Miracle, Part 7: Friday

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 5 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. 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.

Due to the emotional difficulty, I never did get everything written down in journal format at the time. I carried a journal with me through our entire hospital stay, but somehow I just couldn't bring myself to open it. I do regret that, in some ways. Parts 1-4 of this series, which were (mostly) written shortly after the events, are presented in a present-tense format. The rest of the series will be composed of (1) my facebook status updates and comments from the time of the events (pink text), and (2) my current commentary for filling in details, emotions, etc. 

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March 15, 2013

By Friday morning, I was approaching 72 hours of all-but-continuous wakefulness (I may have nodded off for 2 minutes once or twice, but that's it). I can't remember if they, meaning my family, convinced me to go try to sleep at the Family House on Thursday night, but I kind of doubt it. I think Husband might have gone, though. 

Dr. MG (cardio) and Dr. B (neuro) both came by again on rounds. Dr. B said again that he saw nothing too concerning, and Dr. MG continued to see fantastic results to the medication. Rosebud's echocardiogram that day was very, very close to normal. I believe that she started weaning off the heart meds around this time.

In the afternoon, the intensivist-on-call (the doctor in charge of the PICU; four of them rotated shifts) decided that Rosebud's ventilator settings had been reduced enough to try to wean her off the ventilator and extubate her. I wasn't sure she was ready. I had been told we'd try toward the later part of the weekend, not on Friday afternoon before the weekend really began. The intensivist basically dismissed my fears. Everyone was so excited to try, and I tried to be. I mean, I was excited that they thought she was ready, but I couldn't get past the sick feeling in my stomach. 

The extubation took place around 5 in the afternoon.

We were able to hold her.

I'd wondered if I'd ever be able to hold her again, alive, and it happened. I can't describe to you just how that felt. The words don't exist.

She never really regained consciousness, though. She mostly just slept. But look how cute she was with her hand tucked up under her chin! (Notice her swollen eyelids, though.)

6:46pm:

"Another good day! She is off almost everything, including the ventilator! She hasn't awoken fully yet but we are able to hold her now. I'm continuing to pump to keep up my milk supply, but will be able to nurse her when she acts like she wants to try. Pray that we'll be able to reestablish because she needs that goodness. She's on a high-flow nasal canula for breathing support, which she still needs at various levels depending on her mood at that moment. She is feisty! Once her breathing difficulties resolve, she'll be transferred to the regular pediatric unit for a while...but maybe we can go home in a few days. I know I hope that happens!"

As the day turned to night, the settings on Rosebud's high-flow oxygen machine needed to turned up, then up again, then up some more. In the early morning hours, she required re-intubation. 

Miracle, Part 6: Thursday

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 5 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. 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.

Due to the emotional difficulty, I never did get everything written down in journal format at the time. I carried a journal with me through our entire hospital stay, but somehow I just couldn't bring myself to open it. I do regret that, in some ways. Parts 1-4 of this series, which were (mostly) written shortly after the events, are presented in a present-tense format. The rest of the series will be composed of (1) my facebook status updates and comments from the time of the events, and (2) my current commentary for filling in details, emotions, etc. 

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March 14, 2013

2:50 am (yes I was awake, still):
"Her heart is the big worry now. Her lungs are still weak and she's still on the ventilator (she could breathe on her own but was getting distressed and fighting, so they sedated and intubated her to allow her body to heal without fighting itself), and they said her lungs might get worse before they get better. But her heart was really bad earlier. There has been some improvement so we are counting our blessings! We have a room at a nearby home for families of hospital patients so were able to get showers and a little sleep (except I didn't sleep). [Jeric] is with my parents and lots of family has come to visit us today (not her, necessarily, but us). We have seen just how many wonderful friends we have -- thank you all for your love, support, and prayers. We have felt every one of them! I'll try to update again soon."

The heart worry that I mentioned her was that they had noticed some irregularities in her blood labs on Wednesday, plus I think something sounded off when someone was checking her heart tones. I don't remember all the details, but her bloodwork looked similar to what it would look like for someone who had suffered a heart attack. The pediatric cardiologist (Dr. MG) was called in. He ordered an echocardiogram and read that before coming to see Rosebud in person. When he saw her, he couldn't believe that she was the same child whose heart he had just been looking at on the echo. He thought she should have been much more sick than she appeared to be, based on the echo. Dr. MG said that this was an encouraging sign, and put her on a medication to help her heart get back to normal function. He said she would have regular echocardiograms over the next several days, probably starting with a second one later that some day, to see if she was responding to the medication.

Apparently, the damage to Rosebud's heart was consistent with a heart attack, but with no blockage to cause one. Dr. MG asked lots of questions about the accident, did it hit her in the chest, etc. I couldn't remember well enough. It all happened too quickly. I thought that it had hit her in the back as she fell, not on her chest. He told us the next day that he had consulted with other pediatric cardiologists across the country, and that no one he talked to had ever seen such an injury related to a traumatic accident. He couldn't find any instances of a similar case in the literature for his discipline, either. He was able to find a cardiologist for adults who had seen one or two cases of this in adults. Dr. MG said several times that Rosebud was "worthy of a case study." I hope that some other doctor is able to learn about her case and help another child, somewhere else.

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8:13 am:
"More encouraging signs overnight. Looks like she's going to be on the ventilator for a while still. Heart rate continues to drop and is now in the 'high normal' range -- yay! We know she will probably still have setbacks but are grateful for what improvement she has had."

10:48 am:
"Heart is even better!"

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Late Wednesday evening, Joni posted on her facebook that they were in our area for a family emergency and needed someone to keep their dog for a few days (they'd lived in the area when their oldest was a baby, so knew some people who could help). One of my best friends, Ameleah, saw the post and said later that her heart dropped instantly because she just knew it was something about me, my husband, or my kids. Ameleah called me on Thursday morning and we talked for a long time. She expressed her desire to show her love and support by visiting us in the hospital, a two-hour drive. We decided that she and her newest baby (I had visited them in the hospital on the day he was born, less than a month previously) would come in the afternoon.

In the intervening hours, we met with Dr. MG (cardio) and Dr. B (neurosurgeon). Also, I spent a couple of hours with my friend the Medela (pump).

Later, Husband and I went to the Family House for showers and naps. Again, I couldn't sleep, though I did try.

