Conquering the Course and Learning to Walk

My dad and Kayla came to visit one weekend when Lissy still couldn't walk. I can't find an update I wrote about that. However, it was awesome. They played blocks with Lissy, and took turns being the timer for the boys' Ultimate Ninja Warrior obstacle course. They spent  time in Idaho after that, but then got to our house on Sunday night in time to eat ice cream treats and play Ticket to Ride. So fun, and the kids were crazy about the chance to see them.

Also, a few weeks after the accident, and around the time of these pictures (which were about 3 weeks after the accident, I think), I took Lissy to the orthopedist. We'd originally been told Lissy couldn't even sit up for 6 weeks, but when we left the hospital I was told she could sit but not crawl or walk for 6 weeks . . . then at the orthopedist, she said, "These fractures look really stable, she'll self-limit, so if she wants to crawl or walk, let her. Probably will happen in 2-3 weeks." I was BLOWN AWAY. Seriously, so much better than what I'd been told in the hospital, it was unreal. Then . . . she was crawling a few days later, and walking a few days after that. It was stiff and tentative at first, but she was absolutely determined. The girl is crazy. Or the miracle is crazy. It's all just literally un-believable.

We got something in a bubble mailer, and Andrew thought this was the best way to pop it.

Ultimate Ninja Warrior obstacle course - if you fall, of course you fall right into the pool.

The timer-man

Where the course starts . . .

Racing to beat the clock!

Kayla was great to play with - toddlers that can't get around need lots of entertainment!

Blocks with grandpa was a favorite.

Kayla took her turn as the timer-woman.

Mega-blocks were a big favorite when Lissy was immobile.

Lissy first learned to crawl after the accident . . . and immediately started acting like a puppy.

Since they were puppies, fetch was a popular game . . .

 . . . and she can stand! What van?

I'm not sure at this point what was going on here - but it's adorable,so it stays.

Two Weeks of Progress

Originally posted 1/19/14, re-dated to match date of events and most of the original writing.

I was reminded I need to post all of the updates I was sending my family for the last many months, and when I opened this page (to which I'd already loaded the pictures), I thought it must be wrong. Couldn't be pictures from after Lissy's accident, it was gorgeous and sunny and the kids put on swim suits! Oh yes, it was, all part of the fuzz-brain that is the last part of last year. Hopefully someday I'll write more about (both) times Lissy was in the hospital, but for now, here's from the week after she got home from the hospital in September (two weeks after the accident):

Such a long week, and yet it flew by. Every day got a little bit better. On Monday Lissy was a full-time job almost for 2 adults, but now, I can manage her on my own, and even do stuff like throw away the occasional trash or eat my lunch. She cried to be held almost constantly on Monday, but now she can sit on the floor and do a puzzle for a few minutes or sit in her high chair and eat a handful of blueberries. Progress! She still requires constant attention, but is happier more of the time.

So, yes, even with Mom there, neither one of us got a shower until almost 2 on Monday! Poor Lissy was in a lot of pain then, continuing through Wednesday when her oxycodone ran out. She would get in a lot of pain, then just lie in my arms and stare into space with a cool rag on her forehead. On Wednesday morning, I knew she only had one more dose, and then she wouldn't have any medicine for the dose she would need at 4, so I called the pharmacy at Primary's first thing in the morning. The pharmacist told me to get ahold of the doctor we'd seen there, so I called the trauma nurse practitioners (as per discharge instructions), and left a message. They didn't get back to me until 1:15, and then told me it's a law that you have to be seen in person in order to get a prescription. Woulda been nice if anyone had told me that before! So, I called the pediatrician's office, and they told me they were full and she could walk in at 5. By that point, I'd had it, and I busted out with, "This little girl has been run over by a van, I've been working on this all day, and she is due for the medicine at 4!" He fit me in at 3. Lissy threw up all over the place while we were waiting for the doctor, so I was wet and she was naked as I carried her out like a baby. Had to laugh at what those in the lobby might have been thinking. After driving from Tooele to Stansbury (no oxy for kids), then back to Tooele, I got a drive-through pharmacy to get us the meds - at exactly 4! I just thought it was quite the adventure.

Having Mom here was the best. She is the best. We loved chatting with her, and couldn't have done it without her.

Jamie read to Lissy on Wednesday so I could shower, Mamie read to her on Thursday so I could clean the bathroom, and Kami came on Thursday and greatly eased the transition when mom left. Julie helped out Friday morning, and helped me find the library books that I had no renewals left on, then she brought them back. A guy came over and just mowed our lawn one day. We feel so blessed!!!

The Relief Society had a little support group thing on Tuesday for those who were witnesses to Lissy's accident. We had brunch and chatted, and it was so good for us. Seems like so long ago now . . . (P.S. Now a few months past the trauma, the support group makes me want to cry, although I couldn't cry then. What a thing to witness, that accident.)

After an exhausting week, it was very fun to take my boys to the school carnival on Friday night. Gary stayed home with Lissy. There were bounce houses, games, and too much candy. Perfect. You wish you could see how excited Andrew gets to go on the bouncy slides over and over. Andrew and Josh both tried at the cake walk, and Andrew was a winner, which I love. Also, Noah got a balloon parrot he was so proud to have on his shoulder, but then it fell off and popped, so a nice friend gave him tickets for a new one. Beautiful night, and so happy to be all dressed and stuff!

On Saturday I got to work out for the first time in two weeks (woo-hoo!!), then the whole family went to Josh's soccer game. Lissy was happy to be outside, and clapped for Josh. Josh looked dead-tired the whole time, but really made some good passes and even scored a goal in traffic. Andrew and Noah had their game later, and Julie came over with her kids and watched a movie while Lissy slept so I could see the boys play. So thoughtful, the boys needed that. Andrew was trying really, really hard. That kid would be rocking his preschool league. Noah made a few goals as he tends to do, but the other team made him work for it. So cute.

