Less Quick Stop November: The hardest month of the year/ my life

Warning: This will get into the grimy details, so if you can't take throw-up and poop just stop here. And know that I respect so deeply those that work in the medical world, so if any of this looks like they are put in a bad light, I am sorry. 

This month started out with a horrible case of Croup. Both kids got it and I thought there could be nothing worse than hearing them wheeze for each breath and cough constantly and violently through the night. It was so hard. I held them so tight. And then it was over. 

Then Jadyn started getting sick again. It started with diarrhea. Then one night she woke up covered in vomit. This was a new thing I could check off my Mothering List. I have never smelled anything so horrible, and it was so hard to clean up and scrape out of her hair. I took her to the doctor the next day and he said it was the stomach flu and it would run its course. And then she seemed to get better. 

Then she woke up almost drowning in vomit. And I cleaned the horribleness again, and let her sleep with us that night. And so it continued. A few days she would be completely normal and seemingly healthy, then another night of vomit and another day of diarrhea. By the time we were to leave for Arizona for Jace's bike race and Thanksgiving I was CERTAIN she was better.

The whole way there she had fits of screaming to stop to go to the bathroom (she was potty trained). So we stopped and stopped until finally I gave up and put a diaper on her and told her it was ok to go in her diaper (I know, stupid). The next stop I pulled her out of her carseat to discover she was covered in her own soil. COVERED. The poor girl just let it happen and took it like a real champ. We got to my sister in law's very late and tried to sleep. Jadyn just couldn't fall asleep. She would scream out in pain about her stomach. I fell asleep holding her on the couch. The next morning I took her to the bathroom and she threw up all over the floor. I was beside myself. I had taken a very sick kid into a house with a newborn and another toddler. Jenedy and I kept our kids at a distance the best we could all day, but it was no use so Jace and I headed up to his mom's house. 

And then she seemed fine again...and then she thew up again....and the diarrea became nothing but liquid. It seemed like there was no substance to it. She stopped eating. She barely drank anything. The morning of my birthday (day before Thanksgiving) she couldn't move from her bed. Seeing her so lifeless felt like nothing I could really describe. I wanted her pain. I wanted to take it all away. The more drained she seemed, the more life that was sucked out of me. 

We took her to a small clinic nearby. They said she would need to go to the Urgent Care because she needed an IV and they were not authorized to do so. We got to the UC and they put an IV in. That part in and of itself nearly killed me. Pinning her down while she whimpered in pain and confusion drew my first set of tears that day. Finally, we were told she would need to go to the hospital. You are not allowed to drive your child yourself when they have an IV, so she had to ride in an ambulance with Jace. We figured it was worth the trouble so she would not have to endure another needle. I followed behind after picking up some things at the house. This time it was Jace that broke down. For the hour or more I wasn't at the hospital with him, he was bombarded with questions that he didn't know the answer to (medical history, diet, cycle of her sickness). You don't realize just how completely involved you are in your child's life until someone quizzes you on everything. Not his fault, I am just there way more, obviously. 

She needed to spend the night so they could monitor her, but she seemed to be improving. Once she was asleep, Jace ran down to the cafeteria and grabbed some dinner and some sort of dessert. He pulled out the iPad and we had my birthday "dinner and a movie". Around 2am, the nurse came in to check her vitals and knocked the IV out. She knocked out what we had gone through so much trouble to keep in! I would have let it slide, if she had apologized....but no...it went something like "Ooops, someone didn't put that in good. You're going to have to wake her up so I can get one in again." I am sure a little steam came out of my ears. After all she had been through today, I now had to awaken her from her much needed sleep and force her to go through more pain. I pulled her into my lap and held her tight while they tried, and tried and tried again. This was the first of only a handful of times I've seen my husband ask me to be the stronger one. They said she was too dehydrated to get a needle back in. Two hours later there were about six nurses in the room, each giving a try and adding a bruise to her little arms. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I realized my perspective on the medical world had been skewed. I assumed they would always do the right thing and I would never have to question it. But this was MY daughter. And they were pushing her past her limits. They weren't even being kind to her. They yelled and said "We have to do this, Jadyn!" She was covered in sweat, I was drenched in tears. Through her panting and wailing, she still noticed her mother's sadness. She put her black and blue arm on mine and said "Mommy, we're gonna be ok." Finally I snapped out of my helplessness and said something to the effect of "Don't talk to her like that, YOU just woke her up in the middle of the night and started attacking her!" And then another realization, "She has been peeing all day! Does she really need this?" They ran to ask the doctor. The doctor said if she drank enough we wouldn't need to stick her for the seventh time. When I told her she wouldn't have to be poked again if she drank a glass of water she chugged it.

