Leah's first photo shoot

Thanks to Heather and fashion consultant Tara!
(She is 7 1/2 weeks old in these pictures)

18 months ago ...

18 months ago today, we left Daniel's body on a hospital bed and walked away without him.

As with almost every big life event, I suppose, it both feels like it was a different lifetime ago, and impossible that so much time has passed.

I don't have much profound to say -- I know, there's so much I haven't said, so much I could say; The marvelous gift of Leah, the sweet one-year memorial/birthday party our friends hosted for us, new friends who never had the privilege of knowing Daniel, new family members, finally getting a tombstone, and just how life goes on and school and growing kids and all the other things that make up a good life -- but here is, finally, the link to the movie of Daniel's funeral.  (The first 20 minutes or so were cut off due to a technical glitch.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAK-iusYoPg&feature=youtu.be

Special News!

(I finally got around to getting rid of the previous ticker, at 47+ weeks pregnant, lol!)

In Memory of Daniel (a repost from Google+)

It has been brought to my attention that some who follow my blog don't follow my Google+.  Which means they're missing out on ... not much ;-)  But there was one post in particular that I would like to share with all who may have missed it.  The post I wrote on the 6-monthiversary of Daniel's passing.  To you who have not seen this yet and wanted to and have been waiting for <cough, cough> three months, I apologize.  And thanks for the encouragement to start blogging again.  Maybe.

(originally posted) November 25, 2014

"" 

This last week has been hard for me, at least harder than some others.  I did the math on how long it's been, and then would randomly remember, like I did at church on Sunday.  "It'll be 6 months on Tuesday ... and Daniel will never know these wonderful people ... and they'll never get to see him grow up ... and neither will I ... " and I would start to cry for no (obvious) reason.  And the time I was walking around Walmart crying as I shopped (maybe someone needed to see me crying for their own healing that day, let's hope, lol).  Or the time I almost broke down on the orthodontist just because I remembered that the first time I brought Nathan to an orthodontist I had had all four kids with me.  Anyway, life goes on, and it's mostly happy.  The Lord has been so good to us, beyond doubt.  We're so thankful for all He Has given us.  But, in honor of this 6 month anniversary of The Hardest Goodbye, I wanted to share my written account of the experience.

 https://docs.google.com/document/d/1O8qW3xDOypTHhmuRn5cVCk1pqmDHKhGwe8vGv98A_U8/edit?usp=sharing

PS Thanks, Muth, for helping me write that sooner rather than later, I'm so glad I did.

~~~~~~

(I have gone ahead and added it here so you don't need to follow the link. I don't feel so bad about having a long blog post as I did about having a crazy long google+ post. But warning, it is long.)

~~~~~~~

On Saturday morning, May 24 2014, there were 13 children at our “Coleman commune”.  David and Chastidy Berg had arrived for the weekend with their five children. We had been invited upstairs for breakfast, so, not having regular breakfast duties, I decided to run some errands.  While I was at Rona looking for oil paint, 12 of the children (Anna was sleeping in that morning) got into the hot tub before breakfast and had a wonderful time.  I was home shortly after 9:00, and after talking to Susan about breakfast plans was downstairs in the kitchen to watch them all climb out about 9:15.  Kate helped Daniel out. (I was afraid she was going to drop him! But he slid down her legs without falling.) I grabbed a towel and went outside, wrapped up Daniel and carried him in. As I was dressing him for the day, he walked over to the sweater bucket and picked a sweater for himself to wear, as he always did when he wanted to go outside.  It was the blue sweater I had knitted for Nathan three-ish years earlier.  Although it was way too big, I rolled up the sleeves and let him go.  I continued working around the house, and out of the corner of my eye noticed him slip out the back door.  It might have been about 9:30 when Daniel climbed up the stepstool to the hot tub and crawled back in.  I continued vacuuming and doing laundry, not going to the kitchen window again.  At almost 10:00, Steve went outside to replace the hot tub cover and saw something floating in the water.  His first thought was that it was a large doll, but then he realized to his terror that it was a child.  He didn’t know which boy it was, but he grabbed him out, hysterically yelling, “Oh, no!  No! Oh, no!”   I heard Steve’s cries, but couldn’t tell if he were laughing or crying. I came from the bedroom where I’d woken up Jeff to look out the kitchen window, saw the soggy blue sweater-covered weight in his arms and immediately knew what had happened ...  Steve dashed past Grampa, who had come out of his shed when he heard the yells, and headed up the steps to his house, where he dropped Daniel’s limp form on the kitchen table.  I loudly gasped, “Dear God, No!” (there was the conscious thought that it was loud enough that Jeff would hear it) and was upstairs in seconds.  Dave and Chastidy had already started CPR, and Susan and I herded the children out of the kitchen. Steve’s cell phone wouldn’t work because the surface had gotten wet, so I got Steve and Susan’s home phone and called the paramedics. I went into Matthew’s bedroom to talk to them, but when requested by the dispatchers, reluctantly went back to the kitchen.  I didn’t think I would be able to keep talking coherently if standing next to Daniel, but with God’s help I managed to stand there and tried to relay to Dave and Chastidy the dispatcher’s too-quick instructions.  I don’t remember hearing sirens or being aware of anyone coming into the house and up the stairs.  I just remember the numb relief of being able to tell the dispatcher that the paramedics had arrived and, coming around me, were taking over.  Putting the phone back into its cradle.  Starting to have a meltdown.  Susan coming over to give me a hug.  

