I asked for her to be taken away and that’s what Boy did. He had been unaware of many of the things going on partly because I didn’t want to bother him with all of it, and partly because he was busy working.  He knew our baby was different and that she was a handful, but many of the events of the day I kept to myself.  It’s my problem, she’s my responsibility, it’s my fault she is the way she is.  And so there it was, hello GUILT.  They say that it’s part of the grieving process when you lose a loved one, and that’s just what happened in my case.  I lost the vision of my perfect little girl, of my ‘trip to Italy’, of my happily-ever after.  Guilt would creep in and start to play a huge part in everything I did and felt.

So Boy stepped in to save the day. He took her to his family’s Thanksgiving celebration in a small Texas town.  I was relieved and ecstatic.  I would shop, watch TV, sleep, drink wine and do whatever I wanted for a very quiet and long weekend.  It was just the medicine I needed and had been craving.  I didn’t feel bad about it at all because I deserved it!  I thought to myself, this will go down as one of my most favorite Thanksgivings-just some time away from her and that’s all I need.  Then the phone rang………I answered happily, how could I feel anything else on such a blissful day?  The news my mother-in-law shared on the other end turned my body ice cold.  My little girl had suffered a seizure while in the bathtub and had to be taken to the local clinic, they needed me to call with her doctor’s information and phone number.  “It’s OK sweetie, don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”

I stood there shaking uncontrollably, but called with the information that was requested.  “How is she”, I asked.  Boy had no time to give me any information, it wasn’t good, he had to go and be there with her, and he would have to call me later.  So, all that was left for me to do was sit, cry and think about how horrible I was for wanting to be away from her and how I’m not there with her now.  What if I lost her?  All I could think about was, it’s MY fault, and this wouldn’t have happened if I had been there with her.  Another phone call later and my mother-in-law reported that they were having to life-flight her to a bigger hospital and Boy was with her on the helicopter.  I got myself together and packed for the drive to be with that little girl I was enjoying time away from just hours before.

Ummm, excuse me, Guilt…will you just leave now or have you parked yourself in the middle of my chest?  It feels like you are there and you weigh as much as an elephant.  I hope you don’t stay long because you are not a pleasant guest to have around.  That next morning, I walked into the hospital room to find her laying motionless, eyes shut, machines breathing for her and tubes all around.  The doctors and nurses were prepared for my arrival and were at the ready with words of reassurance.  “Oh, hon, she’s a fighter- a tough little girl, but she’s been through a lot and she’s taken a hit.”  Little did they know that I was being beaten up on the inside the whole time I was trying to be strong standing there choking back tears and feelings of immense guilt.  That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and it got worse.

As we stood there looking at our little girl, Boy finally had time to tell me the story. He had been giving her a bath when he saw that “look in her face” and the seizure started.  By the time he got her out of the tub and wrapped her in a blanket she was seizing violently.  He jumped in the car with his father and they found the nearest clinic that was open on Thanksgiving night.  It was desolate in the parking lot, not a good sign.  When he got inside the doors he started yelling for help with this baby in his arms fiercely seizing.  The few staff members that were on call that night started scrambling, they weren’t prepared for this kind of emergency with a very young child.  And it was obvious to Boy, that they weren’t experienced with this sort of thing either.  He watched in horror as his baby girl almost came off the table while her seizure continued.  They had to quickly administer medication to her to stop her seizure but didn’t have the pediatric supplies they should have had.  She quit breathing once her seizure stopped and had to be intubated to save her precious little life.  I could tell that Boy had been through his own little hell that night; was he feeling the same guilt as I was?  Or was he quietly blaming ME for not being there with him.  As he continued to tell me the story, I felt GUILT crushing my chest even harder.  Shortly after they intubated her and gave her medication to counteract the valium they had administered to stop her convulsion, her seizure started up again as violent as ever.  Boy reported that’s when he was the most scared as he watched the IV come out of her arm, blood spouting everywhere; he thought his little girl was dying right then and there.

The weather that night had been stormy and dangerous and the life-flight helicopter that was called almost didn’t get to take off.  The crew desperately knew that if she was going to live she was going to have to get out of that clinic so they made the decision to go up in the air.  Boy was on the helicopter with her and when they received the recommendation that they would have to turn around and head back to that unfitted clinic due to the weather, he looked at the pilot and begged him not to head there, please anywhere else but there.  They promised him they would find somewhere else and they thankfully made it through the storm and found a hospital with a pediatric intensive care unit that could handle everything our little girl had been through.

She’d taken a ‘hit’ was what the doctor had said and it never really registered what he meant until she had woken up several days later.  The only thing she would do was rock back and forth, ring her hands, and moan inside that little iron cage they had her in.  I spent hours holding her, singing to her and quietly telling her “I’m sorry”.  It was our little secret, “I’m sorry baby for not being there for you, for not being the mother that God wanted for you, I’m sorry for not wanting you and I’m sorry for hating you.”  I was left to face the thought of now having a child totally opposite of what she had been in the past. Would she ever run, climb, dance, sing, laugh, and be her vibrant self again?  Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it. I found myself running through the hospital in search of the chapel; making my way there hiding the tears that were falling down my face.  I sat in the pew and cried thinking to myself how could this happen?  I’m sorry for doubting you God, was this some kind of punishment you had for me?  I’ll do better, I promise, if you just help her and make things right again, I’ll do better.