As Shendra is our promise, Quinnlin our gift, then surely Mason is our miracle. After my stroke we were told I should never have another baby as my body could not carry one successfully and that there was a much higher risk of having another stroke since I had already had one. Bill and I were content with our little family and agreed that we wouldn't take the gamble. I wanted to be there to raise both of my children.
To our surprise in March of 1996, we discovered that I was pregnant. Most of our friends and family were horrified and thought I should consider ending the pregnancy, but I couldn't even think of that. Somehow I knew that all would be well. I met an amazing doctor, Dr. Einman, who told us that we were going to have a healthy pregnancy, a healthy baby and a healthy mother. He refused to listen to anything else. In fact, he went so far as to make me repeat those words until I could start believing in them.
On one of our visits, Dr. Einman had me go for an ultra-sound and then said we had to move the date of his birth up as they thought he was gaining too much weight for me to handle. They believed his weight to be around 15 pounds so Bill and I decided on the 9th of December as it was a day Bill was normally be off and wouldn't miss any work to be with us as Mason was born.
Early morning on December 9th, Mason came into this world with a loud cry. His was the easiest pregnancy I had. Unlike Shendra and Quinnlin, Mason was a towhead with light blue eyes. It is a family joke that Bill cheated on me as Mason looks nothing like me. As he continues to grow, he doesn't seem to be gaining any weight, giving him Bill's frame as well as face almost. According to Bill's mother, Mason looks just like Bill did as a child. Mason has a crazy dare devil attitude that constantly gets him in trouble and usually more than a few band-aids. He is now 13 and one of the joys of our lives. I never wonder what life would be like without him; I am just grateful for him. The funny thing is though, at the time of his birth, Mason was the exact weight (7lbs. 14 ozs.) and height (21 inches long) as Bryce was. I wonder if it is a coincidence or if perhaps the Lord realized we needed to remember the promise of all life is death. After Mason was born, Bill and I made the decision to have a tubal ligation so there would not be another chance of risking my health. We were and are happy with our four children.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Quinnlin Ray Patrick-Chapter III
Quinnlin Ray Patrick was born on April 20th, 1994 via c-section. Where Shenny was our promise, Quinnlin was our gift.When Shenny was about 6 months old we decided to move once more back to Las Vegas, Nevada for better job opportunities as Las Vegas was experiencing a boom. How can I explain the complexities that is Quinnlin? He is wrapped in the night with his mysterious ways, dark hair and brooding eyes full of emotions. The pregnancy itself went well and a week after my Dad's birthday to the day we had Quinnlin. He was my biggest baby at 8 lbs. 7ozs. and 22 inches long with a full smile that lit up his face from the very start.
When Quinn, his nickname since birth, was almost two weeks old I had a very bad headache, one so bad that it hurt just to move my head. My parents convinced me to call the doctor that delivered Quinn and eventually I caved in and called his office. He advised me to go to the hospital and get checked out just to be safe, but I felt like it was a waste of time to sit in an ER for several hours with a new born and a toddler so I took some pain medication, went home and went to sleep. Bill found me on the front room floor that morning. I had my nebulizer cannula clenched between my teeth with my left arm rigid behind my back. I was non-responsive, not breathing and my lips were blue. I am relying on Bill's memories along with other members of my family as I have little to no memories of this. Since we didn't have a phone at that time Bill rushed over the neighbors, called 911, and asked them to call my parents and explain what was going on. Bill ran back to our house and began administering CPR. He was able to get me breathing again.
My parents arrived before the ambulance. I was completely unresponsive to them and they could not get my arm out from underneath me. When the paramedics arrived they were extremely rude and told my parents and Bill that I was fine, that I had OD-ed on some sort of illegal substance. They also claimed that they had been to our house many times before for the same thing. Bill had only begun to work at the MGM so we lived in a rather tough neighborhood. My dad had to threaten them to take me to the hospital. I remember none of this.
At the hospital the paramedics told the ER staff that I was a suspected drug user so by the time they got around to doing any tests and discovered that I had suffered a major stroke, it was too late to give me any medicine that would help reverse the effects. I slowly became aware but did not recognize anyone for several hours and then I knew my Bill. It was several more hours before I knew my mom and dad. I didn't remember much more. I said to people that I had one child, that was a girl about six weeks old. I had forgotten all about Bryce and more heartbreaking to me, Quinnlin. I spent some time in the hospital trying to regain body functions. To this day I have issues with my left side and as a result became epileptic. I was told I should consider suing the hospital and the ambulance drivers but in the end Bill and I decided not to. We prefer working for what we have and anyway, it wouldn't do much good as the problems would still be there. The doctors surmised that I had been technically brain dead for anywhere between eight to ten minutes and for all intent and purposes, should not be alive. I have trouble with cognitive thinking, I no longer can understand to read a clock that is not digital and I have to see certain things before I can comprehend them.