On Saturday afternoon Lissy was doing her fussy-thing she does and Gary said, "Oh my goodness, what do you do with her all day?" Just funny to me, because that is the exact question I ask my self all day. Today we took her on a few walks, and she really liked it, so now that she is well enough to be jostled a bit (this past week she wouldn't/couldn't even sit in the stroller), we'll have to walk a lot.

Lissy hasn't screamed as much the last two days, but she has been pretty difficult to put to bed. The boys have started trying to eliminate each other, so they're really feeling this change of routine. Those are things that will improve, overall we are obviously very, very, very blessed.

And some pictures from the end of the week when things were going a bit better . . .

Lissy liked playing with stickers in her high chair, and her brothers were so cute helping her.

This is Lissy's special chair she was given by some sweet sisters in the ward. It's a favorite with all of the kids.

This picture is for my mom - thanks for the dress!

Oh, my, this . . . I had the idea for this before Noah was born, and through the years worked on it little by little, got it ruined a bit, fixed it a bit, got it ruined a bit . . . it matched the stuff I used to have in the nursery, but with the room getting re-done, my sister was kind enough to hang it in the toy room. I have no idea how people have time to decorate, it only ends in tears for me. So, enjoy this, children!

When Lissy learned to sit on her own, it had to be up against the couch for a while.

Fun stuff from her care package!

These farm animal things are still a huge hit.

Lissy was very pleased with how her feet looked in the ballet shoes someone gave her.

Beywarrior House Party

When I told my boys they had a chance to win some Beywarriors if they made a great Beyblade video for House Party, they were in right away. They tried hard to make their video great, and often asked if they'd won. When we got the party, they couldn't believe their fortune, and immediately started inviting their friends.

My boys have been PUMPED for weeks about their Beywarriors party. I don't think they had any idea it was in jeopardy. I knew that if we didn't do it, House Party would never let us do another one, so it was on. After I re-invited people, Julie offered to have it at her house, and Jamie offered to bring popsicles, so I just brought the Beyblades, Beywarriors, and excited boys. All of the kids at the party were super excited to play with the Bey-stuffs, and didn't ruin Julie's house or anything. My boys' dreams came true. Wins.

Lissy loved propping up against the couch and watching the boys prepare to battle.

Tons of fun battling at the party.

The whole party crew.

The brackets

Popsicle time

ZZZPC, Velvet

Note: It's been a while since I started this post. I just came to a point where I felt I wasn't doing it justice. Then I didn't feel I could re-visit it. I still don't feel I did it justice. The emotions of that day were too strong, and my words too weak. However, what happened that day and the love and support shown to us is part of the miracle of the day, so I've done my best . . . originally posted 10/21/13, now re-dating to make posts chronological.

Gary beat the life flight to the hospital. I'd like him to tell what he went through in his words, but I'll improvise for now. A friend of mine called him from the scene and told him Lissy had been hit by a car, and that he should meet the life flight at Primary Children's. Gary usually rides the bus to work, but happened to have driven that day because we'd stayed up so late the night before folding laundry. He drove to the hospital praying all the way that her face hadn't been run over. When he got there, he was given a white sticker to put on with a large ZZZ printed on it, which means he was the parent of a trauma victim, and told to wait for a social worker to come get him. Two social workers took him into a hallway by the trauma bay in the E.R. where they could watch screens that showed the life flight landing. Gary listened to a team of doctors and nurses (he estimated about 12 people) preparing to care for Lissy when she came in. They were preparing for something pretty terrible. The life flight landed, the stretcher came off, and at long last Gary saw Elisabeth's face on the screen. She was looking all around, as if trying to assess her surroundings. Relief. After Lissy's airway, breathing, and circulation were declared stable, Gary was allowed into the trauma bay. As soon as Lissy was aware Gary was nearby, she gripped his finger, and Gary stood by listening to the injuries as they became known.

When I walked into the E.R. I was told to wait for a social worker to escort me to Lissy. One of my best friends was waiting there in the lobby, and said someone had come out and said she'd be okay. That was a tremendous relief, but I was still very anxious to see her. When the social workers arrived, they said Lissy had just been transferred to the ICU, and I followed the familiar path there. I couldn't believe I was at the ICU again - for the same child. When I first walked into the room, my view of Lissy was blocked by medical personnel, who began telling me about all of the positive signs they saw with her. The head trauma doctor said, "Everything we scanned had an injury, but none of it bad enough for immediate surgery." The run-down of the injuries:
-"pretty significant" skull fracture (sutures on occipital part of skull exploded when van went over her)
- a small brain bleed in the occipital area
- a whole lot of bruising to her right lung
- a small pneumothorax (hole in her lung)
- a liver laceration
- vein to her liver messed up
- one definite rib fracture, one suspected
- 2 pelvic fractures and 1 fracture around the tail bone area
- abrasions and bruising all over her back, face, and back of head; various scrapes
In the words of one of the trauma nurse practitioners, "All things considered, she is a very lucky girl."

When I saw her, incredible sadness and guilt washed over me. My baby - I let her get run over by a van. I couldn't pick her up, I couldn't hold her, all I could do was stroke the skin that wasn't covered by medical equipment. The pillow and blankets underneath her were bloody, and at one point a nurse moved her blanket and a chunk of hair fell out. Poor baby wasn't allowed to have any pain medication because they can slow neural and lung function, and since she wasn't doing well in those areas, they couldn't risk it.

Pictures can't really express what it was like to see her that day, but I'm so grateful to my sisters for taking some so we can all see how far she's come.

I didn't know these pictures were being taken, but oh, I love my baby! She looks so big in so many of the pictures, it's interesting to see a picture with a comparison to an adult.

