I stayed in Olivia’s room again last night in an effort to give Ryan a couple of nights of uninterrupted sleep (he slept in the family waiting room so I could get him if we needed him).  Around 10 p.m. they decided to begin weaning her off the sedatives she had been on for six days so that they could switch her to a different sedative that will be easier to manage.

The nurses explained that she would experience withdrawal effects, but I wasn’t prepared for the night ahead of us.  I’ve never seen someone go through withdrawal before, especially not a toddler.  From midnight on we had two nurses constantly in the room, mainly because they had to hold Olivia down so that her ventilator tube wouldn’t come out of her (as well as the various other lines running into her right now).  I slept off and on during the night, but spent a lot of time beside her bed talking to her in an effort to help keep her calm.  The nurses thought she was recognizing my voice (because she would instantly calm down when I would talk to her), but we can’t be sure.

While I was at work today, the hospital staff brought Olivia off sedation for a bit to see how she responded.  Ryan called and told me that not only did she recognize him, but she also said “daddy” before she went back down.  From what I understand, she’ll spend more and more time awake each day as they begin seeing how she does while conscious.  I can’t tell you how relieved we all are to know that she is able to recognize and speak, even if we don’t know her full capabilities quite yet.  I don’t think I need to tell you that we’ve got an actual miracle baby on our hands, one that spoke exactly one week after being submerged in a swimming pool for several minutes.

– — –

I left the hospital at 5:30 a.m. so that I could get a bit of work done at my office before heading to my doctor’s appointment.  My mom came down for the appointment and we were there for a couple of hours.  There really isn’t much to report tonight; I had a lot of tests done that will be reviewed and we’ll go from there.  The doctor indicated a couple of things that she’ll be looking for / at over the next couple of visits.

I had a hard time at the doctor’s office.  Without going into detail, I had to have a couple of exams done that went beyond a typical GYN exam.  I wasn’t expecting those and it was just hard.  I did my best not to cry during the exam, but as soon as I got into my mom’s car, I lost it and couldn’t help it — I was just in a lot of physical pain.  All day since then, all I’ve wanted to do is crawl into my bed and cry.  I know that makes me sound like a wimp, but I just can’t tell you how difficult today’s exams were on both a physical and emotional level.  I could have asked my mom to come in for the exam, but my modesty and embarrassment just wouldn’t let me do it.  And so I just laid there, feeling utterly alone even though I didn’t have to be.

I’m home in my own bed tonight simply because I’m still in so much pain this evening that I didn’t think I could handle a 1.5 hour car ride tonight to get to the hospital to be with Olivia.  I think it is probably best for me to just be here tonight anyway; I don’t have anything left to give tonight.  I’m hurting, quite literally.

Now, for that cry I’ve been waiting for all day.

Update, Monday morning — Olivia and I had a long night. They need to wean her off some of the sedatives she’s been on and switch her to some new sedatives that will allow them to begin waking her up for small amounts of time. They began the process at 10 p.m. last night and she had various withdrawal effects the entire night. I had two nurses with me the whole night, so we got through it fairly well. I left the hospital at 5:30 a.m. and she was still experiencing the withdrawal symptoms.

Original post –

Today, Sunday, has been a hard day.

Last night, Ryan slept in the family waiting room because he needed to get at least one night of uninterrupted sleep; who could blame him? I settled into the chair beside Olivia’s bed a little after midnight and waited to fall asleep. As I was sitting there, I suddenly felt overwhelmed with all kinds of different emotions. It was almost as if, all the sudden, everything hit me.

For the last six days, as I’ve helped care for Olivia, everything else has taken a backseat. I haven’t cried over her, or my diagnosis or being alone. I’ve made myself be stable for the people who need me to be stable. I wash and dry Ryan’s clothes, buy new socks for Olivia’s feet, make Ryan go to the cafeteria to get something to eat. There are so many practical things that I’ve been busy with that it hasn’t been hard to keep my emotions at bay.