For the first few months after my stroke, I would have as many as 40-60 seizures a month, breaking numerous fingers, toes, and glasses. Luckily, I never hurt any of my children, although I did find myself in some pretty interesting places with them without any memory of how we got there. I lost my drivers license and was on many terrible medicines that to me had more side effects than benefits. I finally stopped taking them as I needed to be there for our children. Bill had to explain to me about Bryce's death, which was something I had begun to dream of. It was almost like it had just happened and I had to go through all the grieving once more. I don't remember much of Quinnlin's first year of life like I would and sometimes I think he feels a bit cheated from my stories of the other kids. I do remember what a sweet soft baby he was though and I do remember how happy we were by the blessings of health that we received from him. He was extremely healthy and happy. I called him my Puppy as he was a big happy puppy whose warm embraced was felt by all he came into contact with. My siblings would call him the gentle giant or usually Oogie Boogie Ray.
He continues to grow, now taller than both his father and I and I cannot help but wonder if he will ever stop. He is also very muscular and strong. He's more serious than I would like at times but I'm very proud of his determination and the protectiveness he has over his family. Still occasionally he shows his silly side by doing crazy things fearlessly, such as walking down main street with a dread lock wig singing at the top of his lungs, and has probably climbed the roof of every house we have ever lived in. We continue to be surprised at the things he does and accomplish and hope we always will.
When Quinn, his nickname since birth, was almost two weeks old I had a very bad headache, one so bad that it hurt just to move my head. My parents convinced me to call the doctor that delivered Quinn and eventually I caved in and called his office. He advised me to go to the hospital and get checked out just to be safe, but I felt like it was a waste of time to sit in an ER for several hours with a new born and a toddler so I took some pain medication, went home and went to sleep. Bill found me on the front room floor that morning. I had my nebulizer cannula clenched between my teeth with my left arm rigid behind my back. I was non-responsive, not breathing and my lips were blue. I am relying on Bill's memories along with other members of my family as I have little to no memories of this. Since we didn't have a phone at that time Bill rushed over the neighbors, called 911, and asked them to call my parents and explain what was going on. Bill ran back to our house and began administering CPR. He was able to get me breathing again.
My parents arrived before the ambulance. I was completely unresponsive to them and they could not get my arm out from underneath me. When the paramedics arrived they were extremely rude and told my parents and Bill that I was fine, that I had OD-ed on some sort of illegal substance. They also claimed that they had been to our house many times before for the same thing. Bill had only begun to work at the MGM so we lived in a rather tough neighborhood. My dad had to threaten them to take me to the hospital. I remember none of this.
At the hospital the paramedics told the ER staff that I was a suspected drug user so by the time they got around to doing any tests and discovered that I had suffered a major stroke, it was too late to give me any medicine that would help reverse the effects. I slowly became aware but did not recognize anyone for several hours and then I knew my Bill. It was several more hours before I knew my mom and dad. I didn't remember much more. I said to people that I had one child, that was a girl about six weeks old. I had forgotten all about Bryce and more heartbreaking to me, Quinnlin. I spent some time in the hospital trying to regain body functions. To this day I have issues with my left side and as a result became epileptic. I was told I should consider suing the hospital and the ambulance drivers but in the end Bill and I decided not to. We prefer working for what we have and anyway, it wouldn't do much good as the problems would still be there. The doctors surmised that I had been technically brain dead for anywhere between eight to ten minutes and for all intent and purposes, should not be alive. I have trouble with cognitive thinking, I no longer can understand to read a clock that is not digital and I have to see certain things before I can comprehend them.
For the first few months after my stroke, I would have as many as 40-60 seizures a month, breaking numerous fingers, toes, and glasses. Luckily, I never hurt any of my children, although I did find myself in some pretty interesting places with them without any memory of how we got there. I lost my drivers license and was on many terrible medicines that to me had more side effects than benefits. I finally stopped taking them as I needed to be there for our children. Bill had to explain to me about Bryce's death, which was something I had begun to dream of. It was almost like it had just happened and I had to go through all the grieving once more. I don't remember much of Quinnlin's first year of life like I would and sometimes I think he feels a bit cheated from my stories of the other kids. I do remember what a sweet soft baby he was though and I do remember how happy we were by the blessings of health that we received from him. He was extremely healthy and happy. I called him my Puppy as he was a big happy puppy whose warm embraced was felt by all he came into contact with. My siblings would call him the gentle giant or usually Oogie Boogie Ray.