I don't remember things clearly for the next several hours. Doctors were in and out, we asked a lot of questions, and after a while I started to feel okay about how Lissy was doing, considering. Some friends told me I should eat - I didn't really want to, I wasn't hungry. They said I wouldn't be hungry, but I had to eat, anyway, they insisted. Eating actually felt pretty good, and talking to friends outside of the ICU was helpful. While I was eating a sweet college roommate and good friend showed up- when she heard she came right away, stopping to buy Zupas for me. She felt bad I was already eating, but that food helped me through a few meals, and the show of support was unreal. I felt so much love, I didn't know how to repay or thank everyone, but I knew it was keeping me going.

When I arrived back at Lissy's bedside, my sisters Cindy and Kristen were there. Oh, so good to see them! Cindy was flipping through the chart and said, "She's got a lot of pretty bad injuries." Don't know why, but it felt good to see somebody that loves Lissy looking at the chart. After we spent some time with Lissy, we decided to get Kristen some food and our cell phones a charge, and went upstairs to the Ronald McDonald family room. (It's new and I LOOOVE it!) Maybe it was suddenly being in a calm room with a beautiful view that contrasted with the ICU, maybe it was being with my sisters, I don't know, but suddenly I thought of my crushed-up little girl, replayed the accident in my mind, and just couldn't take it. "I should have done something to stop it!" I sobbed. "I let a van run over my baby. I should have stopped the van. I should have thrown myself under the car so it would get me instead of her. I should have protected her. I let a van run over my sweet, innocent baby." My sisters offered words of comfort, but the grief and guilt filled my whole soul as sobs racked my body. It was the first time that day I cried that I knew of, and I lost it. My sister grabbed some kleenex and put her arm around me as I settled into a chair overlooking the valley. The emotions hurt, but it felt cathartic to let them out. After a few moments my mind started to yield to the comfort of my sister's logic, and I was calm again. I did not cry again that day at all.

The rest of the day flows in and out - Lissy was doing well enough to be moved from 1 to 1 care to 1 to 2 care, and so many amazing friends and family members came bringing their love that buoyed us up. Gary's parents were there as soon as they could be there (from St. George), Eric, Holly, Allison, Dallin, Martha, Dereck, Jessica . . . so many family members, fearing for their sweet little Elisabeth, came and saw that although she was broken, she was very much still there. My friend Julie came with stuff for me to take a shower - something that I didn't want to take the time to do at first, but found that the hot water was just the thing to soothe my burdens. She also came with the news that my other kids were hanging in there, and that Noah seemed to know spiritually that Lissy would be okay. Julie had also managed to find both Lissy's stuffed unicorn and favorite stuffed doll Ya-Ya (she named her), and she immediately curled one under each arm.

Dinner with Gary's family temporarily removed us from the situation and calmed me. I couldn't escape the nagging feeling that Gary was/should be mad at me. I was supposed to be protecting his children, and I failed. He nearly lost his daughter. I knew it was silly, but as we walked into dinner, I confided this to Gary, and he blew it off as ridiculous, grabbed my hand, and walked side-by-side with me into the restaurant.

At one point during the day I looked at Lissy's name tag attached to her crib, and saw that it read, "ZZZPC, Velvet." What? Apparently all traumas coming into Primarys via life flight are coded with ZZZ, and PC is for Primary Childrens. The kids are then assigned a trauma name, because they often don't know their names. Lissy's was Velvet. I was highly amused by that, and for the length of our stay, she was listed as Velvet. Made me smile.

At the end of the day, after we gave the last of the well-wishers tight hugs, Gary went home to be with our boys and I found myself curling up on a vinyl bed-thing next to Lissy's crib. Looking at her still brought a sick, sinking feeling to my chest, and I struggled with my inability to take away her pain, but all of the monitors reassured - she was breathing, her heart was beating, and she was resting. I knew I should try to do the same.

Broken

Just saw a video where Lissy is walking. She's only been broken for less than two weeks, yet it seems so long ago that she was able to get around.

(I never finished this post, but it's a mirror into my mind at the time, so I'll tuck it in amidst the rest. She was so helpless for a while, like a little china doll. I had no idea it would turn around so quickly.)

Miracles

Originally posted 9/20/2013, re-dated now to make posts fit chronologically.

If you missed what happened, read The Accident.

Our 27 pound toddler was run over by a 4,000 pound mini-van. It went across her abdomen, chest, and head. Every vital organ. And she is alive! It makes me sick just to read that first sentence, but I feel that to thank God for this miracle, I need to testify of His power, because I have seen it. I know that every story like this does not have this outcome, and I wrestle with that fact. However, Lissy apparently has reasons why her earthly mission is not yet finished, and her experience is a testimony to the fact that miracles have not ceased, and that God has the power to accomplish his purposes, no matter how impossible things may seem. Also, I know that regardless of outcome, the Lord provides miracles and tender mercies to his children who suffer.

I have abbreviated the names and called people by titles in case they don't want their names published. I did my best to write things down as I have heard them. If you know of any inaccuracies, or any additional miracles (people have told me there were so many!), let me know. I'd love to include them.

L. was getting in his car to pick up his father from the airport, but had a strong impression that he needed to stay in his car, and not leave yet. He didn't know why, but I've been told he sat there for around five minutes, trying to figure out why he felt so strongly he shouldn't go. A police vehicle went speeding past him with lights and sirens, and he thought, "I'm supposed to follow." So he did, and when he could drive no more, he parked and ran up to see me sitting in a driveway, with my bloodied and limp little Lissy in my lap. He was the one who got there just at the right time to give her a blessing. I heard later that he was worried about her breathing when he first arrived, but after the blessing her breathing seemed to even out a little. After that he had to pick up and move on to get up his father, but the image of what he had seen caused him to weep the whole way to the airport.

B. didn't have to be to work until 2 p.m., so he and his wife has planned a trip to Costco first thing in the morning. However, he kept feeling like he needed to delay the trip, so he kept finding another thing to do before they would leave. When the emergency sirens came to his neighborhood, he was still at home, and was the one who, with another brother assisting, gave me the blessing that brought me comfort throughout the whole day. Also, his wife came to the hospital with me, and kept everyone's spirits up in the car. Later, he came up to the hospital and assisted Gary in giving Lissy another blessing of healing, this time by her father and using oil.