We had specific, sacred experiences at this time that confirmed to us that several deceased relatives were watching over our Rosebud, offering unseen-but-felt support and comfort to us, and making sure that she was NEVER alone (there was always a family member with her, but sometimes we were asleep and maybe missed things). The details feel too private and sacred to share in this forum, but I feel a need to testify that these experiences did occur, and these spirits were there. As surely as I know that I was there in that room with my daughter, I know that they were there, too. Sometimes they took turns checking on Jeric, too. :)

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While we were at the family house, Kevin and Joni traveled the hour+ to our home to get a few things for us and help it look "normal" for when we would return home. I told them to get rid of the Item, after the people came to weigh it (it was heavier than I expected...57 pounds, and the stand was 38). I didn't care what they did with it, but I never wanted to see it again, thankyouverymuch. Before they got rid of it, though, they set it back up and took a video of throwing it down. Husband wanted to see what had happened. I have still not seen this video, and don't know if I ever will. But they described it to me. It helped us understand where we made our Big Mistake. Please, someone, learn from our mistake. It never occurred to us to think of this, but I hope that our story can warn another family in time.

When Rosebud used the open drawer as leverage to return to a standing position, it caused the front-heavy Item to slide forward on the stand. Once it started to slide, there was no stopping it. It fell much more quickly than the stand, the front bottom edge slamming into the ground at almost unbelievable speeds, then the top flipped forward and hit the ground, before falling back again the other way and settling with the screen on the ground. I don't know if that makes sense without the visual, but I can't bring myself to post the video that I haven't even seen. I'm sorry for that.

They said there was no way that I should have been able to get Rosebud out from under it before the full weight settled on top of her, even as close as I was.

But I did.

That is the one thing about the whole Incident that I am absolutely sure I am remembering correctly. It knocked her down and flipped over her, but I had her out before the weight settled.

They helped me. The spirits of our loved ones. When I remember The Incident, I can almost feel them throw me across the room. I am absolutely sure they were there.

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After our unsuccessful nap at the Family House, Husband and I headed back to the hospital. As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw Ameleah, car seat in hand, heading toward the front door. She saw us and waited by the entrance, where Husband dropped me off before going to find a parking space. When she hugged me, I felt the tears try to come, but I blinked them away for a few minutes.

We walked up to the waiting room and sat in the chairs, talking, while Ameleah fed baby C. While he was eating, Kevin and Joni arrived back at the hospital from our house. When baby C was full, he stayed with Joni while Ameleah and I went into the PICU. My MIL had been with Rosebud while I was gone, but she left to get something to eat.

I'm not going to lie. It was HARD to take my friend into that room where my baby -- my baby -- was lying, hooked up to machines, tubes down her throat, IVs all over the place (she actually got a pressure sore on the top of her foot from one of them), sedated. We cried together, tried to comfort each other.

Sometimes it is hard to feel comforted. But it helped, having her visit. It was a tangible reminder of the many people praying for us, for our baby girl.

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11:42 pm:
"She has had a good day. Still on ventilator, but oxygen level and pressure levels are lower, which means she is able to stay stable with less help. Her heart function is nearly normal and the cardiologist was all smiles about her latest test. Neurosurgeon is not seeing anything that would point to a lasting brain injury. IF (still a big if) everything tomorrow goes as well as today, she may be able to wean off her heart medication tomorrow and *possibly hopefully* off the ventilator over the weekend. She is also now on a feeding tube of my pumped breastmilk. I've managed to pump over 50 ounces in the last two days (awesome for a mom of a baby this old...nobody can believe how much I've got)."

This day was the first time we saw the neurosurgeon. It wasn't the most pleasant encounter. He sent us out of the room when he came to examine her. I'm still not sure why. I wish I'd been more vocal. I wish I'd asked why he didn't want us to say, and if there wasn't a good reason, informed him that I would, in fact, be staying, because I was (am) her mother. But I was too tired to advocate for our family. I let him push me out of the room. I regret this. If there were some good reason for us to not be there, of course we would have left. But I get the impression that it was probably more for his own comfort. :/ And that kind of makes me really mad, even now, to think about.

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Another sleepless night spent at Rosebud's side, hoping for a better day tomorrow.

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A few pictures from Thursday.

 With all the wires and tubes.

My poor little swollen sweetheart. It was so hard to see her this way. See her eyelids? 

I kissed her often. I couldn't do much more to help her, so I just had to love her a lot. 

That IV port in her foot gave her a pressure sore. She has a scar the size of one of my pinky fingernails. 

Swollen. It was awful.

Miracle, Part 5: Wednesday

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 5 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. 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.

Due to the emotional difficulty, I never did get everything written down in journal format at the time. I carried a journal with me through our entire hospital stay, but somehow I just couldn't bring myself to open it. I do regret that, in some ways. Parts 1-4 of this series, which were (mostly) written shortly after the events, are presented in a present-tense format. The rest of the series will be composed of (1) my facebook status updates and comments from the time of the events, and (2) my current commentary for filling in details, emotions, etc. 

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Day 2: March 13, 2013

Posted in group, 11:14 am: "[Things are] not great. She's one of the sickest in the PICU here. We are still cautiously optimistic and they are taking good care of her. Continued prayers appreciated!"


What I didn't say:

I didn't say that Stephanie, our nurse, spent the night with her portable computer pulled up in the doorway of Rosebud's PICU room. She had no other patients assigned to her that night. Rosebud needed her entire focus. I was also told that, if a room became available, Rosebud would be moved closer to the nurses' station (she was in the corner room), so more nurses would be more readily available if needed.

I didn't say that Rosebud spent the night immediately following The Incident in a crib...for the first time in her life. She seemed dazed and confused and "out of it" much of the time. They had her on oxygen assistance, but I could tell she still struggled to breathe. Occasionally she would "snap awake," for lack of a better phrase, because she wasn't really sleeping. When this happened, she thrashed around looking for me. I could tell she definitely recognized me. The nurse commented on it, too. She kept trying to move her body to get into my arms, but her movements were uncoordinated. I spent the night in a chair beside her crib, stroking her little arms, patting her tummy, kissing her fingers, trying desperately to communicate my love and sorrow...and hope. I didn't sleep.

I didn't say that I tried to hold her a few times, but she got too agitated when I did. I didn't say that we made the decision that I wouldn't hold her until she was more stable. I didn't say that this broke my heart.

I didn't say that her neurological state seemed to improve over night, but that I watched her breathing become more and more labored.

I didn't say that I had to leave the room in the morning, right around shift change (new nurse: Virginie), so that they could do a chest x-ray. I didn't say that I collapsed in the hallway just outside her room, by the nurses' station, and sobbed. The other Stephanie, the one who brought me water when we arrived, came and put her arms around me and cried with me. After a moment, while they were still working on Rosebud, I left to tell Husband what was going on, to ask him to come to her room with me.

