She Is Near

I lay in bed tonight - sobbing softly into my sheets, trying not to wake up Chris.  As these thoughts and memories flooded my mind, this is what I heard...

"Get up and go write it out." 

"Why!?," I said.

"It will help you."

"Why does anyone else need to hear about these memories?!  They won't be easy to read and they are private."

"Go write it out."

OK...so here I sit.  At my computer at 12:30 at night.  I'm riding on another wave of grief right now.  (and no, you don't need to call me when you read this to check on me.  I will be fine.  I just need to process these feelings.  I need to face them - and it's ok.)  It's not fun.  I don't like it.  I haven't had one this big in a LONG time.  I'm mad.  I'm sad.  I'm missing.  I'm hurting and longing.  I'm wishing...

This newest wave of grief actually hit me a week ago.  Yes - a week...and it's still here.  Auugh....frustrating.  I usually can knock it a lot quicker.  Does this have to do with me still feeling postpartum-y since I just switched my medicine?  Yeah, probably.  Does it have to do with the fact that my hormones are screwed up because of the "time of the month?"  Yeah, probably.  Does it have to do with the fact that Chris had a MAJOR presentation to do at work (thank goodness it's over and he did a fabulous job...like I knew he would) and the last 3 weeks or so have been nothing but work into the wee hours of the morning...which in turn means I do the majority of everything with kids and the house?  Yeah, probably.  But none-the-less...it looks like I need to quit fighting back the tears like I have done all week and just ride this wave and then hopefully soon it will be over. 

So the majority of last weekend was spent at my parents house because my sister, Amy and her kids were in town. I haven't seen her for about 2 years.  She has a new sweet little girl, Alexis.

And then darling orange hair, Caleb (sitting next to my other sister, Mindi's son, Weston - who gives the best squeezy hugs!!).  Yes, Caleb's hair really is orange...like pumpkin orange!  And he is a doll-face!! Too bad this picture doesn't show his bright blue eyes.

Back to sweet little Alexis...

I had heard from my sisters about how darling and petite she is.  She is 3 1/2 months old and still wearing 0-3 month clothes.  TINY!!  Dallin looks massive next to her...although he is a hefty kid.  He is 8 months, wearing 18 month clothes.

(Alexis at Marci's house below)

So when I got to see and hold Alexis for the first time, I was standing in Mom and Dad's kitchen and lots of people were around.  As I held this beautiful little girl, emotions started whelling up in me and worked hard to hold back the tears.  She had curly hair.  She was tiny with bright shiney eyes and reminded me so much of my baby Chloe.  As much as I love and adore my 3 fabulous boys and am so thankful I have them, I will always have a special place in my heart for baby-doll girls.  Remember...I had a few breakdowns when I thought I knew for sure Dallin would be a girl. 

Anyway...I'm rambling.  I didn't feel in the mood to start crying right there in front of everyone, so I went with my Parker into the piano room and started playing to try to take my mind off of it.  It didn't really work.  As the tears started spilling over, Parker looked up at me, alerted by my sniffling, and asked me why I was sad.  I didn't really give him a reason, but he put his arm around me and gave me a sweet loving Parker hug.  Oh man, I love those hugs.  Then he was done and decided to go off to find his favorite orange hair cousin to play with. 

I sat at the piano, playing for a while trying to keep my emotions under control.  I just really wasn't wanting to go into WHY I was crying if someone found out from me having a raccoon face.  So, I played until I could face people without red eyes and a splotchy face. 

Holding that darling Alexis triggered my missing.  Missing of my little Chloe who is growing up WAY too fast.  And most of all, missing my sweet and precious daughter, Karleigh.  I sent Chris a text (he was at home working) about how I was feeling.  I know I will always have a special place in my heart for little girls.  How can I not?  That missing and void won't be completely filled until I am reunited with my daughter someday - which I know will happen.

All week, I have had Karleigh on my mind a lot.  I have missed her.  I have wanted her.  I have cried for her.  I have longed to hold her.  To feel her soft, pink chubby cheeks again.  To hear her loud breathing everywhere I go - because she was always, always with me.  To have her snuggle into my body as I rocked her to sleep.  To put her wiggly head between my feet and bend over to fix her hair, usually into her 'fountain'.  To see her beautiful face and contagious smile and hear her calm voice.  To squeeze her chubby thighs, fingers and feet. 

Oh, how I wish I could squeeze her again. 

How I wish I could hold her again.

How I wish I could care for her every need again.

How I wish I could have that her tender, sweet spirit in our home again.

I MISS HER!!!  I WANT HER HERE (although not in pain!)!!

I love her so, so much and I just wish she could come back so I could tell her that over and over and over again because all the millions of times I told her here while she was on this earth will never be enough!!!