But last night, as I sat alone watching Olivia in her bed, I felt everything I’ve been holding back these last few days. I felt scared of my doctor’s appointment tomorrow, angry that I am even having to deal with it. I felt guilty for thinking about myself while Olivia laid in a hospital bed in front of me. And, more than anything, I felt a type of loneliness I’ve never felt before.

We’re not supposed to live in the past, but right or wrong, I know what it feels like to be loved and cared for because I have been in two committed relationships. In other words, I know exactly what I’m missing right now. I can be here for Ryan and Olivia; that I can do. But thinking about tomorrow morning’s doctor appointment? That I feel like I can’t do. And so I laid in the recliner beside Olivia’s hospital bed last night, crying into a pillow so the nurses wouldn’t hear, wishing I had someone to tell how scared I really am.

I know exactly what I’m missing right now. I remember what it’s like to be loved by a man.

– — –

Since Olivia has been sedated, I’ve played a song for her with lyrics that I’ve listened to more times than I can count –

“I know that You are for me, I know that You are for me…”

You Are For Me | Kari Jobe

The thing about pain — emotional, physical and even spiritual — is that it can make you question everything you’ve ever claimed to believe. Last Monday, just hours before Olivia’s accident, I was driving home from work when I suddenly thought about how, as a little girl, I used to play with my baby dolls in the tree house in my best friend’s backyard. I rocked my baby dolls, “fed” them their bottles, wrapped and re-wrapped them in their blankets. I played with baby dolls for years. Years.

As I thought about those years, I instantly began thinking about my current situation, about how I may never have a baby from my own womb. I instantly felt so filled with anger that I couldn’t help but say, through clenched teeth, “That sounds like an act from a cruel, cruel God, if you ask me.”

He hasn’t asked me for my opinion, of course. But I sure wanted to give it to Him, sure wanted Him to know what I’m thinking as I involuntarily clench my fists, grit my teeth and clutch my pillow each night. I am angry with Him, an anger that is white hot and doesn’t even embarrass me. I couldn’t hide it if I tried. I want Him to know how angry I am.

Anger isn’t an emotion I experience a lot, but one thing I’ve learned about myself is that, if I’m feeling anger, there’s usually some other feeling being masked by the anger. It’s true this time, too — underneath all that anger I feel betrayed by Him. Absolutely, completely betrayed.

Betrayal is an awful feeling, whether it comes from the hands of a friend or lover. But to feel betrayed by a God whom you have served for the majority of your life? It can crush your faith, leaving the pieces scattered on the floor with all your broken dreams mixed into the mess. And then the questions begin scrolling through my mind — am I being punished for something? Would I have not been a good enough mother? Why am I not a good enough woman for my body to function correctly?

Tomorrow morning I’ll go to a doctor’s office where a new doctor will look to see if she agrees with what the first doctor found. And I know that she will see the same thing the first doctor saw because I too saw it with my very own eyes. I would love to believe it is no longer there, but the sharp physical pain I’ve felt in my uterus all day today makes it very difficult for me to believe that the cysts will miraculously be gone. Today has hurt, literally. I’ve barely left the chair beside Olivia’s hospital bed for the last 24 hours, partly because I don’t want her to be alone, partly because it hurts less if I stay still.

And I sit here and wonder “Are You for me? Well, are You?” If I truly believe the Bible, then I know He is for me. I’m embarrassed that I am even questioning it; I feel like I should be “stronger” and less filled with doubt, especially since people are watching to see how I’m responding to this. I mean, I have a masters degree in Religion. I worked in full-time vocational ministry for years. I know better than to be thinking this way, than to be wondering if the God I’ve known for years is actually on my side or not. I’m disappointed in myself and embarrassed.

But I’m honest, too.

I hate to interrupt your Saturday evening, but I just thought you might like to know…

… that baby girl just breathed on her own for several minutes!

She remains sedated and we’re going back on the ventilator, but the “test” to see if she could breathe at all on her own was successful!  She had some trouble, but she did breathe for a bit.  She’s not stable enough to breathe continuously, but we’re thrilled to discover that she “remembers” how to breathe even while sedated!