I didn't say what went through my mind a few minutes later when I tried to go back in, and they wouldn't let me into the PICU. Instead, the chaplain was there, and he's the one that told me...

I didn't say how it felt when he told me that she had needed to be sedated and intubated (a tube down her throat to her lungs, and a ventilator breathing for her) to allow her body to rest and heal. I ran to Husband, sure that our girl was dying and we wouldn't even get to see her until after she was gone. I didn't want it to end like this! Everything was just so surreal. The chaplain was wonderful. He explained things to us and prayed with us and helped us talk through it.

I didn't say that I couldn't take it anymore and took off running down the hallway, just in my socks. I didn't say that we walked laps up and down that hallway, talking, praying, crying, until they let us back in to see her.

I didn't say that she had another CT scan that morning, and that it showed that the bleeding on her brain was resolving, slowly. I didn't say that I was scared to hope that this was a positive sign.

I didn't say what it is like to be sure that your baby isn't going to live, and to have to make peace with that potentiality.

I didn't say that I knew -- I KNEW -- that it was going to be okay, somehow, no matter what happened.

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Husband and I dealt with this crisis in two very different ways. I had to be with her at almost all times. It was agony to be away, but sometimes I had to take a moment of distance so I wouldn't scream. Husband, conversely, could only be with her for a few moments at a time. He needed to be near -- in the waiting room, usually -- but he couldn't stand to see her that way. His feelings of responsibility for her condition were so strong.

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By the end of the day on Wednesday, my mom and Husband's parents had arrived to help support us, along with Husband's brother's family. My dad was still there, too. We made the decision that my parents would take Jeric home with them for a few days. My in-laws planned to both stay that night, if I remember correctly, and then my father-in-law would head off on a business trip while my mother-in-law stayed a few more days. Kevin and Joni decided they'd stay the night at a hotel, and that Joni's mom would come pick the kids up on Thursday for a few days so they could be at the hospital with us.

My father-in-law had called Kevin after lunch on Wednesday and told him what had happened. He immediately went home and they packed up and drove the 3.5 hours to the hospital. Joni had been in the middle of starting dinner prep and had onions cooking on the stove. She turned the stove off, but in her haste decided to just worry about the onions when she got back. The next week after returning home, she sent me this picture of the dried-up onions (I include it here for comic relief):

Other visitors in the first day or so included my aunt, my cousin, and two of his daughters. My cousin's family lived in a neighboring town, and my aunt had been down visiting. We also had a couple of Husband's coworkers stop by with a care package and snacks, and an envelope with a collection they had taken up at work. Words cannot express my gratitude for the goodness of others in our time of difficulty.

One of the hospital's social workers came to see us and let us know that there was a home nearby for families of hospital patients -- like a Ronald McDonald House, but locally owned and operated. Husband called right away and got us on the waiting list for that night. When they called later and let us know they had room for us, Husband and his dad headed over to get us checked in. Meanwhile, my parents took Jeric to Walmart to get him some clothes (because he was still in the same pajamas from the night before, and no shoes). They also brought a few essentials for me and Husband because we were going to be at the hospital for the long haul: a couple of t-shirts to change into, extra socks, towels, toothbrushes and toothpaste, deodorant...

In the afternoon we went to the Family House and showered and tried to nap for a little while (I couldn't), then back to her side. My in-laws slept at the Family House that night. I wasn't leaving my baby, and Husband wasn't willing to leave the hospital without me.

I thought my heart would break when Jeric left with my parents.

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At some point on Wednesday, we were visited in PICU by a trauma specialist / pediatrician, Dr. ME. She took Husband and I, separately, into another room and took our statements and exhaustive medical history. She was also a young mom, and very kind. It was helpful to talk through what had happened in order to begin to process it all. At first, I thought she was someone from CPS and that she was going to take my children away from me, that she was going to decide that I was a neglectful, unfit mother and that it was all my fault. But she shared with me that she wasn't perfect, either, and that there would doubtless things in her house that would pose a hazard to her 9-month-old son, who was just beginning to be mobile (she is not the only doctor in that hospital who worked with our Rosebud who came to me at some point and said that they had gone home and checked all their furniture and bolted everything to the walls). She told me that she was very interesting in studying things like, "Well, if we have this much force from such-an-angle/height, and the person is so tall and so heavy, what kinds of trauma does that cause? What kind of force does is take to cause X injury?" (To learn these things about Rosebud's accident, she sent some people--detectives, actually--to our house the next day to weigh/measure the tv and dresser that fell, and also filed a consumer hazard report on the tv. Kevin and Joni were at our home when they came.) Dr. ME came and checked on us several times after that, while we were in the PICU.

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Sometime in the morning they brought me a breast pump and the bottles and tubes and everything to use with it. When I first sat down to pump, it had been about twelve hours since Rosebud had last eaten. I pumped 18 ounces. After that, I spent a significant portion of every day with my pump. No one could believe that my baby was 13 months old, and I was still getting around 30 ounces a day. It went into the freezer for future use. I also sent Husband to get me some supplements to help me keep my supply up. I had high hopes of re-establishing breastfeeding once Rosebud was stable enough.

I don't remember eating much, if anything, all day.

I still didn't sleep.

Miracle, Part 4: The first night

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!

Miracle, Part 3: Admission

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 3 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. 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 12, 2013

10:00 pm

I am in a car. I still can't get in touch with Husband. I have no idea what shape our baby girl is in. A part of me fully expects to arrive at the hospital to the news that she didn't make it through the helicopter ride to the emergency room. Or, at the very least, that she is in surgery with catastrophic injuries.

I borrow Husband's supervisor's cell phone and am able to get the hospital phone operator on the line. I explain the situation and my call is transferred...to the chaplain. My stomach fills with lead.

I know from my psychology courses that it is standard procedure for a social worker or a chaplain to be the liaison between a trauma victim's family and the hospital staff and doctors. Logically, I know that I am talking to the chaplain for this reason, but my mother heart believes it is because I've lost my baby and it's the chaplain's job to tell me.

I beg for details on Rosebud's condition.

The chaplain tells me he doesn't know much, but that a CT scan revealed that there is bleeding on her brain. Swelling is a big concern, and they will be monitoring carefully for that. She is still breathing on her own but with help from an oxygen mask. They will know more in 48 hours. 

