October 6th SB Awareness - Toby's Trach and a Big Decision

Toby was doing fairly well with his trach, but he would still have really long pauses in his breathing, especially when he was asleep:

He also got really puffy, and they had to put him on lasix to get rid of his extra fluids.

On February 12th, Toby had his fifth surgery in six weeks.  This time it was for a feeding tube or g-tube. We were really hoping he could be fed into his stomach, but...just when we thought things were becoming stable, curve ball after curve ball was thrown our way.  The night after g-tube surgery, he coded again around 2:00 a.m. - turned blue and gave his Grandma Holt quite a scare.  We still aren't sure what happened, but I rushed to the hospital right away, and they put him back on ventilator support.  A few days later, after a bolus (large amount) of milk into his g-tube, he began to act strangely - lethargic.  Fearful he had aspirated or had an infection, they ordered a bunch of labs, blood cultures, etc.  Only to discover his IV was gone, and after trying five times to put an IV in, they settled on a tiny one in his head.  This would hold them over until he could go back under for a PICC line.

Sometimes when you are living day in and day out in the ICU - you start to lose all sense of reality, and that was definitely the case for us. I just wanted some sense of normalcy - whatever "normal" might be.  God was continually asking me, "Do you trust me?"  "You know I trust you, Lord."  But, I certainly felt like Thomas, "I believe, please help my unbelief."  Josh Wilson released a song last year called "They Just Believe" that goes perfectly with that passage of scripture, and describes how we have often felt on this journey.  You can find it here.

At this point, the PICU doctors began to plan that Toby would be on a trach mask (see middle and right photos above) when he was awake, and just need the ventilator while sleeping.  On February 20th, Toby was FINALLY stable enough to move out of the ICU and to the step-down pulmonary floor.  We were ecstatic.  He had been in the PICU around a month, and it felt wonderful to have a room with a bathroom in it - and windows.  Oh yes, what are those?  (This was before hospital renovations)

This is one of my absolute favorite photos of Toby in the hospital. After many weeks of holding onto life by a thread, he began to do normal baby things, like sit in his bouncy seat.

Then, one of the hardest realities hit us square in the face.  After reviewing Toby's entire medical history thus far and his sleep study, the doctors felt that Toby needed to go home on a ventilator 24/7. It's wasn't completely unfamiliar because of being around Evan, but it was definitely not what we hoped for.  They said even when he was awake and breathing, his breaths weren't deep enough, and this put him at great risk for pneumonia.  What happened if he got sick?  He would end up right back in the hospital. When, the pulmonary fellow broke the news that day; I sat there and cried.  One thing that I have learned on this journey is when you are raising a child with special needs you live on a grief continuum.  In the beginning when you first learn the news you are in denial and angry...then the full force of grief hits - mourning the changes in your life, mourning what your child has lost. After awhile, healing comes and there's acceptance and you learn a new type of normal.  Then, you have those days when something changes, perhaps it's a surgery or another diagnosis.  Perhaps it's just watching all the other kids at the playground run around and play when your child can only watch - and the grief slaps you in the face again.  I have learned not to fight this cycle, but to roll with it.  I have learned that grieving through our circumstances brings healing and yes even joy.  I've also learned that when I hold it all inside, and I don't grieve - it will come back and bite me in the bum (as my kids like to say) and the littlest thing will send me sobbing to my room.

It's always interesting for me to see this picture of Toby - his little tiny body and that heavy ventilator tubing.  

Toby loved his pacifier very much!  He also loved sleeping with his arm out or over his head.

Finally, we began to make plans to bring our medically fragile bundle of joy home.  God was every faithful - with us every step of the way.  One Sunday morning, Bruce and I were able to attend church together and the choir sang this song:  "Bow the Knee"  I'll end today's post with the words (Click on song to hear it):
May the journey we are on encourage you to draw closer to God; He is all we need...He has been guiding us every step of the way.

Bow the Knee

There are moments on our journey following the Lord
where God illumines every step we take
There are times when circumstances make perfect sense to us as we try to understand each move He makes When the path grows dim and our questions have no answers turn to him

Chorus
Bow the Knee
Trust the heart of your Father
When the answer goes beyond what you can see
Bow the Knee
Lift your eyes towards Heaven
and believe the One who holds eternity
and when you don't understand, the purpose of His plan
in the presence of the king, Bow the Knee

Verse 2
There are days when clouds surround us and the rain begins to fall
the cold and lonely winds wont cease to blow
And there seems to be no reason for the suffering we feel
We are tempted to believe God does not know 
when the storms arise, don't forget we live by faith and not by sight