He continues to grow, now taller than both his father and I and I cannot help but wonder if he will ever stop. He is also very muscular and strong. He's more serious than I would like at times but I'm very proud of his determination and the protectiveness he has over his family. Still occasionally he shows his silly side by doing crazy things fearlessly, such as walking down main street with a dread lock wig singing at the top of his lungs, and has probably climbed the roof of every house we have ever lived in. We continue to be surprised at the things he does and accomplish and hope we always will.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Shendra Kalanni Patrick- Chapter II
Shendra KaLanni Patrick was born on October 15th, 1992. I found out almost a month after Bryce had died that I was pregnant but that baby wasn’t meant to be as I miscarried a few days later. I turned twenty two that same month in 1991. Thinking about those days is hard as they were so difficult. I lost both of my jobs and had nothing to do with my time but brood and let myself be filled with despair. I couldn’t eat and when I did sleep my dreams were full of Bryce, which made things worse. Sometimes I would dream he was still alive and was despondent after waking up and realizing it was but a dream. Other times I would dream about his death and the guilt that I struggled with. I just wanted to curl up and die. When I lost the baby, I lay on the floor in a fetal position and just wept. I felt that Heavenly Father felt I wasn’t worthy of being a mother. Bill came to me and said that he felt as though Bryce had appeared to him and promised him that we would have another baby and it would be a girl. It was a promise from heaven.
The holidays were dismal that year and in January of 1992, Bill made the decision to move us back to Nevada so I could be closer to my parents and four younger sisters. Later that month I found out that I was pregnant once more. We were so very frightened but also extremely excited. It was a rough pregnancy and in the fourth month I took a nasty fall and had to be rushed to the ER. I was put on bed rest and sent to a chiropractor. When I was five months along Bill and I were walking home from the doctor’s office and we were hit by a car. Thankfully the car wasn’t going very fast but it knocked me off of my feet and allowed the car to go over my belly. Bill screamed and threw his soda at the car, which startled the driver to the point of where he backed up over me. Once more it was back to the hospital where I got my first look at my baby. She showed me her butt and then flipped over and proved Bill’s words to be true. We were having a girl.
Shendra saved us, in every possible way a person could be saved.
When I was seven months along Bill and I made the painful decision to move once more to Utah, but this time to Richfield where my lovely Aunt Pearl lived so he could start college. Aunt Pearl offered us a room until we could get on our feet. We stayed for a little over two months before we could move. Bill was working for the state while attending Snow College. I sat and waddled and felt as though the humidity was going to suck Shendra right out of me.
Despite the fact that I desperately missed my parents and siblings, we settled into life in Richfield. It was much different than the Las Vegas we were used to. Then about the thirteenth of October my doctor sent my cousin Denalyn over to our house to tell me I needed to go to the hospital as my blood work came back with some bad news. Bill and I drove there in silence, nothing but fear in our minds and heart. My doctor, Dr. Moreford, explained that I was having problems with Pre-eclampsia as well as diabetes. I was to spend the night there and they would start inducing the baby first thing in the morning.
I spent thirty six hours on Pit with Bill running back and forth from holding my hands when the contractions hit to his cross stitch he was doing for the baby. We had decided on the name of Shendra for two of my favorite sisters, Kendra and Sherilyn and then KaLanni as it was Hawaiian for Heavenly Promise.
Dr. Moreford came in and told us that we needed another c-section as there was trouble with the babies’ heart. I sobbed, telling Bill over and over that it was just like Brycie. He held my hand firmly and reassured me that all would be well. So, once again Bill was right as Shendra was wonderfully healthy and happy with a wealth of black hair and green eyes. After her birth Dr. Moreford explained that the accident I had had with the car had ruptured my uterus and amniotic fluid had leaked into the broad ligaments of my legs. We would be able to have one more child but only if we were able to get pregnant before Shenny, as we nicknamed her, was a year old.
Over time Shendra's hair has lightened to a reddish brown but those wonderful green eyes that remind me of Grandpa H are still there. As of now she is seventeen and one of the loves of my lives. I feel as though Heavenly Father knew I would only get one girl so he sent me the most special one he had in heaven.