J. had a feeling she should have her kids go to their baby-sitter, even though she didn't have to work that day. She wondered why, but before she could really get a start to her day, she heard emergency sirens in her neighborhood. She tried to call the bishop's wife, but no answer. J. felt that she needed to walk toward the sirens to see if she could help. As soon as she saw the bishop's wife standing there with her baby, she knew she had come to take the baby so the bishop's wife could be with me. I don't remember when the baby left, I just knew that when I worried about where her kids would go, the bishop's wife said they were taken care of. J. couldn't have run to the scene of the accident if her kids were home.

From the friend at whose house it occurred:
I am glad you had the chance to write this all down. It brought me to tears, again. I am so glad it had the out come that it did. God sent many blessings that day. Another one I noted is that it rained several times that day, long and hard. All remnants of the accident were washed away. The throw up, tire tracks, and hair were gone. The heavens wept for the situation and scared a few reporter off. So many miracles occurred. Our Heavenly Father was ever present because he knew Lissy needed to stay here. He knew miracles would occur that would strengthen testimonies, unite people, and help people to always have a desire to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

The team of doctors and nurses that assembled in the trauma bay were prepared for far worse than arrived at the hospital. Even so, for the first 2 hours they were very concerned (I found out later). The medical staff I talked to that were either there or talked to someone who was there when Lissy came off the life flight take a deep breath,  and shake their heads, as if in disbelief or shaking out a bad memory. The nurse practitioner who discharged her was blown away by the contrast between what had happened to Lissy and the state she was when she was discharged. The nurse in the ICU when she first arrived said that after a while, he put a lot of the equipment away they had planned to use. He said when they hear a child has been rolled over, they usually see much, much worse. Nobody could really explain to me why it wasn't worse, like they expected. I said to one doctor, "How does she have that distinct of tire tracks on her face and not a crushed skull?" He shook his head, was quiet for a few moments, then said, "Skulls are hard." . . . Then a moment later, "A great deal of luck." We were both quiet. He finally said, "Find the explanation that works for you, and go with that."

Noah met with a child life counselor at Primarys to try to work through some of the emotions he was feeling about the whole thing. Poor kid, I worried so much about what he experienced the day of the accident. Gary and I were in there with the counselor, too. She didn't get far at first, but after a while, he started to open up. We learned that Lissy didn't actually fall out of the vehicle, she climbed out when the car started moving. Another witness confirmed Noah's story later by saying that she actually saw Lissy standing there before she was knocked under the vehicle. At one point during the counseling session Noah said, "I tried to stop the car. I pulled out the key, and that didn't work, so I got down and pressed the stop pedal." Later, witnesses told me that when the car went down into the gutter at the end of the driveway, it started rolling back up, and came very close to going back over Lissy's head, but instead it stopped. I believe Noah had assistance with knowing which one was the "stop pedal."

After Noah had talked with the counselor a while, he needed to go to the bathroom, so Gary took him. While they were gone, I remarked to the counselor, "Well, if Noah was pressing the brake, maybe the car went over her slowly, and that explains why she wasn't hurt more severely?" The counselor looked at me and replied, "Either that, or some other very special things happened." It was like a shot of electricity went through me, and I knew she was right.

This is the part that is hard to explain - my spirit experienced something different than my physical body did at the scene of the accident. The medical world calls it shock. I know it's Heavenly Father's way of helping us to bear things we otherwise could not. I felt deep concern and anxiety, however, I did not feel the anguish and terror that usually accompanies thoughts of terrible things happening to my children. They say I screamed. They say lots of people were screaming. They say I cried. I didn't hear any screaming or crying from anyone, including myself. The whole scene was very quiet and calm from my view. I heard my friend saying on the phone, "A little girl has been run over by a car," and saying the address. I heard my other friend coaching and comforting me from the side. I heard almost nothing else. However, the friend who called 911 was told by dispatch, "I need you to step away from the scene, I can't hear you because of the screaming." Even other people's description of things doesn't jog a memory. I really did not hear it.

The interesting part of the accident - I was standing beside the vehicle when I saw Lissy underneath the car. When the car finished rolling, I was below Lissy in the driveway. I watched the car roll over Lissy, but I watched the car from head-on as it went backward, wondering what was happening to her. From where I was standing at the beginning and end, I should have seen every awful moment, but I didn't. I don't understand how that is possible, but I know that's what I saw. I don't remember it, but I told the friend that drove me to the hospital that I didn't see Lissy get rolled over, when I did. I don't know why I said that, besides that I did not see what I should have seen. All I know is I was right there, and that I remember what I was thinking as it was going over her (I can't stop the car now, because it's on top of her body, and that would be worse. I wonder if she can survive that?), and the image is not as graphic as it should be. This is a tender mercy I will be grateful for my whole life.

I marveled over and over while Lissy was at the hospital at how Heavenly Father has designed us. Mostly, Lissy's body is healing itself, and what doctors have done is provide support. They gave her high levels of oxygen support so that her bruised and punctured lungs wouldn't have to work very much while they healed themselves. They held her still while her brain and skull began to heal. They gave her hydration while she was unable to eat or drink by herself. They gave her plasma and blood while her body was dealing with a bleeding liver. We were told not to let her move while her bones healed. Our Father in Heaven has designed us to heal - it's incredible!

The Accident

Note: In order to acknowledge the hand of God, I feel it is important to write down what has happened. Other parts of the story will follow. (Originally posted 9/15/13, now re-dated to make posts fit chronologically)

I parked my mini-van in the barely-sloped driveway of my friend's house where preschool would be held that day. I was dropping off Andrew, but I also had a handful of things to give to my friend. I was explaining the various items, so Noah got out of the car and brought Lissy with him. When we went back outside, Noah hopped in the driver's side door, and Lissy climbed up after him. She looked at me and grinned. "Drive, drive," she said. I looked around to see if anybody else saw how cute that was, and then reached out to grab her and put her in her car seat.