She was sedated throughout the entire test and the ventilator was still inside her just in case it needed to be activated quickly.  Ryan had gone out to get something to eat when they began the test, so I was very happy to have good news for him when he walked back through the door.  We’ve got several nurses in the room as I write this, all checking vitals, drawing blood, etc.  Based on what we just saw, they’ve already told us that she’s not ready (or close) to come off the ventilator, but still, the fact that she could take the breaths at all is remarkable.

I can think of a lot of places I’d like to be on a Saturday night (hello, a date perhaps?).

But I sure can’t think of a place I’d rather be tonight than here.

(I mean, unless it was a really good date.)

(KIDDING.)

(Or am I?)

Baby Olivia was taken into surgery last night around 5 p.m.  I was not able to get to the hospital because, just a few minutes before they took her back, the doctor told Ryan that the surgery would be today at 7:30 a.m.  I decided I would remain in Cleveland to have the event for my college girls and then leave in time to be at the hospital before she was taken to surgery.

After looking at her vitals and some other things, they decided they needed to go ahead with the surgery immediately.  During the surgery, Olivia’s lungs were cleared of the chicken particles as well as quite a bit of mucous.  They were also able to find, for the first time, that her lungs received chemical burns while she was submerged in the swimming pool.  This explains a bit more about her crashes, so we’re thankful to know what we need to focus on now — which will be the burns.

I started to head to Knoxville this morning but then we found out that Olivia’s sisters — Angelina, age seven and Juliana, age four — were both being taken to our local ER by the family they’ve been staying with.  Both girls have been pretty sick this week and, because it hasn’t cleared up, they had to go in.  I’m about to go back over to that hospital to see them for a few minutes before heading back up to be with Olivia.  I’ll arrive in Knoxville this afternoon and plan to remain there until 6:30 a.m. Monday so that Ryan can get out of the ICU room a bit.  As long as Olivia is stable tomorrow morning, I think he’s actually going to try to go to a church service, too.

Since I’ll be with Olivia tonight, all day tomorrow and that night as well, I’m hoping to get a bit caught up with answering some emails.  By the way, please know that your emails have meant the absolute world to me.  I’ve been reading them via my cell phone while I’m up with her in the night since that tends to be the hardest time for me personally.  You have no idea how much your words have meant at 3 a.m.

One question I’m getting a lot is how can people help Olivia and her family.  I began working on that yesterday and will be able to give you some information on Monday about a plan that is going into effect for them.  For now, I needed to mention that we’re unable to receive flowers, balloons, stuffed animals, etc. at the hospital because Olivia is in a pediatric intensive care unit.  I’m so touched that people want to reach out to her that way and really wish we were allowed to have those items in her room, but due to her condition, we can’t.

My sleepover with my college girls went so well last night — maybe I can tell you about that tomorrow if Olivia and I have a peaceful day?  I hope so!

After I wrote last night’s post, I had a hard time falling asleep, even though I was definitely tired.  Maybe I was a bit anxious about the night ahead of us since it seems to be at night that she experiences distress?  It amazes me how quickly she can go from one state to another, from peaceful quiet to her medical alarms blaring.

After the nurse checked her stats around midnight, I turned down the overhead light and began playing some soft music for baby and I.  I sang to her until I fell asleep beside her bed, waking up whenever her machines beeped or a nurse came through the door.  Olivia’s nurses love her already, every last one of them.  But how could they not?

I drove straight to my office this morning and worked from the moment I walked through the doors until the moment I left them just a bit ago.  Tonight I will stay in Cleveland because, before Olivia’s accident, I had invited my college girls to come over for the night.  They — and I — have been looking forward to the sleepover for quite awhile and, with their final exams coming up so soon, I’m afraid that, if I rescheduled it, we might not be able to find another date that would work for them.  I’ve been going back and forth this week about what I should do (and where I should be) and finally decided that, since several of them are graduating this semester, I just can’t take the chance of not being able to celebrate my college girls before they’re gone.  And thus, the sleepover shall go on (and on and on and on… I’m sorry to inform you that college girls don’t go to bed very early, unlike myself who prefers to be in bed by 8 p.m.).