When Jeff heard the yells, and then my desperate plea, he realized something was seriously wrong.  He got up, got dressed and came into the foyer.  From the top of the stairs Steve gasped to him, “Daniel’s drowned.”  Jeff’s anguished face seared itself on Steve’s brain as Jeff retreated to his bedroom and fell to his knees to beg for God’s mercy.  Minutes later he came upstairs into the kitchen and again dropped to his knees, crying, “Oh God, not Daniel . . . please, God, not Daniel!”  When he came upstairs I was still on the phone with 9-1-1. Others saw the horrible anguish on his face and will never forget, but I didn’t dare look at him – I needed to keep going.  Outside, Grampa directed traffic. The first paramedics arrived about 6 minutes after the call, and took over attempts at resuscitation, shooing all of us out to the living room.  Vehicles continued arriving until there were at least 5 emergency vehicles in the street, with about a dozen paramedics, including an advanced life support team. I know I was impressed with the quick, professional response, but didn’t count heads or anything!  I don’t remember much of that time, other than breathing deeply trying to smother the inner sobs, while watching the many, many backs around the kitchen table.  Grampa came upstairs during that time.  I was sitting next to Jeff and vaguely tried to comfort him, but my focus was in the kitchen ...  Others prayed for a miracle.  Perhaps my faith was not enough, but I couldn’t pray that.  I’m sure I knew He could, but maybe I didn’t want to be wrong and haply be found fighting against God.  I still hadn’t touched Daniel, and strangely don’t remember wanting to.  I knew that the way I could be most helpful at the time was to stay out of the way and let the professionals do their job.  I remember feeling ridiculously calm at times, almost detached.  Able to answer any questions rationally.  Directing Steve on exactly where to find Daniel’s care card.  I knew the calm couldn’t last, but what good was it to cry yet?  In the bedroom where the children had all gone, Abigail put on a CD of hymns, and Josiah began reading the Scriptures aloud, starting at Psalm 23.   A half a dozen police officers showed up as well and after we had left individually questioned all the adults and older children about what had happened.

When the paramedics still didn’t have a heartbeat at 10:30, they decided to transport Daniel to the Surrey Memorial Hospital.  There was room for only one other family member in the ambulance with the paramedics, so Jeff and I decided to come later and stay together.  We grabbed a couple granola bars, and a policeman, D. Smith, drove us to the hospital.  Sitting in the back, leaning on each other, encouraging each other that God is in control and fully powerful enough to work a miracle.  Sending texts to some family members, letting them know that Daniel had drowned, was still unresuscitated, and to please pray.  A line from a song kept running through my head, “He gives and takes away, He gives and takes away ... Blessed be the name of the Lord ...”  At the hospital Jeff and I were individually asked to give our statements as well.  I worried about that a little.  I knew it wasn’t Jeff’s fault – he was sleeping – but would they think it was mine?  I didn’t think so, and I didn’t feel (yet) that I was to blame, but still ...  At the time, I still thought it had only been 10 minutes or a little more that Daniel had been unaccounted for.