The holidays were dismal that year and in January of 1992, Bill made the decision to move us back to Nevada so I could be closer to my parents and four younger sisters. Later that month I found out that I was pregnant once more. We were so very frightened but also extremely excited. It was a rough pregnancy and in the fourth month I took a nasty fall and had to be rushed to the ER. I was put on bed rest and sent to a chiropractor. When I was five months along Bill and I were walking home from the doctor’s office and we were hit by a car. Thankfully the car wasn’t going very fast but it knocked me off of my feet and allowed the car to go over my belly. Bill screamed and threw his soda at the car, which startled the driver to the point of where he backed up over me. Once more it was back to the hospital where I got my first look at my baby. She showed me her butt and then flipped over and proved Bill’s words to be true. We were having a girl.
Shendra saved us, in every possible way a person could be saved.
When I was seven months along Bill and I made the painful decision to move once more to Utah, but this time to Richfield where my lovely Aunt Pearl lived so he could start college. Aunt Pearl offered us a room until we could get on our feet. We stayed for a little over two months before we could move. Bill was working for the state while attending Snow College. I sat and waddled and felt as though the humidity was going to suck Shendra right out of me.
Despite the fact that I desperately missed my parents and siblings, we settled into life in Richfield. It was much different than the Las Vegas we were used to. Then about the thirteenth of October my doctor sent my cousin Denalyn over to our house to tell me I needed to go to the hospital as my blood work came back with some bad news. Bill and I drove there in silence, nothing but fear in our minds and heart. My doctor, Dr. Moreford, explained that I was having problems with Pre-eclampsia as well as diabetes. I was to spend the night there and they would start inducing the baby first thing in the morning.
I spent thirty six hours on Pit with Bill running back and forth from holding my hands when the contractions hit to his cross stitch he was doing for the baby. We had decided on the name of Shendra for two of my favorite sisters, Kendra and Sherilyn and then KaLanni as it was Hawaiian for Heavenly Promise.
Dr. Moreford came in and told us that we needed another c-section as there was trouble with the babies’ heart. I sobbed, telling Bill over and over that it was just like Brycie. He held my hand firmly and reassured me that all would be well. So, once again Bill was right as Shendra was wonderfully healthy and happy with a wealth of black hair and green eyes. After her birth Dr. Moreford explained that the accident I had had with the car had ruptured my uterus and amniotic fluid had leaked into the broad ligaments of my legs. We would be able to have one more child but only if we were able to get pregnant before Shenny, as we nicknamed her, was a year old.
Over time Shendra's hair has lightened to a reddish brown but those wonderful green eyes that remind me of Grandpa H are still there. As of now she is seventeen and one of the loves of my lives. I feel as though Heavenly Father knew I would only get one girl so he sent me the most special one he had in heaven.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Christian Bryce Patrick - The Beginning of our story
I keep putting this off, as if telling Bryce's story makes it somehow more real. So many words rush throughout my head and I pick and choose which ones will tell him best and yet nothing really seems to work... It's funny how memories change, the good ones fade as though they were bleached old sepia portraits that are soft and blurred around the edges, while the bad or painful ones are crystal clear like a sharpened knife that still cuts and makes one hurt and bleed. I guess I can't go ahead with Bryce's story without telling a little about his father and me and how he came to be.
Bill and I met the end of February of 1990 in Las Vegas, NV, a town I was born in and somewhere he ended up after leaving the military. I was working at a truck stop as a waitress while he was in the mechanic shop. The first night I worked there it was as a cashier, and he had volunteered to help clean up by mopping the floor in exchange for a free supper. I leaned over the counter as he worked and told him he missed a spot. He claims he fell in love that moment, but I considered him to be more of a buddy than anything else. The first few times he asked me out, I said no and finally, feeling a bit sorry for him, agreed the next time. We started dating the end of May and were married the end of July. A little over a month later, I was pregnant. We were both young. Bill was twenty-one, and I was only twenty.
Shortly after we announced our engagement, the management where we worked told us there was a no dating policy and one of us would have to quit or we would both be fired. We decided I should quit as it's always easy to find kitchen work. The day after I quit, Bill was fired and his roommates decided to make him very uncomfortable at their apartment. Without really knowing what to do, we went to my mother for advice. She suggested that we go ahead and marry and move out into their garage until we could find work and save up enough to find a new apartment. It was on a Tuesday we spoke to her, and Bill and I were married that Saturday. A few days later, I tripped and fell with my perpetual grace and broke my ankle. While I stumbled around on crutches, Bill would walk the streets looking for work. Unfortunately, it was the recession of the early '90s and jobs were scarce. Bill took a few day jobs until he finally found one in a small casino as a maintenance man. Within a few months, we moved into our own apartment. There was nothing very interesting about my pregnancy with Bryce other than Bill was amazed how much I could consume and then throw up before announcing I was hungry again. It was the first pregnancy we were really familiar with, as both of our siblings were born when we were children and not very interested in anything remotely to do with their births.