I was really conflicted about what decision to make about tonight because we found out this afternoon that, at some point in the next 24 hours, they will operate on Olivia to attempt to remove the food from her lungs.  The doctor feels like the operation will probably take place tomorrow, so I made the decision to stay here in Cleveland knowing that, if they move it to tonight, I could leave and head to the hospital in the night.  My mom is at the hospital now and is keeping me up to date.

I had mentioned before that Olivia hasn’t had that operation before now because she hasn’t been stable enough for it.  From what I understand, we’re now at a point where the operation absolutely has to happen.  I’ve got tears in my eyes just thinking about it.  When we know more, I will put up a post to tell you as well as update my status on Facebook (you can add me on Facebook to see real-time updates on Olivia’s progress).

And so, tonight will be different — trading the ICU room for a bunch of college girls sleeping on every bed and floor in my house and then back to the ICU.  The bitter with the sweet, the sweet with the bitter.  Sometimes more bitter than sweet.

Please continue praying for baby Olivia.

Friday morning update, 6:15 a.m. — Olivia crashed once during the night and they had to bag her, but she is stable this morning.

Original post –

(This post contains pictures of Olivia in a sedated state. The pictures aren’t graphic, but I wanted to let you know in case you’d rather not view them. – amy beth)

I’ve always loved Thursday evenings more than any other night of the week and tonight is no exception. It’s a quiet night here on the fifth floor and baby Olivia and I are having a lovely evening together while her dad gets a bit of time out of the room. After our eventful night, she was given a blood infusion because her white blood cell count continues to drop. Since the infusion, her fever and blood pressure have improved and I’m hoping they continue to get even better during the night.

Olivia continues to be supported by a ventilator that is providing all of her breathing support at this time. She’s still not stable enough for surgery to remove the food in her lungs and, unfortunately, the food has created a non-infectious pneumonia. We continue to wait for her to become stable enough for the food to be removed. Maybe soon? I hope so.

My day went well. I left the hospital around 6:30 a.m. and headed towards Cleveland for work. One of the most interesting parts of this week has been trying to be in multiple places at once. This is the busiest time of the year for me with my job, so I’m going back and forth between the two cities right now and bringing work with me to the hospital so I can try to stay on top of it while I sit beside her bed.

I wish you could have seen me this morning — I decided to drive home in my pajamas, mainly because they were just so darn comfortable. About 45 minutes into the drive, I knew I needed some caffeine, so I pulled over at a gas station and just walked right into that convenience store, pajamas and all. Are you embarrassed for me? I have no shame, I suppose.

Work went well and, as soon as I got everything for the day finished, I was on the road back towards the hospital. You’ll love this — each morning, I leave here at 6:30 a.m. and, each evening, I arrive back at the hospital at exactly 6:30 p.m. (it takes me 1.5 hours to get between the cities). Isn’t that ironic? Twelve hours with baby Olivia, twelve hours away.

Olivia’s dad doesn’t have many pictures of his girls, so he asked me to take a few pictures of Olivia while I was with her tonight. Would you like to see the darling little thing you’ve been praying for? I thought you might.

(Click on any image to view it in full-size.)

Baby girl is beautiful, isn’t she? We’ve spent this evening talking (well, I’m doing most of the talking as you can imagine) and now we’re listening to some quiet music. I’m already in my pajamas and settled in the chair beside her bed. I keep thinking about last Friday night, when I was rocking her to sleep in my bedroom (she and her sisters were spending the weekend with me the day before she had the accident). She was having a hard time falling asleep, so I sat on the edge of the bed rocking her while singing a lullaby. I can’t sing well at all, but baby girl didn’t seem to mind my voice that night.

I doubt she will tonight, either.

Olivia crashed two separate times during the night.  This morning we’re dealing with oxygen intake and fever issues as well as continuing to need her blood pressure to be higher.  If you look at my update from last night, they were able to get the new IV line placed in her groin, but we still haven’t seen an improvement in her blood pressure.

