Ready, Set, Go!

The one thing I’ve learned about having a medically complex child is it’s like running a marathon that doesn’t seem to end. I’ve never run a marathon before, but the people I know who have say it’s the hardest most rewarding experience.

I envy the ones who have persevered through 26.22 miles of running. What an incredible accomplishment.

Our Cincinnati dates are set! Sam’s next surgery is August 19th. He will have surgery to try fix why he has the trach (breathing tube). In layman’s terms, they will attempt to sew together the hole in his airway. He’s had this surgery done two times here, but it failed.

We are seeing the best of the best. Our doctors here care enough about Sam to know they are not the ones for the job anymore.

We will go back September 30th for some GI procedures and to check to see if the surgery worked.

I wish I could tell you they would remove his trach (breathing tube) if the surgery works, but he has several more things to be done in order for that to happen.

One thing at a time.

One foot in front of the other.

You know what else I’ve heard from those crazy marathon runners? It’s the call of their name they hear from a distance cheering them on that helps keeps them going.

When it comes to Sam, there are many on the sidelines cheering. Thank you for staying on the sidelines and continuing to cheer us on. You have no idea the impact it’s made.

Sam Strong!

Faith Over Fear!

Quick Sam Update

We decided to reschedule Cincinnati. After realizing Abby had soccer tryouts while we would be gone, we thought we didn’t want to not be here for her. We also would have had less than a week and a half to plan. That would be a tall building to leap with Sam!

Now we are waiting to get another phone call to reschedule. We thought we’d here back from them this week, but we didn’t. Hopefully we’ll get a call next week knowing they want to reschedule for August.

When it comes to Sam, we’re always waiting for the next thing. When you are in a constant Waiting Place under circumstances at no fault of your own, it’s much healthier to live in the moment than to dwell on the waiting.
Dr. Seuss
We choose not to stay in the Waiting Place.Dr. Seuss
Will (13), Abby (12), Sam (4)

Cincinnati Called Today

I was thrown very off guard this morning when Cincinnati called to schedule Sam’s next surgery.

“Does July 23rd work for you?” she asked. I was thrown even more off guard! Does she know we live in MN? Does she know my son is trached?

“Yes I think it will work. We will make it work.” I responded.

Right now we’re processing. There’s a lot to think about and do in a very short amount of time. It’s exciting and nerve racking all in one.

We’ll figure it out.

We’ll get it done.

Sam Strong!

Faith Over Fear!

What Will You Remember?

To my sweet Sam. Each year when your birthday rolls around, off and on, I become numb. The moments where my world completely stopped, become vivid in my mind more often at this time of the year.

This day four years ago our lives forever changed. The days with you can be hard, scary, long, overwhelming, and a lot of work, BUT I wouldn’t change a single thing.

You’ve made me realize even more, you never know what the stranger standing next to you has endured during this life, whether there is a smile on their face or not.

Because of you I’ve been able to meet some of the most amazing people and even though there seems to be so much chaos in the world, you continue to make me see all the good in people.

Today, and every year on this day to come, I will forever wonder what you will remember.

What will you remember?

Will you remember the day you were born when they immediately took you from me because you were turning blue?

I don’t think so.

Will you remember when you and Dad left in the ambulance without me?

No, but I will.

Will you remember I didn’t see you and Dad until over twenty-four hours later?

No, but I will.

Will you remember at the beginning when they said you would have surgery and then go home in a few weeks?

No, but I will. 

Will you remember when you were four days old? Dad and I were waving goodbye to you, tears in our eyes, as they rolled you away for your first of many surgeries?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when you were scheduled for surgery, but it got canceled because you went into cardiac arrest?

I don’t know.

Will you remember when I was going home for the first time after you had been in the hospital for three months to take your brothers and sister to their first day of school, but couldn’t because you went into cardiac arrest again?

I wonder.

Will you remember when less than twenty-four hours later, you turned blue AGAIN, needing more than ten minutes of chest compressions this time?

Maybe.

Will you remember when the doctor would give us more bad news? He told us in order for you to have a chance at life you would need a tracheostomy?  They would need to cut a hole in your throat to insert a breathing tube?!?!

No, but I will.

Will you remember the first time Dad and I had to change your trach (breathing tube)?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the surgery we had been waiting for since you were born that everyone thought would be successful, wasn’t?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they told us they would be moving you to to the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) because NI (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) doesn’t know how to sedate kids like PI does?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when you came back from surgery on your tummy with more chords coming from you than I could count, on a huge bed that wasn’t meant for babies?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they stretched your lower esophagus out of your upper back and your upper esophagus out your lower back?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the balloons on your back that couldn’t move and if you would even flinch, they would quickly give you more sedation meds?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when I was weak, Dad was strong and when Dad was weak, I was strong?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when I read and sang to you everyday during your thirty-four day medically induced coma?

No, but I will.

Will you remember one day while I was reading to you and your shoulder slightly twitched as if you knew it’s what I needed that day?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they they took you down to surgery to try connect your esophagus to your stomach again, but couldn’t?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the chest tubes?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they told us a chunk of your lower esophagus had torn off so they threw that piece of you away, resutured, and stretched again?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the brokenness I felt being torn between staying with you in the hospital and going home to be with your brothers, sister, and dad?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they tried to do a trach change, but you went into cardiac arrest AGAIN and needed to be reintubated?

