On March 12, 2013, our then-13-month-old daughter, who is called Rosebud on the blog, was injured in an accident in our home. This is Part 4 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. I apologize for the long delay between posts. In fact, I am completing this post (which was half-written) over a year following the writing of the earlier posts. This story is very difficult to write and relive. If you choose to comment, please be kind. I promise you that there is no judgment or condemnation or blame that you can place on me that I haven't already placed on myself. The index to the whole series can be found by clicking this link.
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March 13, 2013
1:00 am
Rosebud and I arrive in the PICU. Her room is crowded: several nurses and CNAs. The doctor isn't present, but is available if needed. As they take her from me, I discover one of her IVs has been pulled out of her little hand by her erratic movements. The blood drips off her fingers. No hand so small should ever need an IV. I apologize to the room at large, believing it is my fault that the IV came out, of all things. I feel dizzy, watching them work on my baby, who is still largely unresponsive. I must sit down in the corner of the room.
One nurse approaches. Stephanie, with long hair. There is something about this nurse: she shines. She asks if there is anything I need. I don't know, I say. I don't know what I need or even if I need anything. She says she will bring me some water.
The ice is crunchy.
Someone else approaches. Paperwork. I answer questions. I sign. I can't pay attention.
Rosebud's assigned nurse for the night, Stephanie with short hair, says that she is going to park her computer by the door to keep a close eye on my baby. Someone else tells me that Husband is in the waiting room. I am so relieved that he found us.
They ask if I want them to go get him. I say no, I need to trade places with him. They say we can both be with Rosebud. No, I say. Our three-year-old is here too. I will go sit with him. They understand now.
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1:15 am
I enter the waiting room. I hug my big boy, my brave J-dawg. He must be so tired.
Husband says they went to the car. His supervisor had a cell phone car charger that fit my phone, so they took it out to plug it in.
Husband goes to see Rosebud. He hasn't seen her since we turned her over to the EMTs in the ambulance. He doesn't stay with her long; it is painful and this is how he deals with it.
I cuddle J-dawg and try to convince him to sleep. He doesn't want to. We talk a little about what happened. He understands as well as is possible. No sleeping yet.
Husband returns. He thinks we should all try to eat something, thinks it might help us rest. The hospital cafeteria is open until 2am, so we go down. I don't want to leave Rosebud, but know Husband is right. I ask the nurses to call us the moment anything changes.
Husband also says that my mom called to say that my dad is on his way and will arrive around 2am.
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1:30 am
The cafeteria food isn't bad, but I only eat a few bites. J-dawg eats about half a waffle. He is clearly so tired. I wish we could help him sleep. I worry he'll have nightmares.
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1:45 am
We can't eat anymore. Husband wants to go to the car before returning to PICU. He left it on so the phone could charge. We head to the main lobby / visitor's entrance.
Daddy. There is my dad. He's at the desk, registering as a visitor.
I sob. I can't stop.
Guilt. So much guilt. This is his only granddaughter. What if she doesn't make it? It's my fault, all my fault.
...Will he ever forgive me.
Tears. Hugs. "It's going to be okay," he says. "I don't know what's going to happen, but it's going to be okay."
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
Jeric is happy to see his grandpa. I am glad we aren't alone anymore.
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2:00 am
We are back at the PICU waiting room. I send Husband and my dad back to see her. No change. She is still out of it. They are going to give her a priesthood blessing. I stay with Jeric. I want to be there for the blessing, but Jeric can't be in the PICU and we are not waiting any longer for a blessing.
Jeric and I pray. He still can't sleep.
I try to help him relax. We snuggle together on the pull-out chair bed. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know what to say.
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2:30 am
Dad/Grandpa finds us in the waiting room. He takes over responsibility of helping Jeric.
I go back to my girl's side. You'll hardly see me away from her for the foreseeable future.
It is now Wednesday morning. I don't sleep until Saturday.
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2:35 am
Husband tells me that the blessing was comforting. He says he wanted to bless her to heal completely, that there would be no lasting effects of her injuries. He believes this is his desire, not the prompting of the Spirit. He makes the conscious decision to *not* say these words.
They come out anyway. He felt assurance.
I feel assurance, too. I feel encouraged. I know our journey is only just beginning, but for now, I have hope. I have faith.
I don't know, yet, just how much that peace will be challenged in the hours, days, weeks, months ahead.
Our girl is beautiful. She is strong. She has so much ahead of her, so much light to give to the world. I have known this from the beginning of her life.
Oh, how I want to hold her again!
How I wish we were never here!
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