The medical team there was finally able to get Daniel’s heart beating again (around 11:00?), and they decided to transfer him to Vancouver Hospital. I don’t know if I’d had hope of his recovery at all before, but this provided the first reason to hope.  “Where there’s life, there’s hope” Jeff and I told each other. While we were waiting, Jeff and I were able to sit next to him and hold his hands.  He had a bowel movement at the hospital, which we considered a good sign. The nurses did not have a diaper handy, but I’m a mom and always carry one in my purse.  I gladly gave it to them to use for Daniel. (Not until later did we learn that this was a bad sign because the odor showed that his body was sloughing off lining.) With a warming blanket under him and with his heart beating, his color was back, so other than tubes everywhere, he felt and looked like he was sleeping.  The nurse said they would probably sedate him for the transfer, so that he wouldn’t wake up and start tugging tubes out. Dave and Heather came, willing to drive us to Vancouver (the police officer stuck around, willing to do the same, until they showed up ... wow!) and Steve and Susan came with a small suitcase packed for us.  Even though we had originally told them not to bother coming, because there was nothing that could be done, it was so, so good to see them all!

About 1:30, they brought him to Vancouver Children’s Hospital, and this time I went in the ambulance with Daniel.  The driving paramedic asked if I had any questions.  “No,” I answered, “except the ones you can’t answer: will he make it?  What kind of brain damage should I expect?”  I was able to go right in with Daniel and sit nearby while they were making their assessment.  Jeff, with Dave and Heather, had still not showed up when the doctor in charge, Dr. Mary Bennet, came over after the assessment and told me that they had not sedated him for the transfer, and there had been absolutely no response to any stimuli, including pain, for 4 hours and that “the prognosis is very bad.” Jeff arrived at 2:40, 40 minutes after I did, just as they were starting the insertion of a central line.  Phil Bryant from Community of Hope showed up at the same time.  When I went out to let Jeff in, he asked if anything had happened.  “No, nothing.  Nothing!  He’s not responding to anything, light, or pain! and they didn’t sedate him for the transfer! and ...”  A social worker immediately directed us to a waiting room, where we had to wait for 3½ long hours while they continued to try to insert the central line.  That way all 12 (or something like that ... crazy many!) medications could be dripped into the one port.  Dave and Heather stayed with us for a while, and Phil helped distract us all by asking about our courtships and families.  After Phil had left, when D&H were leaving, Jeff went out with Dave to get something and I allowed myself to really cry on Heather for (what I consider) the first time.  “You’re a nurse, Heather” I cried, “you know the prognosis!”  But she wouldn’t commit to knowing any such thing.

After they left and we were still waiting, we spent some time pondering the attributes of God that Jeff had recently heard Chip Ingraham talk on; that this was allowed, not an oversight on God’s part, because He’s all-knowing; this wasn’t too much for God to handle, because He’s all-powerful; this is the best plan for our lives, because He infinitely loves us; etc.  We also enjoyed listening to some worship music, some of which had been running through my head for the last several hours, particularly “Blessed Be Your Name” and “Our God”.  I called Muth (my nickname for my mom), finally, and she asked if she should come out.  As at the beginning to Steve and Susan my initial response was ‘Why? there is no practical help that humans can give’ but she knew better and immediately started coming anyway.  Hurray for Moms!  We finally couldn’t handle sitting anymore, and, after stopping by the ICU to make sure they hadn’t forgotten us, went on a walk around the hospital.  While we were out we met Steve and Susan who were coming to visit.  We spent quite a while talking to them outside.  It was nice, but I was so jittery I literally couldn’t stand still and was bouncing in place the whole time.  After half an hour we wandered back in, but they still weren’t letting us in to see Daniel.  Not too long afterward we were allowed back into the PICU room at last.  Dr. Bennett gave us basically the same assessment she had given me earlier that afternoon, except now, obviously, it had been twice as long that there had been absolutely no responses.  Jeff, who was just now seeing Daniel for the first time since we’d left the Surrey hospital, noticed that Daniel’s head was colder than his toes and asked why.  Dr. Bennett, both kind and totally honest, said that this showed there was no blood flow ... his body knew that his brain no longer needed anything.  “You had a little boy who loved you this morning,” she stated.  She said that tests would be run the next day to confirm that he was brain dead. “And then we will have to decide to take him off life support?” I asked.  “Yes.”