On the bright side, whenever I’m talking to her this morning, she moves one or both of her feet.  It could be an involuntary reaction, but we’ve still thrilled about the movement.

I’m headed back to Cleveland for work today.  Please keep praying for baby girl!

Update, 12:40 a.m. — Olivia’s blood pressure continues to remain low, so her doctor is going to attempt to put an additional IV line in, this time in her groin. This has been attempted on the right side of the groin and wasn’t successful, so it’s important for the left side to work so that we’ll have a new way to introduce an antibiotic into her system.

Original post:

It’s a rather quiet Wednesday evening here on the fifth floor of Children’s. As soon as I finished everything at my office today, I got in my car and headed back towards the hospital so that I can take part of tonight’s night shift with Olivia. Ryan went out to grab dinner as I arrived and Olivia’s night nurse came in to give me an update on everything I missed while I was at work today.

Olivia remains sedated and is experiencing low blood pressure tonight as well as some problems with the ventilator she’s on. I think I mentioned earlier that, when CPR was first being administered to her after she was pulled from the pool, it caused some food she had eaten earlier that evening to become displaced. They’ve found that pieces of chicken are stuck in her lungs, which is a serious problem. She is not stable enough for any operation to remove the pieces, so for now, we continue to wait. I’m beside her crib tonight, her little feet right beside me.

I thought you might like to see a picture of baby Olivia, so I looked through some of my recent collections and found one of her playing in my kitchen one afternoon.

She’s a tiny little thing, isn’t she? It’s hard for me to look at that picture and then look up from my computer screen at the baby laying in front of me with tubes coming from her swollen body. It feels surreal that I’m sitting in this room tonight, just me and baby girl in the ICU. It’s amazing how many womanly instincts have come out of my 25 year old single self these last 36 hours.

I’m doing well. I got to take a shower about an hour ago and I’m already in my favorite pair of pajamas. I’m looking forward to being with Olivia throughout the night before I head back for work in the morning.

I have so much more I want to write about, but I am too sleepy to even know where to begin. Maybe tomorrow? Yes, I think so.

Well, hello there.

I’m receiving a lot of hits to the blog for two different reasons and, since I’m getting so many emails and questions about both of them, I thought I better put up a quick post to explain a bit.

Part of you are here because you’ve recently learned of the diagnosis I received last week.  You can read more of my thoughts about the diagnosis here and here. To say that my heart is breaking right now would be an understatement but, as you’re getting ready to read, I have something far more important on my plate right now.

The rest of you are here because you’ve recently learned about baby Olivia’s accident.  If you’re new to my blog, God has given me a heart to “mother” girls who don’t have mothers in their lives. One of those little girls, Olivia, was involved in an accident at a swimming pool earlier this week while on vacation.  Olivia, a two year old who is being raised by her single father, was underwater for several minutes before being rescued from the bottom of the pool by her father.  She was life-flighted to Knoxville (an hour from where we all live) where she is currently in ICU treatment.  Her father has no family here so, since I have been a part of Olivia’s life, I’m helping him right now with her care, patient advocacy, etc.  Right now, I’m driving back and forth between my job and the hospital each evening and morning to be able to take the night shift with Olivia.   You can read more about Olivia’s story here or here.

I’m so glad you’re here.  And I sure hope you’ll stay around long enough for me to tell you the secrets of having big hair.  After all, the higher the hair, the closer to God.

Wait, right?

(Comments closed.)

Latest updates will continue to be visible at the top of this post…

10:45 a.m. | Wednesday — I just spoke with Olivia’s nurse and she reports that Ryan was able to sleep the entire time I’ve been gone and that Olivia has stayed stable and sedated, two things she really needs right now.  I was able to get through downtown rush traffic more quickly than I expected, so I spontaneously took a certain Knoxville exit and picked up an awfully cute 2nd grader and took her to breakfast before dropping her off at school.  She was very surprised to find me on her doorstep!

Once I was back on the road, I made some calls to different people in the Knoxville area and we now have individuals taking care of all immediate needs for Ryan (food, clothing, etc.) for at least two days, possibly three.  My home church from when I lived in Knoxville is stepping in to fill any further gaps.  Isn’t that wonderful news?

