I haven’t been able to put words together for blogging the last few days. The 12th was the one year mark of everything going wrong. It’s the day my son died, in the sense that we knew he’d never again be who he was. Even if he lived, the lovie that we knew was gone. It’s been a few days of wide swinging emotions, but today was lovely. We met with another family whom we met a year ago in the PICU when their little girl came in. We’ve both sadly found ourselves on the same path of navigating life after the sudden, tragic death of a child. I take comfort in the thought of Brookie and Bub playing in heaven. I just hate that we met under these circumstances, but feel blessed to know her lovely family.
Many of my thoughts and feelings right now are very raw and personal. I hope to formulate them into something helpful, but for now, I’ll share my complete journal entry from a year ago. I’ve come back to this journal entry many times over the last year. I’ve had some very dark times, difficult days, and I’m so very grateful for the inspiration to grab a notebook and write the things in my heart starting while we were in Iowa City. Heavenly Father spoke to me and I knew I’d need these words, for one reason or another, and I listened. I had no idea how close heaven was and I don’t think I wanted to acknowledge it, but it’s clear to see now how we were able to find so much peace and comfort as we began this trial. As life has moved on and the world swirls around us, it has been harder to feel that same spirit, but these early journal entries help. I’m pretty sure I’ve shared it before, but it’s especially meaningful as we move through our hell week.
December 13, 2014-late
Brig and I got here [University of Iowa Children’s Hospital] at 4AM and Caleb at 4:30. His tests are indicating brain damage and he’s being kept hypothermic. My emotions have been all over. He’s received two blessing and Brig and I have each had one. We’re blessed to have amazing friends who have stepped up with the kids at home, so we can stay with him.
Through this all, I have come to more fully understand some things and really want to remember this. I know, with all my soul, that we are not our bodies. The broken little body in the bed nest to me is merely a mortal vessel for who he is. He’s an energetic, bouncy, happy, sneaky ray of sunshine. He is his spirit. That is always whole. Caleb is not a brain injury. I also know that Christ lives and loves me. I know he is playing and running with Bubba while I can’t. Caleb is in His care and I know the Lord will keep him safe while his body does what our Father desires. I do not know what the future holds, but I don know that the Lord is with us, that He lives, and that families can and will be forever. I testify of these things.