Right as I went to grab Lissy, I saw another little family approaching preschool, with two little ones in a stroller. Their preschooler was saying he didn't want to go to preschool, and since I taught last week, I thought I would say a few words to comfort him. I took two steps away from Lissy, and, still right beside my vehicle, knelt down to talk to the boy. "You are going to have so much fun in preschool! I saw you smiling and laughing when we were singing songs and . . ." I was mid-sentence, and suddenly I saw a horrified look on the other mother's face and noticed that my van was rolling. My first thought was that their little 20-month old girl was going to be killed, so I tried to get those kids out of the way and/or stop the van. I have no idea what kind of assistance I was with that, but I remember feeling like those kids were safe, when all of the sudden I saw pink out of the corner of my eye. Lissy was under the van! I thought she'd already been run over (which turns out to not be true), and I wanted to save her from being run over again. I couldn't get to her, so I tried to stop the van. It wasn't working, and it started rolling over Lissy. I knew then that even if I could stop the van, I didn't want to while it was on top of Lissy, so I had to watch it roll over her. It felt like it took a very long time, as I sat there and waited to be able to see what had happened to her. After the van cleared her, I reached down towards her, but she did a little skid, and a large chunk of her hair was scraped into the road. I thought the back of her head had been scraped off and wondered if that had killed her.

This was all very quiet and slow to me. I have been told later that I was screaming, several others were screaming, and that it all happened in two blinks. One witness said, " . . .but the car was moving so fast . . ." I didn't hear any sounds at all.

My first thought was, "See if she's alive." I saw that her eyes were opened and she was covered in vomit, but   I didn't know what that meant. She started to cry, and I took that to be a good sign, and knelt down beside her, yelling, "Call 911, call 911!" (Why do you sound so hysterical, Emily? My calm inner voice asked.) I heard the call being made, and wanted to pick Lissy up, but knew I could injure her further by doing so. A friend who witnessed the whole thing stood beside me and soothingly coached me. "You're right, don't touch her," she said. I stroked Lissy's cheek, and felt so helpless watching her writhe on the driveway. I knelt down to pray, but the words wouldn't really come out. I sat beside Lissy thinking, "I know you're not supposed to touch accident victims, but if she's dying right now, I need to hold her. I need to hold her during her last few minutes." As I was anguishing over that decision, Lissy rolled over and tried to get up. She only got to her knees before she cried out in pain, and I heard my friend say, "Okay, hold her tight." That was one of the many tender mercies, I got to hold her. I remember thinking, "Why aren't I crying about this?" However, I have been told later that I actually was crying. One friend says the image of me crying while softly rocking Lissy in my arms was the most haunting image of the accident.

I wanted the ambulance there NOW, but it seemed like it was taking forever to get there. I knew Lissy had a chance to live since she was crying, but I also knew she could be hemorrhaging on the inside, and every cry could be her last. She just looked so limp and broken. One side of her face was completely red, and there was a distinct tire track down her face, so I knew her skull and brain had been run over. She looked so pale, and her lips were purple . . . why aren't they here now?! I kept thinking. A friend kept rubbing my back and saying, "She's crying, this is a good sign," and other comforting things. I heard sirens, and hope welled up, but when the car showed up it was from the Sheriff's department. No! I thought. Only the ambulance can save her. I have been told I said that to him in some form, but I was nice about it. As the sheriff knelt down beside her, he said into his radio, almost immediately, "We need a birdie in the sky." That brought me a small measure of relief - they weren't going to mess around, they were going to fly her straight to Primarys.

Lissy needed a priesthood blessing right away, I knew, but as I looked around the circle of onlookers, it was only women. I asked the bishop's wife if her husband was home, knowing the answer would be no before I asked. Suddenly, a man from our ward came running around the corner. The second I caught sight of him I asked him to give Lissy a blessing, and he came right to my side and did so. I don't remember anything about it, besides that she was blessed to recover, and when that was said, something at the back of my head told me thing would work out. I tried to cling to that inside, but my body kept reacting to the scene before me.

After what seemed to be the longest wait of my life, the ambulance and crew showed up. They took Lissy, and told me to sit in the driver's seat of my van. I sat down and knew I had to something to help my baby if she was going to make it off the life flight. Prayers - she needed as many as possible, right now. I picked up my phone and trembled out a text to the last 40 people I'd texted (the max it would let me). "Pray your hardest ever. Lissy has been run over by our van. Flying to Primarys." I felt the prayers almost immediately. Later, I heard stories of people's horrified feelings and immediate prayers. My brother-in-law was at work, and immediately got up, shut the door to his office, and dropped to his knees.

The next part is more of a blur than the other. A friend was telling me I needed a blessing, but I thought I was fine and just wanted to do something for Lissy. Later, I was told I was completely white, the comparison was made to a white hospital wall. The police were asking me questions, and I was doing my best to sound composed. The first question was my address, and I heard somebody say, "I don't know if she knows right now." I took a deep breath. I could tell them my address. And Lissy's name, birthdate, and approximate weight. Then, a piece of paper was put in front of my face. "I know this is a hard time, but we need a statement from you." I shakily started writing, "baby was in the driver's seat . . ." "I can't do this," I said. "Can somebody else do this?" The paper was taken away from me, and later I found out that a friend tried her best to write as I frantically walked back and forth trying to describe what happened. I guess I said I put Lissy in the driver's seat, which is why the news reported that later. It doesn't make much of a difference, but I definitely know she climbed herself, because I remember specifically the part where I looked around to  see if anybody else had noticed what a cute stinker she was.