– — –

6:15 a.m. | Wednesday — Olivia went into distress a bit ago, but they were able to get her stabilized and she appears to be resting well. I slept for about an hour and then showered and dressed for work (I have to be back in Cleveland later this morning for a work event). Ryan is finally getting some sleep and I’m on Olivia-patrol, typing this from beside her bed. Just so you know, her medical team is fully aware of the mono and are the ones allowing me to even be in here. I just want to reassure you that none of us are putting Olivia at further risk.

Speaking of Olivia’s medical team, they are just absolutely fantastic. Her night nurse is smitten with her (who wouldn’t be?) and they’ve enjoyed seeing our videos and photos of a happier, healthier Olivia. At one point during the night, I left and went to buy ice cream for them because I just feel like PICU night nurses deserve ice cream, you know?

We were talking about Olivia while they ate their ice cream and I told them a story about her that had the whole group of them cracking up, so I thought you might like to hear it, too.

Last Saturday, the third puppy — Darling — had an accident on the kitchen floor before I could get across the room to her. Olivia had been playing with Darling and, after seeing her accident, she proceeded to take off her diaper and have an accident of her own right there in the kitchen floor while she clapped her hands in glee. I could barely get everything cleaned up from laughing so hard (though I did give her a proper lecture on the faults associated with diaper removal as soon as I was able to stop laughing).

Her nurse just came in and told me a bit about what they’re expecting. They will continue to sedate Olivia due to all of the tubes and wires. In addition to continuing to clear her lungs of water from the pool, they’re also working on clearing out some food that was misplaced during CPR efforts.

I’m going to try to start working on some form of care plan to coordinate meals and help for Ryan since he’s on his own. We have the oldest two girls back in Cleveland already and I’ll make contact with them when I head back that way in a bit. I’ll also gather up some clothes and other things for Ryan since he didn’t have much with him when everything happened.

Earlier this morning, after Olivia came out of distress, the team was telling me what an absolute miracle it is that she is even alive. They’ve been clearly communicating that we’re not out of the woods yet nor will we be for quite awhile, but they are encouraged that the ventilator is presently working to enable her to receive oxygen.

I need to hit the interstate soon to make it back in time for my work event, so I’m going to get off here and go spend a bit more time talking to Olivia before I have to leave. I have a really tight schedule with things at work today, but I’ll try to update this post as I’m able. Thank you so very much for your continued prayers for Olivia and her father and sisters. In fact, I think I’m going to go tell her about you now.

– — –

4:45 a.m. | Wednesday — Nothing new to report other than I fell asleep on a bench and fell off it onto the cold hospital floor. Olivia continues to be sedated, but I secretly think she thought the whole falling-off-the-bench thing was funny.

– — –

2:10 a.m. | Wednesday — One of the nurses encouraged me to talk and even sing to Olivia, since she’s familiar with my voice. She is sedated, but they say she can hear us and possibly understand what we’re saying to her. We masked / suited me within an inch of my life and I talked to her for a few minutes. I talked about everything we did together last weekend and, while I was talking about how we played with the puppies, she kicked her right foot! It may have been an involuntary reaction, but we’re LOVING the fact that she moved.

– — –

12:20 a.m. | Wednesday — updating via my iPhone. A few minutes after I wrote the post below (”Breathe, baby girl, breathe.”) Olivia crashed twice. I am now in Knoxville at Children’s with Ryan and a woman from their church. I’m suited and masked and able to be in the suite, though I’m keeping my distance from Olivia. She is currently stable after the two crashes.

Ryan is holding up well. I’m going to go find us something to eat in a few minutes and then we’ll all take turns sleeping / watching Olivia throughout the night. Baby girl is swollen and it’s breaking my heart. I’m camped out in the floor in the corner of the room, watching her vitals on the screens. Stable, stable, stable.

I’ll update as I’m able. Thank you for praying for Olivia. We’re believing God a full recovery for baby girl.

To read my original post explaining what happened to Olivia, click here.