Husband and Jeric are at the hospital, along Husband's direct supervisor, who happened to be in the area that evening.

They tell me how to find their private waiting room when I arrive.

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10:30 pm

I am finally reunited with my husband and son. Husband has not been allowed to see Rosebud yet. We don't want Jeric to see her. Husband did speak with the ER doctor who ordered the CT scan, and was told that, in addition to the brain bleed I'd been told about, she had a skull fracture. We are all in panic mode. Jeric is a trooper. He is handling things better than I am.

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11:30 pm

I am allowed back into the ER to see Rosebud. She doesn't look any different than the last time I saw her, in the ambulance, except that now she has several IVs instead of just one. And she is less responsive because she is somewhat sedated.

The doctor is in the room when I go in, but a different doctor than the one that Husband talked to. This is the doctor in charge in the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit), where Rosebud will be transferred in the next few hours. She tells me about the brain bleed, risk of swelling and what that would mean, and that we'll know more in a couple of days. I mention that the other doctor said something about a skull fracture, but this doctor says she didn't see any evidence on the CT scan. She hopes that we will soon begin to see indications of what is going on neurologically.

I sit with Rosebud for a few minutes. I stroke her poor little body. (She is naked except for a diaper they put on her. She had been wearing one of her cute yellow cloth diapers, but it is gone now, as is the t-shirt she was wearing. I don't care if I ever see them again.) I talk to her, pray for her. I tell her how sorry I am. I beg her to stay with me, to come back and be the same girl again. I feel such guilt. It is my fault this happened. It is all my fault.

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11:50 pm

I return to our waiting room to sit with Jeric so that Husband can go see Rosebud. But they aren't there. I look around for them, then find the chaplain to ask if he had seen them. He goes looking, but can't find them anywhere.

I open Husband's laptop and log on to a private facebook group to post the following message at 11:58pm:

PRAYERS PLEASE.

My daughter had an accident this evening and is in the hospital with some bleeding on her brain. No swelling yet but we'll know better in 48 hours. In the meantime, all of you please pray for her healing, the hands and minds of the doctors, and the faith we'll need to get through this. Please.

Within moments there are several comments to that effect. I can already feel the calming influence of those prayers.

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March 13, 2013

12:15 am

A security guard finds me. I am needed back in the ER in Rosebud's room. I panic. Are they losing her?! I am sure they are.

As I approach the room, I am met by the chaplain. He tells me it is okay. Rosebud seemed more aware and was moving around and they thought I would like to see her.

I enter her room. She is "sleeping" again (it seems like something between asleep and unconscious). I hold her hand.

She vomits a little. It is blood-tinged. They say there are contusions on her lungs, and that is where the blood is coming from.

In a few minutes, she seems to sort of snap out of it. She squeezes my finger. She is looking around. She sees me! She knows me!

"Mamamamamamamama," she says. She reaches for me.

I look at the nurse. "Please, can I hold her? Is she stable enough?"

He helps me get her situated. She settles into my arms. I am sitting on her gurney bed. She vomits again. There are too many wires. But she is calm, and she knows me!

I still don't know where Husband has gone. They tell me they have put our things into a security locker and we can get them out later.

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12:45 am

They have a room in the PICU all ready for my girl. I am still holding her. She is still sleeping, but more soundly. So they push us both up to the PICU, together. I hope someone will find Husband and tell him where we've gone. 

Miracle, Part 2: Emergency

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 2 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. 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 12, 2013

8:08 pm

I have talked to Husband. I put on some shoes and grab my diaper bag, turn on the porch light, and open the door. I put Rosebud on the floor by the couch. I am still helping her breathe. She is still not responsive. I am so worried. I am still crying, still praying aloud.

I call my mom, and yell at her to just pray. My sister is with her; she calls my dad. They are all praying. My mom tries to keep me calm. I am still breathing with Rosebud.

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8:11 pm

Husband is home. He takes one look at Rosebud and says get in the car and call 911, we are going to meet the ambulance. I hang up the phone with my mom, I call 911. I am still breathing with Rosebud. We get to the foot of our road (about a mile down the mountain). I see emergency lights rounding the corner of the road ahead. I say to the operator, "This is us. I repeat this is us, tell the first responder to stop. I see the lights."

I hand my baby, my precious girl, to the first responder, who initiates oxygen support. The ambulance arrives moments later.

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8:20 pm

They are still trying to stabilize her. I am more calm. Husband is with Jeric, but I am in the ambulance. She is responding to my voice.

She is responding.

Her breaths are too fast, too shallow, too weak. She is only looking off to her left, and her neck seems stiff in that direction. But when I go to her right side and speak, she turns her head to look at me.

She recognizes me. Save my baby, Father in Heaven, please save my baby. I know the situation is still dire. I know I might still lose her.

I never stop praying.

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8:30 pm

I am in the ambulance. We are driving, I believe, to a hospital over an hour away that is equipped to deal with my daughter's condition. Husband takes my phone and Jeric, and they will follow after returning Husband's work keys. Everything is surreal.

This can't be happening.

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8:40 pm

We are in route. The EMTs decide to call a helicopter, instead. I can't go with her. I must wait at the local hospital for a ride.

I can't get in touch with Husband. My phone's battery died as soon as I gave it to him, so though I call him over and over, he never answers. He doesn't know to pick me up.

Rosebud is in shock. I think I am too. She is breathing well enough with just an oxygen mask, though she is still gasping, and she is somewhat responsive, but her sugar is way too high, she is way too cold, way too pale, and she is still looking off to the left side.

I spend the ride talking to her. I sing to her (I Am A Child of God, her favorite song since birth). I pray constantly, whispering the words.

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9:00 pm

We are waiting for the helicopter. We wait so long I wonder why they didn't just drive, we probably could have gotten there more quickly. A kind EMT calls the on-call chaplain, who arrives just as they are loading my baby onto the helicopter.

I still can't get Husband to answer the phone. I don't realize it is dead.

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9:20 pm

I scream as they take her away. I don't want my baby out of my sight.

Part of me doesn't expect to see her alive again.

I miss her smile, her laugh, her vibrant personality.

The chaplain helps, as much as he can. Heavenly Father, bless all the chaplains.

We go inside the emergency room and find a quiet corner where I talk. I talk and talk and cry and cry and pray. The chaplain prays with me. I call my mom again, I tell her what I know. One of the kind EMTs takes the initiative to get a phone number to the supervisors at Husband's work. One of them tells me that Husband has already gone, and it has been long enough that I know he didn't get my message, he is on his way to the bigger hospital. One of the other supervisors volunteers to give me a ride. The Spirit tells me it is okay to trust him.