We had left the children at home with Steve and Susan.  When they came to the hospital in Surrey, and then Vancouver, all the children were in David and Chastidy’s care. Aunt Kathryn, Josh and Emily stopped by later that evening (Uncle Paul was in the Okanagan and came back the next morning).  Tom and Marcus Janovsky stopped by to pray for Daniel.  Heather and Tim visited.  Kathryn from CoH stopped by just to drop off some food.  Wayne and Kasia (having been on vacation in the Kootenays) showed up about 8, and stayed through the night.  We felt overwhelmed with love and care.

The doctor talked to me about organ donation and Jeff and I tentatively wanted to do it, but we never got a chance to discuss the issue in depth because Daniel’s body started shutting down sooner than anticipated.   About 10, right after Steve and Susan had headed back home, the doctor informed us that there was significant fluid retention and the heart couldn't keep up pumping blood with the extra fluid. If we had been determined to do organ donation, they would have had to cut open his abdomen and put on plastic sheeting to allow expansion so that he could stay alive longer. The doctor did not recommend that, and we quite agreed!  Dr. Bennett said she would try to keep him alive another 24 hours until Muth arrived Lord's Day at 11:30 p.m.  However, they weren’t even sure Daniel would stay alive through Saturday night, so we called Steve and Susan, asking them to head back with the kids as soon as they got home.  David and Chastidy came back with them, rousing, dressing and bringing all the children (except Matthew, for whom they got a babysitter).  Grampa came as well.  They arrived about 11:00 and stayed about an hour. Daniel looked beautiful, as if he were sleeping peacefully. I encouraged all our kids to kiss him goodnight, to say goodbye.  That he was very sick, and was going to Heaven very soon.  As they were leaving about midnight, Nathan and Kate were talking about the next day being a Sunday ... and I suddenly remembered it was my birthday ... realized that my son was going to die on my 30th birthday!  I had a breakdown on Jeff's shoulder.  He was glad it had taken me so long to connect the dots on that one, he had remembered all along.

Dr. Bennett called in a brain specialist shortly after the kids left to run tests on Daniel and provide a second opinion.  We had said that we trusted her diagnosis – the cold head was the clincher for us – but she said that if she were the mother she might second-guess, be wishing four months down the road that there had been a second opinion.  I was watching as the tests were done ... simple things, like checking pupil response to light, response to ice water in the ear canal, etc.  There was absolutely no response to anything.

In some ways Jeff was ready to let Daniel go then – and Dad C. was strongly of that opinion – but we both wanted Muth to be able to arrive first. We slept in the private room provided right beside the PICU.  I knew Daniel was already gone, and he wouldn’t know if we were there, but it really helped our rest to know that his Babcia was out there, holding his hand.  I was up and down during the night (total of 3 hours of sleep – not bad!) and at one point made Mom C. take a nap while I held his hand.  He was so beautiful, even in this half-death ... so lovely ... I couldn’t help but smile, even if through my tears, every time I looked at him.

About 3 a.m. Lord’s Day, his swollen abdomen started compressing his lungs. The vitals fluctuated, and even when the nurses manually suctioned out his lungs they a hard time stabilizing him. We were sleeping at the time. I woke up about 3:20, right as they were finishing their work with him. At that point, we expected Muth to arrive about 11:30 p.m. The doctor didn't think they could keep Daniel alive that long and she asked permission/advised that they were going to quit upping the doses of the medications. The more fluid they gave him, the harder on his heart, so they had to give him increasingly higher doses of steroids (or the somesuch) to force his heart to work harder.  Shortly before 4, Muth called me to say that when she arrived home from the Vestal conference about 3:30 a.m. she had been able to find and book an earlier flight, so I was able to inform the nurses that her expected arrival time had been bumped up to 2:30 that afternoon (flight landing at 1:30, then customs, drive time, etc.). Instructions were instantly changed to increase medications as necessary, and the nurse on shift gave Daniel a lecture that he had an important job to do ... he had to wait for his Grandma!  His vitals were stable from then on.