I wonder.

Will you remember when your ENT left his clinic that day just to check on you, told me we had been through so much, hugged me, and left to return to his clinic?

No, but I will.

Will you remember all the complications?

No, and honestly, I already don’t. There were so many.

Will you remember the first time you opened your eyes after your thirty-four day medically induced coma?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when a part of me wanted you to close them again because they creepily raced back and forth?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when your nurse told me I would get to hold my baby after almost two months of not being able to?

No, but I will.

Will you remember, although you were tiny, it took four people to carefully and slowly put you into my arms?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the tears immediately streaming down my face as I held you in my arms again?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they told me we needed nurses in our home for up to twenty hours of the day to help take care of you?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when you were you six months old and I took you on your first stroller ride, up and down the hospital halls?

No, but I will.

Will you remember how excited, yet terrified I was the day they told me we could finally bring you home?

No, but I will.

Will you remember when they put your car seat on the ambulance stretcher, all the hugs, people staring, doctors and nursing crying?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the first day you were home after spending over seven months in the hospital?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the many who thought you’d never make it out of that hospital?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the first time we went back to the hospital two weeks after you were home to get your esophagus stretched?

No, but I will.

Will you remember all the surgeries? You’ve now had over fifty and you’re not even four.

No, but I will.

Will you remember all the times we spent in the ER because the regular clinic, urgent care, or hospitals closer to us don’t know what to do with a kid like you?

No, but I will.

Will you remember for over nine months  people brought meals to our house?

No, but I will.

Will you remember the MANY cards, gift cards, and gifts we received?

No, but I will.

There is so much more I will remember, but you won’t and that’s how it should be.

There are times I wonder if you will remember the four times in your life you met Jesus. I wonder if you’ll be able to speak someday and tell me all about it. Until then, I will love you like every mother loves their children.

Happy 4th birthday my sweet boy!!!! Keep on being super!!!!

Sam is 4!!
Happy 4th birthday Superman Sam!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sam Update

It’s been a while since I’ve shared the latest on Sam. No news is good news, right? Pretty much.

It may also have something to do with distance learning, which kicked my behind. I am very glad school is out for the summer in our house. There may have been more yelling matches and apologies needed than I am proud to admit.

Sam was also able to do distance learning, which was the highlight of our days to watch. His face would light up as soon as the camera started. He thinks it’s pretty great to watch himself, and loved seeing his teacher, paras, and classmates. Our hearts melted every time.

Sam’s teacher, therapists, and paras had an end of the year virtual graduation for each child individually. His teacher dropped off a package about a week prior and had asked us to wait to open it until the graduation. Everyone talked about all the things they loved about Sam, he opened his gift and it ended with a video of pictures of Sam throughout the school year. The tears were literally streaming down my face.

This kid who isn’t suppose to be here…absolutely thriving.

Besides a few bumps, Sam has been very healthy and continues to put smiles on everyone’s faces.

As you know, I like to pull the perks in crummy situations. Most of us could agree being stuck at home wasn’t what we would choose, but there was good that came of it for us.

When Sam has just one appointment, it’s usually at least a four hour ordeal if not more. We try our best to group some appointments together in one day for less trips overall.

While quarantined, we were able to schedule Sam’s appointments virtually, which has been a huge blessing for us. An hour versus four or more out of your day is much better if you ask me and Sam is a very busy guy when it comes to doctor appointments.

One virtual appointment did lead Sam to needing an ultrasound in the near future. Unfortunately, it’s looking likely there was a complication of the surgery he had last fall, which may lead him to another surgery. Praying against yet another surgery for this guy.

Sam’s ophthalmologist wanted to see him in the clinic before his normal six month check up. Since January, he’s been closing his right eye when he is focusing on something. We thought maybe his nearsightedness had gotten worse. We were wrong. I’m not gonna lie, the thought of Sam having glasses made me a little excited. You can’t tell me, he wouldn’t be adorable. Am I right?!

The reason Sam has been closing his right eye is because his lazy eye has gotten worse. For right now, he has to wear a patch alternating eyes for an hour a day. Sam’s nurse and I practically laughed when we walked out of the clinic. There no way he’s going to tolerate that! Wrong again!

He’s been a rock star at wearing his patch. Coincidentally, his buddy next door has to wear a patch too. This definitely helps! And they couldn’t be any cuter.

Sam and Declan
We are the patch buddies.

Sam was finally able to get a haircut! We are always amazed at how fast his hair grows. I’ve lost track of how many haircuts he’s had. We are thankful we have someone who comes to our house to cut his hair.

Right now, Sam’s focus are his GI issues, which have always been a work in progress for him. The latest thing we’ve tried has been working successfully for almost a week. We’re praying this stays that way. 

Cincinnati…

Obviously with Covid, we had to put the brakes on our trips, which is not such a bad thing. Yes, we want to get rid of Sam’s trach and it holds us back from things, but overall he has a good quality of life so pumping the brakes is okay. More importantly, Sam has been healthy the past few months and we are grateful for that.

We received a phone call about three weeks ago from Cincinnati, they will be calling in June or July to schedule Sam’s next surgery. My guess is our next big trip will be in the fall.

That’s all for now folks!

Thanks for staying Sam Strong even in the midst of all the chaos in our world.