The chaplain stays with me until it is time for me to leave.

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9:38pm

This is the arrival time listed on Rosebud's hospital records.

The next day, one of the emergency room nurses tells me he had to leave the room to cry because he was so worried about this baby. She is in very, very serious condition.

Miracle, Part 1: The Accident

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 1 of the series in which I relate the story of the injury, our subsequent 4-week hospital stay, and the ongoing recovery process. 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 12, 2013

7:30 pm

Husband is at work, as usual. It is time for the kids to get ready for bed. We gather in the living room to read the scriptures together, as we do each night. At ages 3 and 1, they don't have very long attention spans, so we only read 5-10 verses a night. It is enough.

We read, then we kneel together to pray before bed. Jeric prays. Rosebud sits on my lap and folds her little arms, something she learned to do not many days ago. I am so proud of my little ones. My heart is full.

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8:00 pm

We go into Jeric's room to get ready for bed. Rosebud is playing with the toys on the shelves while I help her brother brush his teeth. He gets his pajamas and his overnight pull-up out of the drawer. He does not shut the drawer, I think. Rosebud sees the pull-ups in the drawer and kneels beside it, playing in-and-out. I help him put on the pull-up. As he reaches for his pajamas, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I am too far away. I scream.

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8:02pm

I dive toward my baby girl, my only instinct to save her. In retrospect, I understand that she has used the still-open drawer as a lever to help herself into a standing position. I don't know why she needed the assistance. She has been able to stand from the floor without using her hands for months. My brain struggles to catch up with what is happening. It is a small two-drawer bedside table, and it topples forward. But the real danger is the television -- one that we were planning to give away. It has never been plugged in. We put it on the table, and believe it is stable. We shake it, try to move it, every time we are in the room. It doesn't move. We believe it is safe.

We are wrong.

It was secure, within its center of gravity. But we failed. We failed our baby. We overlooked one thing: What happens when the drawer is pulled out, what happens when downward pressure is put on the drawer? It falls.

And that is what happened to my precious girl, just thirteen months old, because I was too stupid to realize the danger.

I knew it wasn't the best idea to have it there, but I told myself it was only a couple of weeks. I told myself I had tested it. I told myself that if I couldn't pull it down, there was no way that one of my kids could.

But I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I am too far away. I scream. It falls; Rosebud is knocked down. I dive. It flips over her, and I pull her out before the full weight settles on her.

I am crying. "No, no, no no no no no no nononononononono. NOOO!"

She seems surprised. She cries out, weakly.

Then she goes limp. She turns blue. She is not breathing.

My heart breaks.

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8:03pm

I need an ambulance. Where is my phone? Jeric is scared. I am screaming. I don't know where my phone is. I yell to J-eric that it's going to be okay help me find my phone help me help me, Father don't let my baby die, I've killed my baby, I'm so sorry, please help me, help me, help me.

My phone is nowhere to be found. I run out the back door, still carrying my baby girl, who is still not breathing. I run across the yard to the neighbor's house, but halfway there I see that their car is not in front, so I scream HELP and hope someone will come outside from another house. No one does.

I am praying, hysterically praying, out loud, with every bit of faith I can muster.

Something tells me where my phone is. It is in my bedroom, plugged into the wall.

I run back inside. Jeric is crying, what is going on? I tell him Rosebud is hurt, I tell him she needs a doctor to help her, I tell him it is going to be okay.

I believe I am lying. I believe she is gone.

I begin to trip and almost drop her as I cross the yard, but I catch her just in time. I am so lost. My brain is sluggish, and so is time.

I am praying as I run: Father, I know you can save her, please save my baby, I am so sorry, I was so stupid, please don't take my baby, she is so perfect, we need her so much, please don't take her, please save my baby, I have faith that you can heal her, please heal her, please....

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8:04pm

I have reached my bedroom. I hit the power button on my phone. My baby still isn't breathing.

CPR!!! DO CPR!!! IT ISN'T TOO LATE!!! This thought explodes in my brain.

I am not trained in CPR. The last time I practiced on a dummy was at least 10 years ago, at summer church camp. I have never practiced on an infant/child dummy, only the adult. But, I remember to tilt her head to open her airway. I remember that on children you only use two fingers to do compressions. I know that the compressions need to be pretty quick, because her heart beats at over 100bpm. I remember to cover both mouth and nose with my mouth when I do breaths.

I don't even think to listen to her chest to see if her heart is beating. I begin compressions as I am dialing 911 with the phone on the floor beside me. I breathe for my daughter. I begin a second set of compressions as the 911 operator answers. I beg him to send an ambulance, I tell him our address, our daughter was in an accident, she is only 13 months, please help us, I am doing CPR, we need an ambulance now.

I know it will be too late. The ambulance dispatch is nearly 20 minutes from our house.

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8:05pm

I breathe for her again as the call goes dead. I don't know if the operator understood the message. I finally think to listen to her chest. Her heart is beating! It is a miracle! She still isn't breathing. I continue to breathe for her.

She gasps. Another miracle! I call 911 back to make sure an ambulance is on the way. They are coming!

I can tell she isn't breathing well enough, so I continue to assist. I wait until she initiates a breath (she is breathing quickly, too quickly) and then I add my air to hers. She is not responsive.

Jeric has been watching. He is naked other than his pull-up. I tell him to go get some clothes and get dressed. He doesn't hesitate. I am so proud of him.

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8:06pm

Jeric returns. I don't know how to tell Husband what has happened. He is without a phone, as we believe Rosebud threw his in the trash 10 days ago...but we didn't realize it until the trash had been taken to the dump. I ask Jeric to find my nook tablet, so I can send a message to Daddy. Again, he obeys instantly.

I send the message: "Hospital [Rosebud] quick. Ambulance." I pray he sees it quickly. Then I remember, I have his co-worker's cell number. I call Joe's number. Husband answers.

A miracle, again. Several of them had been having dinner together. Dinner hour is supposed to be over at 8pm, and Husband had almost left to go back to work, had actually started moving toward the door...but someone said something that drew him back into the conversation. They are all still together when the phone starts ringing. Joe hands the phone to Husband. And Husband's world shatters. He tells me later that he threw down the phone and ran out the door.

It usually takes 7-8 minutes to drive home. He is here in 5 or less.

Miracle: Index

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 the Index 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. 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.