Today, we had a family fun day.  We needed one - bad!  I just wanted to be outside, enjoying the 60 degree weather and nature with my family.  We loaded up our bikes and lunch and kids into the truck (yes, Chris got a new truck) and headed out to a national park about an hour away.  We had a great time and all was lovely.  We picniced by a beautiful lake, the kids rode their bikes around and just played around on the rocks, while looking for acorns, moss and other fun nature-y things.

On the way home, Chloe ramdonly, sweetly and out of the blue said, "Mom, I'm your only daughter that you get to have right now."  Earlier in the week, she asked if I would get out Karleigh's tub of stuff and show her.  I told her that we would do it another day (I really didn't have time that day).  I find it interesting that the week that I have so many thoughts on my mind about Karleigh, my little Chloe does also.

As I laid in my bed tonight, I thought about our day.  I thought about Chloe's sweet comment and it brought back my feelings from earlier in the week.  My missing, my "this isn't fair", my "I can't believe I have buried my precious daughter!"  I know that was not the intention of Chloe's comment.  In fact, I am grateful that she is aware enough to know and recognize that I am indeed missing raising my other daughter, her sister.  I am grateful in the way she helps me heal.

This next part is the part that I haven't wanted to write about.  It is hard for me.  But tonight the images are fresh in my mind and I will write them out as I was told.  If you don't want to hear about Karleigh's passing...stop reading now....lots of details that may be too much for you.

The morning of April 14th, 2005, I woke up around 5:30 (I think) to Karleigh.  She was breathing funny.  I laid there for a couple seconds listening, trying to determine if she had been crying and I had slept through it (because I had been up countless times that night with her and was exhausted).  Quickly realizing something was terribly wrong, I quickly went to her bedside and she was beat red in the face.  She was having a hard time breathing.  I scooped her up, grabbed the thermometer and took her quickly to my room and woke Chris up. 

"She can't breathe.  Her temp is 104.  Hand me the phone." 

I called the on call nurse at the Children's Hospital in Denver where we took her for all her medical needs.  Why did I call there instead of 911...well, having a daughter with so many medical needs, I learned very quickly to try to stay calm and not freak out.  The nurse got right on and asked for me to put Karleigh on the phone so she could hear her breathing.  She told me to call 911 immediatly and then she would call back to make sure we were ok.  She did call back right as the first set of officers came.

Officers.  I didn't know they were officers.  I thought they were paramedics.  But they obviously were closer to our house and could get there faster.  I had Karleigh down in the living room by this point and was holding her and trying to get her comfortable.  I couldn't understand why these two men were asking me questions about her and not helping her and just standing there!!  Quit questioning me and give her some dang oxygen!!!  Just help her!!  But I kept my cool and answered their questions all while trying to help my daughter.  Meanwhile, I had called our neighbor and Chris was quickly taking Zach over there until his mom could arrive to pick him up. 

What seemed like forever, but probably wasn't, the paramedics finally came.  They rushed in.  I was sitting on the big blue couch holding my girl.  They started checking stuff and getting her info, all while I was looking into Karleigh's eyes - terrified and scared out of my mind!  Karleigh locked eyes with me and didn't look away. 

Then, her beautiful eyes rolled back and she started seizing.  The paramedics had me lay her down on the couch and they started putting medicine up her bum, I think they gave her some shots of something.  Nothing was working to stop the seizure.  Meanwhile, one of the officers pulls me into the kitchen and starts questioning me again on Karleigh's medical history, what happened, etc.  I was SO annoyed that he took me away from Karleigh's side and kept asking him to tell them to take her to Denver - not the nearest hospital.  She needed to go to the Children's Hospital.  They knew her.  They had everything on file.  But those few minutes felt like hours!!  I found out later that they were taking so long because they thought she wasn't even stable enough to make it to the ambulance.

"Ma'am, they are bringing in Life Flight, but we have to take her by ambulance just out of your neighborhood where there is room for the helicopter to land."  She was still in a full seizure.  Chris and I gathered our things, even her wheelchair and threw it in the back of the van.  It didn't even occur to us that we wouldn't be bringing her home.  Of course she would. 

They loaded her in the ambulance and let me ride in the front out of the neighborhood.  Chris followed right behind.  I looked thru the back window into the back of the ambulance and watched them work on her.  They were giving her big shots full of medicine.  We pulled out of the neighborhood and there was the helicopter.   As I got out of the ambulance, I went to the back and peered into the windows and watched my darling daughter.  ER scene.  Awful.  Claudia, Chris's mom, pulled up and Chris was talking with her while I was at the ambulance.  Finally, one of the paramedics kindly pushed me away from watching, so I went over and had a huge hug from Claudia...and sobbed.  I was scared out of my mind.