The police were recommending that someone else drive me to Salt Lake. I didn't feel incapable of driving (although I obviously was), but a friend immediately said she was driving me. Her kids were already taken care of. The police then tried to ask me what my plans were for my other kids. I looked at the crowd of onlookers, and knew that any one of them would take care of my boys for the day, and they would work it out amongst themselves, I didn't even have to ask. So, I said, "They're taken care of." I think the police thought I was talking out of my shock-induced state. They asked again, what plans needed to be made for my other children. I just pointed at the circle of wonderful people and said again, "They're taken care of." What an amazing feeling it was to be able to do that with confidence. What an amazing neighborhood.

As my friend led me away from the scene, I looked back at where Lissy had been before she was put on the ambulance, and I saw her pink shirt, cut down the middle, lying on the ground. A little below that were several large chunks of her hair. That was the closest I came to crying (or knowing I was crying), when I saw that.

I was led into a house, where two brethren were prepared to give me a blessing. I was blessed that I wouldn't feel guilt or responsibility about the accident, which at the time I didn't think a lot of, but became a huge issue just a few hours later. I could always look back on that blessing when searching for comfort. One of the sisters gave me a hug before I got in the car, and it was so comforting, I went for another one. By the time I was in a car heading out of the neighborhood, it was just in time to watch the Life Flight helicopter lift into the sky, turn around, and head towards Salt Lake with my baby. I stuck my head out the window and asked the EMTs still on the scene if she was still conscious. She was.

I had to stop at my house to grab my I.D. and a bra (let that be a lesson to you all), but I couldn't leave town without letting Noah know I loved him. I knew he'd seen the whole thing, and that he is smart enough to know what made the car go. We'd seen after the ambulance arrived that Noah had put the keys in the ignition (didn't start the engine), and put the van in neutral, which is what made it roll. Our van is apparently one model year too old to have the safety feature where you have to press on the brake to shift. At one point before the ambulance arrived and I was cradling Lissy on my lap, I suddenly noticed Noah behind my shoulder. I scolded him for messing with the car, then immediately felt bad and kissed his cheek, telling him what a good boy he is. However, as he walked away from the scene with friends, he held his head down, dejectedly. So, on my way out of town, I stopped to love my Noah. I hugged and kissed him and told him I loved him. He didn't say a single word to me, but my teary friend who had him at her house reassured me he would be doing fun things, so I gave him one last squeeze and left.

I see how long this is, and want to go back and write more about the accident and the moments before the ambulance came - those are the moments that seemed like forever. Those are the images that replay over and over in my head. How do I fully capture what it was to hold my bloodied and broken little girl, or to describe the intense need I felt to get her care that could save her? How do I express what it was to wonder if this was the last I'd be with her on earth? I've hardly been able to cry about this accident, but right now I can hardly breathe. After her blessing I felt that Lissy would recover, but . . . but everything. The things my mind worried about and what I had seen and experienced were still human. As we drove to Salt Lake, I remember joking about silly stories where we forgot to wear a bra, and also talking to my mom and Gary's mom. I didn't feel jittery inside. However, I have been told it's good that I don't remember the ride to Primarys because I'd periodically mention something like life flights often crash. I tried to get a hold of Gary right before we got to the hospital so I'd know what to expect when I got inside, but no answer. So, I just walked inside and said, "My daughter just came in on Life Flight."

Disclaimer: Not her life flight, a picture of another red life flight helicopter, taken from tmcnews.org.

Read the next part, Miracles.

When Lissy Got Sick. Really, Really Sick.

Note: This is not about our current situation. This was a year and a half ago. I haven't had internet access except these few moments, and spend most of my time comforting an extremely miserable little girl right now, but I do spend a lot of time thinking about the magnitude of the blessings I've seen lately. I wrote this a while back and never posted because I never finished subsequent posts. So, I'll post it now, and re-date it later. I just wanted to show - miracles happen, they happen constantly, and although hard things happen, we are supported in all our trials.

By the way - in the last few minutes I have seen messages of hope, faith, prayer, and love directed at our family. I can't comprehend it, it's so amazing. Although I am weary, I am beyond grateful. Ok, enough stealing time in the Ronald McDonald family room, back to take care of the babe! I hope one day I will be able to document it all for Lissy to see what a special girl she is, how great is the goodness of God, and how wonderful the world is.

2/27/12

I don't know if it's possible to fully realize the incredible miracle of snuggling your sweet baby girl to sleep until you haven't been able to for two weeks. Or to treasure a smile and a giggle so much until you wondered if you would ever see it again. I have always loved and enjoyed Elisabeth, but now I am in absolute awe of her, and how amazing it is to kiss her cheek without a mask in the way, or to pick her up and not have her be on a short leash of tubes and wires. Her poor hands and feet have  bruises from the many I.V. sites, and neither one of us yet feels healthy, but here she is, breathing on her own, in our house, in my arms. Just eleven pounds of baby girl all snuggled up in pink fleece jammies, the answer to eleven million prayers. Thank you, Father. Thank you.
(I was bawling when I wrote this. Things were so crazy I didn't have time to write any more, but my heart was very, very full.)

3/25/12

In some ways I say, "All's well that ends well," regarding having Lissy in the hospital last month. And while that's true, I know that I went through so many experiences during that time that made me feel like I'd learned so much, that I don't know how well it ends if I don't remember the lessons. So this may be the longest post ever. But that's okay, our little family needs it. So . . .

Back to the beginning . . .

Our little family had been sniffling and coughing for most of February. Not any huge deal, but we hadn't been getting enough sleep due to the hearings-for-the-band-that-wants-to-drum-babies-out-of-bed-at-6-a.m., and also lack of Gary. He had been working especially long hours, 80 or more a week, like he does every winter. The sickness wasn't enough to keep us from visiting Preston for my sister's birthday, (One of the last times before the big move . . .another topic, but it was weird. Just had to not think about it.), but it was enough to slow us down. With enough humidifiers going, lemon tea, and albuterol, we were making it. We even thought we were better! We went to a ward party Friday night (the 10th), and after having a fun time went to bed thinking everything was just grand. But then I woke up in the middle of the night with body aches. I got up and took some medicine and then curled down in my covers as many different ways as I could to make myself go back to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I still felt yucky, but meds could control it. But Gary felt yucky, Josh's cough was worse, Andrew had a yucky nose, and Lissy had a fever. Sick day.