Part 1: The Accident

Part 2: Emergency

Part 3: Admission

Part 4: The First Night

Part 5: Wednesday

Part 6: Thursday

Part 7: Friday

Other snow pictures

It continued snowing most of the day yesterday; by the end of the day, we around 2 inches, maybe a bit more. Overnight, we accumulated at least another inch. Behold, actual snow that stuck around longer than an hour:

Yesterday afternoon, Husband and Jeric went out and built a small snowman on a big rock in our front yard:

This morning we got the news that church had been cancelled except for the first hour, but we still didn't feel safe to go (it's a 40-minute drive). It's been hovering around 30 degrees all morning, so nothing has melted yet, but my computer says the high for the day is 40, so it might not stick around too much longer! We shall see...

Winter!

The most snow we've had all winter long, and it's all fallen in the last hour or so. It's almost nothing, but Jeric is quite excited! We might have to go out and play a bit later on. This picture is taken looking out my back door toward my landlord's house.

Girly

When Rosebud was a teeny baby, I used to always (okay, frequently) put a headband with a bow on her.

Exhibit A:

There came a time, though, when she hit about eight or nine months old, that she always removed the headband, so I gradually stopped using them as much.

Exhibit B:

This morning, she saw the headbands and started reaching for them, so I got one and put it on her. I said, "Soooo pretty! You are such a pretty girl!"

She left it on her head for a few minutes, then started tugging at it. When she succeeded at pulling it off, she brought it to me and started gesturing like crazy and making urgent little baby sounds, like fix-it-fix-it-fix-it!!

So I put it back on her. Her face broke out in this huge smile and she bounced up and down excitedly. I said, "Soooo pretty!" again and she just lapped it up.

A few minutes later we repeated the whole process again.

And then again a few minutes after that.

So I had to take a picture.

Exhibit C:

(And of course Brother had to join in, too. :) I'm pretty thrilled that I got an actual picture of him smiling instead of grimacing!)



*Yes, my daughter is indeed wearing the same footy pajamas she was wearing last night. Sometimes I just let her keep wearing the same thing for a day or two longer...if it's still clean and we aren't going anywhere. Go ahead and judge me. :)

Helper

My boy is such a good helper. Tonight after dinner I needed to work on some YW stuff, so I strapped Rosebud into the high chair and gave her some Rice Krispies to snack on. I went back to my room to use the computer. A few minutes later, Jeric came in and said, "Mommy, I gave Rosebud too much Rice Krispies." This is what I found:

Just a few too many, really. She'll probably eat them all. At least the ones that she doesn't drop on the floor. Which she will then eat if I don't manage to vacuum them up before I get her down.

Also, he just asked me this question: "Mommy, why do people have bums?" Umm.... Not quite sure how to answer that one!

Come, Follow Me: Learning Outline "Poll"

**Edited to add documents for Aaronic Priesthood and Sunday School programs, in addition to Young Women. There are three links to the three documents at the bottom of this page.

Recently, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints updated the learning curriculum for the Sunday School, Young Men, and Young Women programs. Instead of having a prepared manual with step-by-step lessons that are taught in order, each month of the year has a specific topic, and "learning outlines" are provided on that topic. There are more learning outlines than there are weeks in a month, so it is up to the leaders and the youth in each unit to decide which outlines will be most beneficial and instructive for them, individually. The learning outlines are much more flexible and discussion-driven than the old manual lessons.

I am one of the Young Women leaders in my ward (congregation, for any non-Mormons who are still reading this post :)). I decided it would be helpful to create a document to facilitate the discussion between youth and adult leaders about which learning outlines should be used for each week's lesson. I wanted to share it for any other YW leaders who are interested in using it.

The document I have embedded in this post has one page for each month, with each page having two copies of the "poll" I created for that month's lessons, and I'll just make enough copies for all my YW. In the middle, I have listed the titles (I love that they are all questions!) of the learning outlines for the month. On the left, I ask that the YW rank to outlines in order of how interested they are in learning about the answer to that specific question. On the right, I have asked that they indicated if they would be willing to help teach all or part of each lesson. Obviously, if they don't feel comfortable at all, they can just leave that space blank. :)

(I doubt that most of them will be comfortable teaching at all in the beginning, but I hope that as the year progresses and they become more comfortable with how the program works, they will be more willing to step out of their comfort zones and teach. I know that I will never forget when Sister Z, my Beehive Advisor, let me teach the lesson one week! It was quite the learning experience for me and has informed my approach to teaching ever since. I'm sure I was a horrible teacher at age 12, but I am so appreciative of her willingness to let me try. Now, until the young women are ready to teach, whenever I teach the lesson, I give each YW an assignment of something to think about and share in class. I might share a scripture or quotation and ask her to take a few minutes to answer a question I ask about it, or I might ask her to share a personal experience she has had with one of the principles we are discussing. As the YW adjust to the new system and are willing to teach, we as leaders will be able to mentor them in their preparations. The possibilities and opportunities for the girls make me very excited!)

Finally, at the bottom, I ask if the YW have any of their own questions about the topic for the month, or about anything Gospel- or Church-related. They are invited to list those questions on the back of the page. 

Toward the end of each month, I will print off copies of the next month's topics and take them to class and activities for the YW to fill out. I will be taking the poll for February to church tomorrow (the last week of January) and to our activity on Wednesday night. Once the YW have all filled it out, we will have a better idea of where to focus our teaching for the month of February.

Feel free to share this document with anyone you think might be able to use it!


Below are three links, one each for the YW, AP, and SS programs. Each document contains the correct learning outline options for each of the different programs.


Young Women

Aaronic Priesthood

Youth Sunday School

Funnies

One of these days I'll get around to telling you about October, November, December, and now January (the month of never-ending sickness), but for tonight I have a few funny stories to share about my kiddos.


(1) The other night I caught Rosebud in the process of "helping" put the trash in the trashcan, except the "trash" she was throwing away consisted of her shoes and a couple of toys. Hope she hasn't thrown away something without me noticing...

(2) I couldn't find my phone tonight. After a facebook SOS ("call me, please!"), I heard my phone ringing and was finally able to find my phone under a pile of towels that Rosebud generously unfolded for me while I was working on dinner. So helpful, that girl. Not only did she "help" with laundry, she hid  my phone!

(3) I read two stories to Jeric each night just before I tuck him into bed. Call me a bad mom, but if he is being especially difficult about bedtime preparations, I tell him he will lose a story. That gets him motivated! Well, he's outsmarted me, because tonight it was his turn to say family prayer and he specifically prayed that he would get two stories. (We read scriptures and say prayer before getting ready for bed.) Darn. Now I don't have any ammo.

