D_B50BX922tMgB8IkK0tYvrNmEnB1gskyDSf11_5UtmVsI-o6YgwiyBe4YuabHtDiTQ5eAsd3PCz9LU/s400/IMAG0094.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
</div>While the Helicopter crew came to prepare Freddie for flight, one of the NICU nurses came up to me and put her arm around me and offered a prayer. The staff there was very sweet and supportive. They told us countless stories of babies his size beating the odds and making it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcmAuimkH779_wqMD_8F1YeEi7qiC5XCXIwng0G4z5UyvwDgUJ5Ls1cKXneWmtbVLSIXBrbBj_ZEiEhTrYruwjTaJVgY37dw-nzHFAKKDB3BIxHShSJ0PqLpKFy47cryV1SdnUv8peWM/s1600/IMAG0089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcmAuimkH779_wqMD_8F1YeEi7qiC5XCXIwng0G4z5UyvwDgUJ5Ls1cKXneWmtbVLSIXBrbBj_ZEiEhTrYruwjTaJVgY37dw-nzHFAKKDB3BIxHShSJ0PqLpKFy47cryV1SdnUv8peWM/s400/IMAG0089.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't be alarmed. The plastic was to keep his tiny body warm and add humidity</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSsjxMlk9lOCGaqkhBvr9PyFaVm-bw-Asfij3o4LrgT2xiESwSCH08NK-eUwERv85fH7kjwlsylpaJOLplUsnYbl08nZwqBugdPAEjkXPwpZMOjV2Hk8BLpV91DFGmzA75e87z9tEwoQ/s1600/IMAG0097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSsjxMlk9lOCGaqkhBvr9PyFaVm-bw-Asfij3o4LrgT2xiESwSCH08NK-eUwERv85fH7kjwlsylpaJOLplUsnYbl08nZwqBugdPAEjkXPwpZMOjV2Hk8BLpV91DFGmzA75e87z9tEwoQ/s400/IMAG0097.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmPN9cGEzPTjFPqhWe5dZE1G15C7jfzovdkY47aeYtM4TfCia0EOmGi6HKy6at9PXslbGAHxBnCCDZmvwJYEELPEqMx9othZPLHi_rh-AXi5OkwEQ8Iia-hHOVdufNhWv0khssBZQDn8/s1600/IMAG0098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmPN9cGEzPTjFPqhWe5dZE1G15C7jfzovdkY47aeYtM4TfCia0EOmGi6HKy6at9PXslbGAHxBnCCDZmvwJYEELPEqMx9othZPLHi_rh-AXi5OkwEQ8Iia-hHOVdufNhWv0khssBZQDn8/s400/IMAG0098.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrZDU71_b7CU8V54hKjFyKaIJpgmTYnO7X1lzOAEhhKqlJl73pq-_ZeHRbPngYE1MD8N5FpwCj3G2XMEpRR1jenIEopqHbACKsI7n5XdHA2IoRckOh8uOh4Zc8qd08XdaiJPel73rjqw/s1600/IMAG0102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrZDU71_b7CU8V54hKjFyKaIJpgmTYnO7X1lzOAEhhKqlJl73pq-_ZeHRbPngYE1MD8N5FpwCj3G2XMEpRR1jenIEopqHbACKsI7n5XdHA2IoRckOh8uOh4Zc8qd08XdaiJPel73rjqw/s400/IMAG0102.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZxpK8gX_11syeLE2gFFM2hBBAbD1hcuPa3sxT3c7I2x963-JqArbqd_cSYEz_wRcNwKph27aaEonBPh6dH-mQ3fqzOJrXVKF5Oi7bwirMSdEvi4e5JoeTTKgAdDB62DgemJQ5XVDmGQ/s1600/freddie3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZxpK8gX_11syeLE2gFFM2hBBAbD1hcuPa3sxT3c7I2x963-JqArbqd_cSYEz_wRcNwKph27aaEonBPh6dH-mQ3fqzOJrXVKF5Oi7bwirMSdEvi4e5JoeTTKgAdDB62DgemJQ5XVDmGQ/s400/freddie3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for his flight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Freddie was then life flighted to St. Joseph's and we were sent back up to a new room. We spent a few hours there (wondering why we were at a hospital. I felt great) and then they discharged me. In total, we were in the hospital for <b>less than ten hours</b>. What I would later call a drive by birthing. They didn't have a chart for me - we weren't served any food - and all of the expectations I had about birth were blown.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyH_TCq2N4KQbwOJQ5yt_QNL8b6fLCRpiXlYKvjU88AVhNg0H6gIzXbEK618ldiHG34zrsh5ECTbRvsiBgfFAV4V13w0ESzJ51RanIeiE8yYx08aZFzpByyzpIOs9lV6xfEMpeGmDjgs/s1600/IMAG0103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyH_TCq2N4KQbwOJQ5yt_QNL8b6fLCRpiXlYKvjU88AVhNg0H6gIzXbEK618ldiHG34zrsh5ECTbRvsiBgfFAV4V13w0ESzJ51RanIeiE8yYx08aZFzpByyzpIOs9lV6xfEMpeGmDjgs/s400/IMAG0103.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is everything we brought to the hospital.<br />
My purse & a book.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Where was my crushed ice and free hospital mug? (this may actually be the things I was most concerned with - in regards to my hospital stay that is)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-443816601923702958.post-52068232860197460362011-04-14T20:32:00.000-07:002011-04-14T20:32:28.718-07:00Freddie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Wv0GtU7o_L8dgi1dmZbI0lYsThfGDJyYluhTXFXjIL-QVe30kmJIu6dm0hfvfez6bSuGBtvxE8A8nzesNFiq6lcs-be3lV422yKLze0tA_B9GNZXd6lVeyPkBp6qwcw7qCmnqMOvGlA/s1600/IMAG0124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Wv0GtU7o_L8dgi1dmZbI0lYsThfGDJyYluhTXFXjIL-QVe30kmJIu6dm0hfvfez6bSuGBtvxE8A8nzesNFiq6lcs-be3lV422yKLze0tA_B9GNZXd6lVeyPkBp6qwcw7qCmnqMOvGlA/s400/IMAG0124.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Fred Joseph Wald VI was born 17 weeks early on April 5th.<br />
He was on a special mission from heaven and needed only to receive his mortal body. While in our arms on April 12th, he returned home to his Heavenly Father. He is one of God's most precious angels and we are so lucky he chose us as his Earthly parents.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We know he is with us and that we will see him again.</div><br />
This is by far the hardest thing we have ever gone through. One of my nurses told me that it was therapeutic to tell the story and that the more I talked about little Freddie and our brief time together on Earth - the more I would heal. I've decided to document Freddie's journey in hopes that it will not only help me heal in a small way but give us a place to remember our incredible experiences, heartaches, and tender mercies from the Lord.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13335879749115292341noreply@blogger.com17