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.