(4) Jeric woke up from his nap today (I GOT HIM TO START TAKING NAPS AGAIN AFTER A YEAR OF ALMOST NO NAPS!!!!) requesting to make chocolate chips cookies. I was only too happy to oblige him. And  while they baked, we played an alphabet game that involved lots of running around. Not really a funny story, but a good afternoon.

(5) Yesterday Jeric said to me, "Moving your body is so good for you." Well, yes, but I have no idea where he learned that actual phrase. But we made a list of ways we can move our body and made a goal to do them every day. (Not that we don't already, but he was so excited about it...)

September 2012

Sunday, September 2 was Jeric's third birthday. My parents and sister came down on the 1st and we celebrated that night (they stayed overnight and went to the first hour of church with us the next morning, but had to be home by 4pm so didn't get to celebrate on his actual birthday). Jeric made the following demands for his birthday:

-A blue chocolate cake.
-Blue ice cream.
-Balloons.
-A robot.

I am pleased to announce that all of these expectations were met! A resounding success, I would say.

Of course, though, I only took video...I think my dad and sister might have some photos on their phones, which I will try to get from them soon. [Incidentally, I also just found a hidden folder on my computer that contains more than a few pictures that I nearly forgot about, and which belong with months that I've already posted about. So you might be getting some pictures-only posts in the next month or so.]

We took the easy route on the cake and got a small round cake (chocolate cake with blue frosting, per list of demands) from Wal-Mart. Jeric LOVED being sung to and blowing out candles. We ended up doing it four days in a row, until the cake was gone. That was a lot of fun.

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Wednesday, September 5 was Husband's birthday (27) (and also my brother Daniel's -- 23). Poor guy was at school or work all day. I really wanted to surprise him with a cake, but OF COURSE I couldn't find a recipe that included only items I already had at the house (I had no car all that week). Wife fail. I felt awful.
He actually didn't really care; he's not big on sweets and had said I didn't need to worry about baking him a cake.

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Rosebud learned to climb on things (I'm sure she'd have been climbing stairs at this point if we had any stairs):

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Some other cute pictures of the girl:

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My mom, dad, and sister came down to visit us on the 29th of September. (Mostly because my mom couldn't stand the thought of not seeing her only grandbabies until Thanksgiving...) They happened to come on the day of a local heritage festival held in a field at Husband's university, so we headed over to check it out. After we ate fried food and enjoyed some gospel bluegrass (it was awesome, truly), Jeric got to eat his very own BLUE snow cone. Behold:

Other pictures from that outing:

And finally, a funny story.

As we were headed out to the car, we passed a row of brightly-colored port-a-potties. Jeric was riding on my dad's shoulders, I was wearing Rosebud in the Ergo, Anna and my mom had stopped to look at some cute little piglets, and Husband wasn't with us because he was working at the Chemistry Club drink booth. Jeric saw the port-a-potties, and you can imagine that they were a curious sight for a three-year-old.

Jeric: Grandpa. What are those?
Grandpa: Those are potties.
Jeric: I need to go potty.
[Insert maniacal laughter here.]
Grandpa: ...Are you sure?
Jeric: Yep.

So off to the port-a-potty they went. My dad intentionally chose one of the handicap-sized ones (more room to move; besides, it also happened to be blue). A moment later, they came back out and went in a different one. Again, they exited too quickly for any business to have been completed. Jeric had this look of consternation on his little face, and my dad's expression was of mingled horror and amusement.

Apparently, when they went into the first port-a-potty, my dad told Jeric not to touch anything ("Why?") before they approached the seat. He said Jeric kind of looked in (I called my dad to refresh my memory of this story, and he couldn't stop laughing when he thought of the expression on Jeric's face at this point) and then decided it was too dirty and he wanted to try a different potty. So they did, but Jeric decided he really didn't need to go potty, after all!

August 2012 - Everything else

WARNING: August was a busy, busy month; this post is quite long! If you don't want to read it all, scroll and look at pictures. There is also a summary of the month at the bottom of the post.

I have already posted about what the kids and I were doing for the first few days of August. To tell the story of the rest of August, I need to back up a bit.

As I shared before, at the end of May, Husband lost his job. The day that he learned this would be happening, I started looking for a new job for him online. The local newspaper in the city where he'd be going to school in the fall just happened to post all the classified ads online, so that was helpful. I had been looking occasionally up to this point, but now I meant business! The very day that he learned he'd only be able to finish out the week at his old job, I checked the classifieds and there were two postings for full-time, 2nd shift maintenance jobs on the campus of the university he'd be attending. When he got home the next morning (remember, he was working night shift at the time), I told him about these jobs and he sat down and filled out the online application, and together we wrote an awesome cover letter to go with it (we could upload one and submit it with the application). 

And then weeks went by and we heard nothing. The listings disappeared from the classified ads, and we continued to look for employment elsewhere, believing the jobs had gone to someone else. Though he put in many applications, we heard nothing from anyone. Not a single call for an interview. We wondered if the fact that the address he listed was hurting his chances of employment, because we were living almost 3 hours away and thought that employers might see that and disregard his application because of it. (We did make reference on each application to the fact that we'd be moving as soon as he found employment, though.) It was a frustrating time. 

At the beginning of July (!), Husband received a phone call one evening while we were visiting at my parents' home. It was from the university's housekeeping department, and they asked him to come down the following week for an interview. We had thought the positions were already filled, but apparently they just took forever to go through the applications and decide who to invite for interviews. We were cautiously hopeful. He thought the interview went well, and was told that they had another week of interviews for the two open positions, and they'd be back in contact after the interviews were complete. 

A full ten days following the interview, we finally got a phone call! They were notifying us that they were going to call references that day, and that Husband should get in touch with those people he had listed on his application. Shortly thereafter, I received the following phone call from a friend of ours, who is a former coworker of Husband's and one of his references: 

Him: So, I just got a phone call from the housekeeping department at [the university]. They wanted to know what sort of worker [name] is, and I felt like I should probably tell the truth, so I went ahead and said a whole bunch of good things about him.

Me: GOOD!

Haha.

That evening, the housekeeping supervisor talked with Husband again and asked for permission to run a background check, which she said would probably take a few days and then they'd let him know if he'd be hired or not.