That night in the middle of the night Lissy started working harder to breathe and her cough (which she had had for a couple of days) was even yuckier. At 3 a.m. she couldn't sleep and I was worried about her. She wasn't struggling enough to be taken to the E.R., but enough that I couldn't rest. Gary gave her a blessing, and in it she was blessed to recover fully. We all felt well enough to sleep for the rest of the night.

The next morning was Sunday. Noah had a talk to give in Primary, his first (SO cute, I want to write more about that), and I'd said I would sit in on his class, so since he was the only well-child and I could feel okay when drugged, just the two of us went to church together. Aside from that good memory, the rest of the day is a fog of sickness. I worried about Lissy's fever getting worse and worse, but I couldn't find a thermometer to measure it. She spent most of the day with her onsie unbuttoned so that I could lift it up and look at her chest to see how her breathing was going. I was feeling worse and worse myself, so much so that my voice was almost totally gone by the time I called around for a thermometer. My friend felt bad for us and brought us dinner, which was heaven-sent. I tried to read books to my boys, and Josh kept saying, "Cough, mom!" because he couldn't hear what I was saying. I kept thinking the entire day that I would need to take Lissy to urgent care, but since I've had kids with breathing trouble so much, I knew she wasn't to the point yet where they would do anything besides tell me to use a humidifier and Tylenol. As the day wore on her appetite got worse, but when she finally fell asleep in the evening, she seemed so peaceful I decided to just let her rest. Though not without first calling my dad to make sure she would wake up if she were in severe respiratory distress.

That night was pretty awful. When Lissy finally woke up, it was too late (1 or 2 a.m.) to go to urgent care or to call anyone, but not bad enough to take her to the E.R. She kind of tried to eat, but didn't really eat much, then just cried her pitiful cry and coughed her nasty cough. I couldn't let her be alone in bed, I had to know she was okay, so I slept on my side with Lissy in the crook of my arm. Gary woke up to go to work around 6 a.m., and Lissy woke up, too. She acted hungry, but when I tried to feed her, she wouldn't eat. That's when I was absolutely sure I would take her to the doctor the second I got a chance. The distance between 6 and 8 o' clock seemed like eternity.

I finally got Lissy back to sleep, but I got ready for the day so I could leave the minute I needed to. I got an appointment with our pediatrician for 9:15, but even though I was worried about Lissy, I wasn't thinking it would be too dramatic. My friend offered to watch Noah and Andrew, but I decided to take them with me thinking that if they went somewhere else they would only share our diseases. My other kids have all had RSV and/or other brochiolitic viruses, and though they got pretty sick, it was nothing that couldn't be treated with a doctor's visit or two, along with a lot of home TLC. When Lissy woke up I heard Noah in by her bed singing her, "Hey, soul sister, ain't that Mister Mister on the radio . . ." She wouldn't quit crying all morning, but when I was running around doing things I came back to find Lissy on Noah's lap, with him rocking and singing, "I am a Child of God." I offered to feed her about every 10 minutes all morning, but she refused to even try to latch on.

At the doctor's office she started out with all of the normal stuff - weight, temperature, oxygen saturation . . . and that was a problem. Her sats were moving between 85 and 89, which isn't scary low, but too low for a little baby to just go home. Instead of telling me to wait for the doctor, the M.A. went and got the doctor to come straight in. The other big problem was that her respirations were 96 per minute, which I didn't have a frame of reference for before, but after living for two weeks with that being the most important stat of my life, I know that is very, very fast. The doctor said Lissy would need to go to the hospital for an 8 hour observation before we could go home, especially since the RSV test was positive. She gave me the option of Primary Children's or Mountain West Medical Center, which is our local hospital. I have had some interesting experiences with Mountain West, so I chose Primary's. I called my friend to come get Noah and Andrew, and when she came she brought me some snacks that turned out to be a life-saver.

When I returned to the room after saying good-bye to my boys, the M.A. was telling some paramedics on the phone to take Lissy to Mountain West. What? I was surprised, and when I asked about it she said, "Mountain West is fine, my kids have been there. " I said, "Mine have too, and it can be fine, but I'm just not sure." I didn't want to be a drama queen, you know, that lady who has to go to Primary's, so I said ok. But when the paramedics came and asked where they were taking us, the

9/23

I never had a chance to finish this story. I've thought and worried about not doing it a lot, but always think it's better to keep current on what we're doing so I don't get further behind. Then today was the Brigham City temple dedication. It was amazing. So powerful at so many moments. One impression I got was that I need to finish writing this. Coming back to it I am amazed at how many details I have forgotten, and feel sad I didn't write things earlier. But, all I can do is my best at this moment, so here goes . . .

So, when the paramedics came and asked where they were taking us, the M.A. said "Mountain West." But I couldn't feel great about it. I mentioned that we had discussed Primary's, and they told me they'd take us anywhere. It seemed like 10 people were staring at me and the world was in slow motion. It was probably only 5, but still . . . suddenly the doctor came into the room and saw the dilemma. She calmly and cheerfully said, "Why don't we just send you to Primary's?" I will always be thankful to her for that, as not only did it really help in the moment, but it turned out to be an inspired decision.

The ride in the ambulance was uneventful, besides the fact that, um, yeah, I was in an ambulance with my baby. They actually had her ride in her carseat on the stretcher. She had oxygen flowing the entire time, and with it her sats were fine and she seemed to feel much better. I was tired and had a foggy sick-head, but I spent the entire time letting people know what was going on. Yes, that picture I just texted you was Lissy in her carseat in an ambulance.