Lord’s Day morning Dave and Heather showed up briefly, Dad C. left for meeting, and Uncle Paul and Aunt Kathryn arrived. (I feel like someone else stopped by, too, but I can’t remember ... )  It became a time of waiting for the inevitable, realizing a final goodbye was imminent. Many in Vancouver, Vestal, Pella and many other places were praying Muth would be able to get there in time. When Dad and Mom left for the airport to pick her up, the nurse said they were “as sure as they could be” that Daniel would make it until 2:30. Dad spoke in person to the personnel at the airlines and customs and made arrangements for them to put Muth at the head of the line leaving the plane and for someone to meet her and walk her through customs so there would be no delays.  Her flight arrived a few minutes early and she made it to the hospital at 2:10, possibly a record from the plane through customs to the hospital. She was so grateful to be with him and see him one last time, to stroke his blond hair, to kiss his forehead, to say goodbye. About ten minutes after she arrived, the vitals started going unstable. The doctors said Daniel was letting go, and we said we were ready to let him go. First the nurses helped Jeff and I get footprints and a handprint.  They disconnected the tubes and the meds – everything except breathing -- and put him in my arms as I sat in a rocking chair.

Just as they transferred him, a lot more people showed up. Wayne & Kasia, Paul & Kathryn, Steve & Susan and my mom were already there, but Phil & Beth Bryant (CoH), Wayne & Susanne Driedger (CH), and Russell and Vanessa Greenhow (CoH) walked in right then, so there was a wonderful group with us at the end.  (Honestly, I really don’t remember much of this time, other than knowing that it was amazing; most of this is what other people told me happened.) Daniel was unencumbered by tubes and receiving only oxygen. I remember the nurse who was ‘breathing’ for him just quietly standing next to me, one hand steadily pumping, her other hand steadily wiping her tears away.  I held him for a while, then transferred him to Jeff's arms. A second doctor (Dr. C. from South Africa), who was a believer, knelt down and prayed with us all. Then we said they could stop pumping oxygen. They stopped at 3:15, and his heart kept going for another 5 minutes before they covered the monitor and marked his time of death.  Phil Bryant prayed, then someone started a lovely hymn. I suggested How Good is the God We Adore (did I really?), and again we lifted our voices in harmony to the Lord. Aunt Kathryn prayed, then Dad.  Phil started It Is Well with My Soul, and the whole ward must’ve heard us!  It felt private since the nurses had closed the curtains around us ... but curtains don’t keep out much sound.  Phil sang Beulah Land by himself with some hummed harmony. I felt that if I had to lose a child this was the best way, like the experience was sacred. We were in God’s arms with a tangible sense of His presence, surrounded by the love of His people.

After the crowd dispersed a bit, we went across the hall to speak and pray with a Christian family whose daughter was very ill, and Muth held Daniel for a while. The coroner came in and had a few questions.  Like my birthday.  I was purposely not looking at anyone as I answered, but I could hear Dr. Bennett softly say to Kasia, “I didn’t know ... that is hard ...”  I had to quite agree!  Then I held him in my arms for one long last time – have I mentioned how utterly beautiful he was?! -- until my arm went numb (he was at least 10 pounds heavier than normal, from all the fluid retention).  I marveled again at his beauty as I oh-so-carefully lay him down on the hospital bed for the last time.  The nurses gave me a hollow heart necklace and showed me the matching little heart that fit right inside. She promised they would tie it around Daniel’s wrist, and I hung the heart with the missing piece around my neck.  Jeff and I were given a few minutes alone with him to say goodbye before we headed home.  That was the hardest goodbye.

The love and support from everyone - from the first responder, to the policeman who stayed with us until Daniel was transferred, to the nurses who cried with us, to the social worker at SMH who kept going in and out with reports, to the nurses who did everything to keep Daniel alive until Muth got there – it was amazing. And there was an outpouring of support from the body of Christ from so many, even many barely known, from so many ‘branches’ of Christendom – with meals, as many as 3 offers a night, babysitting, and so much more.  “Bless the Lord, O my soul.”

Looking back, we are relieved that it is undeniably clear to us that this was the perfect, not just permissive, will of the Lord.  We’ll never know why, but we must accept it.  For there to be 19 people in the house, and not one to be outside on such a lovely day ... for me not to be near the sink at all for half an hour where I could’ve looked out the kitchen window right into the hot tub ... for the window not to be open, or I may have heard splashing ... for no one to get the ‘nudge’ we have all felt at some time about checking on something ... Surely we can say with certainty that God drew a circle around Daniel that no human could pass and stopped His angels from their regular job of rescuing until His will was accomplished and Daniel was safely Home.  “Thy will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven.”