It was almost a week before we heard anything. Then, on July 31, the night before the kids and I left on our trip, he got the call. HIRED. This was such a weight off our shoulders. We knew it would be a difficult year, because his school schedule isn't exactly easy (he's a chemistry major and only has core classes because he completed his associate's degree), and he'd be working M-F from 4pm-12:30am. His class schedule was already put together, and he begins at 8am every day except Thursday and is taking 16 credit hours. So yeah, a bit nuts, but he was just thrilled to know he'd be able to support us, after all. We weren't sure what we were going to do before he got this job.

The next day, the kids and I left for our trip. We got home Sunday evening, and Tuesday afternoon Husband left because his job started the next day (August 8). A couple of weeks before we heard back about the job, we had signed a lease on a place just a couple of miles from campus (total leap of faith; the landlords were nice about the fact that we didn't have the full deposit up front, and allowed us to split the amount in three ways and pay with our first three months of rent). The previous tenant wasn't leaving until the 15th, though, so Husband left for work without knowing where he'd be able to sleep for the next week or so (we ended up moving on the 18th, which was a Saturday). He ended up being able to sleep on his supervisor's couch, though, so all's well that ends well. 

I'd been packing here and there all summer (the books had been boxed up for ages, as had outgrown baby boy and girl clothes, extra towels and bedding, my kitchen stuff...), but I really started packing in earnest after Husband left for his job. My mom came down a couple of days to help, and my mother-in-law kept the kids while my mom and I packed. 

Saturday was the third birthday of our friend Jane (the little girl I used to babysit full-time), so we went to her party and then spent the rest of the weekend and the first part of the next week at my mom and dad's house. Here are some pictures from the party (there are quite a few because my child kept making hilarious faces):

Time for presents. Jeric's crazy face.

Jeric and L watching Jane open presents.

Jeric and L's mom. Miss this lady. :(

The three of them opened the biggest gift together.

What Rosebud did during the party.

L and his big brother K are frightened by the intensity of Jeric's desire for cupcakes.

Jeric singing to Jane. (In the background is part of Jane's mom. I miss her, too.)

Tired and not so excited about cake and ice cream.

From the weekend we spent at mom and dad's:

Rosebud and Nana (that's how Jeric pronounces "Anna" -- we're working on that; he can say it correctly, he just forgets).

The kids and I returned on that Wednesday (the 15th; incidentally the same day that Rosebud's first tooth cut through) to continue packing. My mom helped that day, then came again on Friday to help with the last of the packing. My mother-in-law watched the kids, except when Rosebud was cranky and needed to sleep. She was a bit congested (I think largely because she was cutting her second tooth) and couldn't sleep well unless upright. (My mom brought me my very own Ergo that day! Like the one we borrowed from Joni for our Florida trip. Rosebud spent a good chunk of Friday being carried in it, and she slept in it quite soundly, which was awesome.)

This picture comes from one of the last few days before our move. I didn't have my camera nearby so I grabbed the webcam and took a still, which is why it's blurry.

My parents and my in-laws were all planning to help us move. My dad and my father-in-law both have pickup trucks, and my mom has a van with removable back seats. We planned to borrow a trailer for both trucks, and the kids and I would ride down with my mom in her van, along with a whole bunch of our stuff. Husband was still away working. Because of his work schedule (M-F 4pm-12:30am, as I said above), we discussed that he would get the keys to our place and stay there Friday night (the 17th), then would not make the drive to help move, but would meet us there the following day when we arrived. 

Imagine my surprise when he walked in the door at 1:30am! That crazy man had been planning to surprise me all along! And my in-laws were in on it! :) Originally, he planned to leave at 12:30 after finishing at work, which would have had him arriving around 3:30. But his boss found out about his plans and told him he could work from 2-10:30 instead, so he left at that point and arrived at 1:30. 

I mentioned we meant to have two trailers, but only ended up with one, so it was a good thing Husband came back! My father-in-law took furniture in his truck, and he and my mother-in-law left before the rest of us. My dad filled the bed of his truck and the backseat and front floorboard of his cab, plus he pulled the trailer with most of the furniture. Jeric rode with Grandpa and watched a movie on the portable DVD player. Rosebud and I rode in our car with Husband. I sat in the back with her, so we had the front seat, one side of the back seat, and our (very large) trunk. Because the kids and I didn't have to ride in the van with my mom, she took out both rows of back seats and we packed that thing full! It had at least as much stuff in it as one of the pickups. In the end, we did have to leave a few things to be brought down later (as I write this, most of that has made the trip, but our bookshelves are still at my in-laws' house and I miss those things!) but we fit more than I'd expected. 

It was a long trip, but we made it and had everything well-enough in place that we were able to make a run to the grocery store that evening for perishable foods and other things, like a shower curtain. 

And the rest of August was spent in a whirlwind of unpacking, settling in, and helping Jeric adjust to a new home when he'd just left the only home he could remember and could no longer spend time with his Nene every day. And of course, Husband started school in addition to work, which means that we hardly ever see him during the week. And Little Miss Clever Rosebud started doing this constantly just a couple of days after we moved (she did it for the first time the night before the move):

She'd been doing a sort of swim-crawl (she'd get on hands and knees and kind of throw her chest forward to the floor to move in that direction, then get back up on hands and knees and repeat) since she turned 6 months (instead of just scooting a bit), but figured out how to pull to a stand and cruise along the furniture by 6 1/2 months. She also figured out how to walk while holding our hands about this time. This child just can't sit still!

And that's our August! (It only took me almost two weeks to write this post.)

Summary, if you skipped down:

July 31: Husband receives job offer to work maintenance at the university he'd be attending beginning fall semester. His hours are M-F 4pm-12:30am.

August 1-5: Kids and I on trip to Florida.

August 8: Husband begins his job. Kids and I still at in-laws'; packing begins in earnest with help from my mom and mother-in-law.

August 11: Jane's birthday party, then kids and I head to my parents' for the weekend.

August 15: Return to finish packing by that Saturday. Rosebud cuts her first tooth.

August 18: Husband surprises me at 1:30am by driving back to help with the move after working the 2-10:30pm shift. We get an early start the next day and are all moved in by evening. Thanks to father-in-law for driving his truck, my dad for driving his truck with a trailer (and letting Jeric ride with him), and my mom for driving her packed-to-the-brim van, while Rosebud, Husband, and I rode in our car.

August 20: First day of school for Husband. I begin my life as basically a single mom during the week (though we see Husband a lot over the weekend). Jeric does surprisingly well with the adjustment to his new home, though he misses seeing Nene and Papa almost every day. Rosebud begins pulling to a stand and cruising along the furniture (as well as holding our hands while walking) at the ripe old age of 6 1/2 months.