Finally, they came over to us and said they were going to load her up and fly her down to Denver.  They told us to get going and get a head start.  By this time, morning rush hour had started.  What would have normally taken us an hour to get to the hospital, took us 35 minutes.  We wizzed through on the HOV lane that I'm convinced Heavenly Father left unused that morning for us.  As we drove, I called my mom to tell her what was going on.  I called our Relief Society president and another friend and asked them to start calling everyone to ask for prayers.  I needed their prayers!

We pulled up to the hospital ER.  Chris dropped me off and hurried to go park the car.  I ran in and asked to be taken back to my daughter that had just been life-flighted in.  The receptionist said, "Ok, sure.  Let me have you fill out these papers first."  I leaned into the front desk and said, "My daughter was just flown in!  Take me back NOW!," to which she quickly obliged.

I was led to where Karleigh was being worked on.  A nurse jumped right up and came over to me as I was in complete shock at what I was seeing!  Chris was quickly by my side seeing the same sight.  They sat us down in the doorway of the triage unit and that kind nurse knelt down beside us and started explaining everything that had gone on and was going on.

"During the flight to Denver, she went into cardiac arrest.  They have been working on her for 30 minutes trying to get her heart going.  They got it going once, but then it happened again.  They are giving her a medicine for ____?? and _____??.  Those big rods sticking out of her hips/thighs are to give her medicine directly into her bone marrow."  Uh, excuse me, did you just say they were through her bones?!!, I thought!

Without much warning, they stopped working on her.  There was no more they could do.  My little girl was gone.  She was gone!!  NO!!!  I lept up from my chair and ran over to her.  Chris tried to stop me.  The doctor tried to stop me.  "Wait, let us clean her up for you."  "NO," I said.  "I don't care!" and I threw myself over my daughter.  This wasn't happening!!  Stay here!!!  I cried and cried and cried as I held onto my girl. 

They came in a few minutes later and wrapped her in a beautiful white afghan and let Chris and I hold her.  She was still warm.  She was so beat up though.  Soon her blessed pediatrician came in and threw her arms around us and sobbed with us.  "If I would have known how sick she was yesterday, I would have admitted her!  I'm so sorry!!"  (Ellen Elias)  I held her as her battered little body went cold.  Oh, that was an awful feeling!

They led us to a quiet dark room so we could be out of the awful triage ER room.  We sat in there and held her for hours.  Our wonderful friends, Chris and Monique Lewis, were there very shortly after being moved to that room.  They had lost two of their own boys.  We then called Chris's parents and had them bring Zach to the hospital. 

That night I just needed to be as close to her as I could.  I slept in her bed that night, well...what little sleep I could get in between sob sessions.  I prayed to feel her near.  I needed her near.  I felt like I couldn't go on - couldn't breathe.  I prayed and prayed and prayed.  And then as I prayed my aching heart out, it happened.  I know it was my Karleigh.  As I laid there curled up in fetal position, I felt as though Karleigh was wrapping her arms around me.  I all the sudden felt so warm and it literally felt as though she was holding me in her arms.  I wept.  I thanked my Father for giving me this gift.  I KNEW she was there.  There was no doubt.  As I prayed and felt comforted, those warm arms left.  I frantically prayed for her to be able to come back.  I wasn't done.  Please don't go!  And just like that, she was gone.  The warmth of her arms around me was gone, but yet, I had the strong impression that she wasn't far.  She would not leave me, but would be there to hold me up.

I have the most beautiful gaurdian angel. 

So does Chris and Zach and the rest of my family.

That ER scene is something that haunted me so much for the first few years.  It would replay over and over.  I usually don't think about that part of her story anymore.  I try to focus on her life and the beautiful times we had together.  But for some reason, these scenes decided to replay and rear their ugly face again.

But...you know what...as I am writing this right now, I am already feeling better.  I am already feeling more calm.  Yes, the tears are still freely flowing at now 2:30 in the morning and I am still very sad, but I know she is near.  I know my sweet Karleigh is near. 

I usually keep these thoughts private.  They are hard.  It was one of the worst days of my life.  For some reason, Heavenly Father asked me to write them out - now almost 7 years later.  7 years.  Wow.  How can it be?! 

I'm almost 7 years closer to seeing her again.

What a glorious reunion that will be.

I love you forever, my sweet darling girl.  I am sorry for the pain and horrible things you had to endure while you were here on this earth.  But thank you for doing it with such grace and courage.  Thank you for shining your light down on me.  Thank you for being near.  I miss you.  Dad misses you.  Zach misses you.  Chloe, Parker and Dallin miss you.  You are forever a part of our family and we are doing everything we can to make it back to be with you forever.  Never forget how special and loved you are.  I hope someday to be just like you!

Love, Your Mom