Lissy's ambulance adventure . . . she actually felt much better at this point due to the oxygen.

 By the time we arrived at the hospital, I almost felt stupid that we were there. Lissy was doing so well with the oxygen that you could tell nobody was very concerned. Once they got the full story, though, they became worried about the fact she hadn't eaten in a long time. The nurse asked me to try to nurse Lissy, so I tried again. Lissy wouldn't even try to latch on. Crazy thing is, as I write this, I can remember exactly what the nurse looked like - tall, probably early 40's, really nice . . . everyone there was really nice . . . anyway, the nurse said that sometimes nursing is too much work for babies, and had me try a bottle of Pedialyte, just to hydrate her. She wasn't having it. I think at that point it was determined that she would need an I.V. to get her hydrated. The nurse tried to start it, but couldn't find a vein, so they called in the I.V. team. That was a trip. The I.V. team came in, turned off the lights, and used an ultraviolet light to find a vein. With the I.V. in and a nasal cannula smoothly delivering the oxygen, Lissy relaxed, and I realized I felt awful. Being introduced to the hospital grade breast pump helped me feel better, as did my friend's snacks that had been saving me all day, but at some point I needed ibuprofen and food. The E.R. doctor that was helping Lissy got me some meds, and the nurses volunteered to hold Lissy while I got something to eat.

Before things got dramatic, it was fun to take pictures of the events. Here she is getting all warmed up  for her I.V. insertion.

The nurse called this hot packs (I.V. prep) Lissy's boxing gloves.

Normally my first reaction would be to tell Gary to come running to us, and Gary's first reaction would be to come, but this was near the end of the legislative session . . . no running to us for Gary. He had a huge meeting he was in charge of the next day, and this whole thing seemed manageable in the beginning. I was in charge of a Valentine's Day party for preschool the next day, and I already had it planned, so I thought I'd just finish throwing it together when we got home that evening . . . yeah, I really thought that. At some point we were told Lissy would need to stay overnight for observation, but just in the "rapid transition unit." I only spent an afternoon/evening there, but I love the rapid transition unit. The (male) nurse we had was so awesome. He made sure I had a place to lie down, snacks as much as I needed them, and slipped me medicine when it was obvious I needed it. That little bed they made me looked sooooo good, and I looked forward to getting some rest. Except that Lissy couldn't rest. She screamed unless she was held, and kind of lightly fussed even though she was in my arms. I normally love a chance to sit and snuggle my sweet baby, but she wasn't relaxed, she was hooked up to tubes and wires, and my head and throat were feeling worse by the second . . .and then the cavalry arrived.

My sweet mama walked in and immediately took baby Lissy. She let me lie down, and even go out and use the phone. Aaah . . . But still, no rest. The doctor that came in to check on Lissy noted that she seemed to be struggling a little bit too much to breathe, and said that if she couldn't breathe a little easier, she might tire out and stop. The way to help this problem, she said, is to go to Intensive Care and be placed on high flow oxygen, which is an entirely different delivery system for oxygen that actually blows the air in with such force it forces the lungs to inflate. I hadn't been very concerned about Lissy's outcome, but when I considered the meaning of being sent to the ICU, I had a little mini-moment of deep concern. It quickly went away, though. I had my dad call me in an antibiotic for my sinus infection/bronchitis, and earnestly looked forward to the next week when the whole experience would be behind us.

Gary arrived at the hospital in the evening, and my mom went home to take care of the boys . . . including making Valentines for their class parties the next day. Gary got ice cream, and we enjoyed being together as the ICU question was tossed around. Finally around 11 p.m. the doctor came in, saw Lissy's work of breathing had become worse, and said, "Let's do it." As we made the move, we were introduced to a whole new round of doctors and nurses, something that would eventually become routine. The respiratory therapist that was assigned to admit Lissy to intensive care was amusing. We stopped to get her a chest x-ray on our way, and she did NOT like it. The RT said, "Well, we probably shouldn't let her fill out a comment card." It was very surprising to see how many doctors and nurses were required to admit one little babe to the ICU . . . I met attendings, fellows, residents, therapists . . . There were masses of them standing around her hospital bed, and at one point someone said, "Ready?" Everyone picked up notebooks and pens. "Okay, this is Elisabeth, who presented at the clinc . . . " They all wrote it.

Super-sick babe, right before her transfer to the ICU. You can see that already the I.V. fluids had made her extremely swollen if you compare this picture to the ones I took when she first arrived. I think I took this picture with the thought I'd show it to the boys, though my picture-taking mood was largely past.

The transfer to the pediatric intensive care unit at Primary Children's is one of the many signs that the Lord was watching out for baby Elisabeth. Primary's is the children's hospital for 5 states, and had she gone anywhere else, she would have been life-flighted to Primary's that evening. While that could have merely been extra drama, it could have been scary complications. This girl went from looking border-line ok to being in the intensive care on 8 liters of high-flow oxygen (the highest it will go) in a short period of time. I will be forever grateful we were already at Primary's.

By the time things were settled down - around midnight - I was feeling horrible. My voice could barely scratch out a sentence, my throat was on fire, and my head was pounding. There was nothing but a chair next to Lissy's new bed in the ICU, but I knew I had to be there for my baby. Then the nurse, Liz, came up to me and said, "So, you seem like you're really sick. I know it's hard to leave your baby, I would have a hard time with it, too, but if I were you, that's what I'd do. You need rest to take care of her." Leave my baby in the intensive care?! Yes, person after person told me I should. She had one on one attention now. I was so sick I went along with it, and let Gary lead me to the car. I vowed to be there at 8 a.m. sharp the next morning when they started letting people in. How did I get home that night? Definitely Gary driving, but the whole memory goes off after I left baby Lissy hooked up to high-flow oxygen in intensive care.