The next day she was discharged. I felt like a had just finished a race, (which is funny because I missed the race my sister-in-law and I were supposed to run together that morning). I wore my imaginary badge of honor proudly all through Thanksgiving. We went out and shopped black friday in the middle of the night. I laughed at how crazy my MIL gets when she's super tired. I felt so much relief. Jendedy (Sister in Law) and I went out again later that day to shop some more. My mother in law called a few hours later with an overwhelming amount of concern. Jadyn was still sick. In fact, she was even more sick than before. Her stomach had doubled in size and was as hard as a rock. She was rushed to the ER.  It was concluded that she had an ileus. This is when the intestines endure enough stress (from a flu or parasite) that they stop contracting completely. She had a blockage because of it. At this time, I really don't know whether I loved my smart phone or loathed it. I tortured myself looking up the possibilities. Surgery was a possibility. DEATH was a possibility. She got an x-ray and an ultrasound but the results took 10 hours to get back to us. We just sat there in that icy cold emergency room, on the busiest day of the year and waited, with a prayer continually looping in my mind to spare my child. I know the rarity of the worst happening with an ileus, but when you sit in a hospital, take in all the frantic chaos around you, and see your daughter completely lifeless sitting on a bed much too big for her little body...well...you just can't help but think the worst is always a possibility. In fact, I had experienced the worst vicarously through Jace's sister and her husband the year previous with their Victory Morgan. When I had been at the house earlier that day to grab things to bring to the hospital I felt it all in one hug. I told Victor (Brother in Law) what was going on. He had been a little distanced this whole time and for good reason. Hospitals were a bitter place for him. But when I told him I didn't know how to handle this, he grabbed me and hugged me. I felt all his pain from losing his precious son. In that instant he gave me the most tender gift: empathy. I knew losing your child was not just something you see in the movies. This reality haunts me often. 

Finally, they came back with the results. The doctor working with us was not a pediatric doctor, but she was one of my very favorite people that day. She worked her tail off chasing down specialists and pediatricians in the ER as they moved between other patients. She admitted her humble knowledge on Jady's case, but did not let that stop her. She told us every piece of information she could. But the most important was that she was going to be ok. It was not fatal. Oh how I sobbed when I heard this. I kissed Jadyn all over. We were so far from out of the woods, but I could stop overdramatizing the situation. 

So the waiting game began. We moved back upstairs to the Pediatric floor and settled in to see what her body would do next. The hope was that things would just move naturally with the help of fluids being pumped into her IV. Oh, right...the IV again. We have learned that her veins are not the easiest. In fact, it was a miracle they got her first one in so easily. There was much more pinning down and deep deep prayers that they would be able to get it in. The IV made it in eventually. My Mother in Law brought my Jaxon (6 months old) to visit and for me to finally feed him. I feel so blessed that we happened to be visiting family when this all happened. I don't know how I could have taken care of my baby and stayed with Jadyn the whole time. I managed to pump enough to keep him fed while being away from him practically the whole time. 

We were there a week. She endured not one, but TWO enemas. The second one was so hard to watch. The sounds she made reminded me of the ones I made while giving birth. It would hit me hard a couple times a day that she was only two and she was going through more pain than I have my whole like. She was prodded and poked often throughout the day as the doctors tried to figure out the cause of this mess. So many blood samples, urine samples, stool samples (yuck). In the beginning of the week she would scream whenever a nurse entered the room, bracing herself for the inevitable pain to be brought. By the end of the week she barely even looked up. Seeing her lose her fight was harder for me to see. During a particularly hard day, when she just hurt all over, she asked me to pray and ask Heavenly Father to take the pain away. Ouch, my heart. Two things I drew from this. One: She had enough faith that Heavenly Father could do this and Two: She had enough faith in ME that I could ask him. I struggled with how to explain that although God can, it doesn't mean he will. Though you better believe I prayed and pleaded that her sweet prayer would be answered. 

She had to stay off solids until the blockage was gone so for 4 days my little girl only had apple juice. We tried offering jello, broth, water... but no matter how bad she was hurting she was still fiercely as stubborn as ever (I wonder where she gets that from). Jace and I would sneak down to the cafeteria and eat when she fell asleep. Jace continually had to remind me that I COULD eat and I HAD to eat to be strong for her and be able to keep producing milk for Jaxon. How I love that man and his ability to give me courage. I felt so incredibly guilty. She'd say things like "Mommy, I'm so hungry. When can I have food?" And the dagger in my heart would twist. I decided to taste the broth they were offering her and realized it was totally disgusting. So I asked if they would use less water. And the clouds parted and she loved the broth. She loved it so much that she pushed the spoon away and said "Mamma get me a straw!" Then I laughed and couldn't stop. She just kept licking her lips and grunting in approval. "This is like food!""This is so good" "This is the best food I've ever eaten."....Jace and I just laughed and cried (so much crying). 

Then just like that she was better, unhooked and playing. We strutted out of that hospital like we had just won a million dollars. I passed babies that were much more sick and kids that had been there for months and I knew that I really had won the prize. I really feel like Jace and I passed some course in Advanced Parenting after this. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to go through hands down. Harder than break-ups. Harder than being made fun of. Harder than child birth. Because it was my daughter. It ripped me apart, which made the triumph so sweet. It changed me as a mother. I am sure I will always see Jady as my little girl, but I hold a certain respect for her that I didn't have before. 

I am so grateful for good nurses, 

For doctors that never stop researching,

For PBS (we watched A LOT of TV),

For priesthood blessings, 

For family that takes the burden when you cannot, 

For songs that comfort, 

For friends that show their true colors when I need them the most,

For the chance to be this girl's mom, 

And that she is here with me today.