Two weeks after Bryce's due date, I was admitted to the hospital to start labor. It was discovered then that the same medicine I took to help my asthma was the same given to women to prevent premature labor. I was on the "Pit" for an entire day without any result when the doctors decided to give it up for the night and resume again the first thing in the morning. It was memorial day weekend, and the weather was very stormy and the lights actually went out throughout the hospital for a few hours, so it was decided that I could be given a meal and rest until the following morning. My younger sister Heidi had come to the hospital to keep me company until Bill got off work so she and I were talking when the doctor burst through the door. She told us not to worry but that the baby's heart rate was dropping for some reason and they wanted to monitor it a little more closely. A few seconds after she spoke, she screamed for the nurses and I was rushed into the delivery room for an emergency c-section. I woke up once in the recovering room where Bill kissed me and with tears in his eyes told me we had a beautiful baby boy. We named him Christian Bryce Patrick. He weighed 7lbs and 14ozs and was twenty-one inches long, the same as Bill was when he was born.
I was told later that Bryce was born in full cardiac arrest and they had no idea what had happened, but his heart was okay and other than asthma, he seemed to be perfect. They thought it might be that he had simply ran out of amniotic fluid but they weren't certain. At four in the morning, I saw my son for the first time. I can remember looking at his little fingers and counting his toes as I'm sure every new mother does. I was convinced that no one had ever given birth to a more beautiful baby and Bryce was a beautiful baby. He had my red hair and brown eyes and dimples on both of his cheeks when he smiled, which was often.
When Bryce was about six weeks old, Bill lost his job due to lay offs that were happening all over Nevada. My mother again suggested that Bill and I talk to my older sister Robyn who lived in Utah with her husband and three kids. I called Robyn that night and she wanted Bill and I to move there, where we could live with her until we could find work and get our own place. So we loaded up our few possessions into our old 1968 Ford Mustang Cobra II and drove until we reached Springville, UT. Bill went to work with my brother in law Billy as well as took a part time job doing plastic work for Billy's aunt and uncle. I took a full time job as a waitress at another truck stop and a part time one cooking at a diner. Robyn and I traded off babysitting so one of us was always home with our kids. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was better than anything else we could think of.
Bryce was a very happy baby who didn't suffer from colic or anything some babies go through. His favorite thing was to sit in his chair in front of the television and watch whatever was on. Sometimes he would actually cry if we moved him from his favorite spot. One day while I was working at the diner, Bill called me frantically and said that Bryce was bleeding from his mouth and he didn't know what to do. I told him to call our doctor immediately and see what he said. Bill did, and the doctor told him to bring Bryce right in. The doctor told Bill he suspected Bryce had a condition called Trachea Malaysia, in which the trachea was soft and could collapse easily. He suggested we take him to a specialist, and the doctor there put Bryce on some medication that would hopefully make his trachea stronger. He also warned us not to let Bryce sleep on anything but his stomach as his trachea could shut and he could suffocate without warning.
It's amazing how I can recall every tiny detail of the day Bryce died. It was a Thursday, and I had just gotten paid from one of my jobs and didn't have to work the other that night so Robyn and I decided to have her friend Karma watch the kids and sneak out to dinner, just the two of us. Bill left for his job a little earlier than normal to pick up some doughnuts as they were having a party at work so I jumped in the shower and got dressed in a pair of black leggings and a black lace shirt while Robyn was lying down reading a book until Karma arrived. I had checked on Bryce who was sleeping in a cradle our Dad had made for Robyn's middle child before she was born next to Robyn's bed. Robyn told me she had just put him down and not to wake him up. I placed my hand on his back for a few seconds and felt him breath before going to the shower. After getting dressed, I sat down on the couch and started counting my tips so I could figure out my bills and how much money we could spend without Bill killing me. Robyn started screaming to call 911 then.
At first I thought she was joking and went to see what was going on. She carried Bryce's lifeless body into the hall and laid him down on the floor. I felt him and was shocked at how cold he felt. In my confusion I thought all I needed to do was rub Bryce until he was warm and he would be fine. Robyn jumped over me and grabbed the phone. She dialed the number and told the dispatcher that Bryce wasn't breathing and then I realized something was dreadfully wrong. She handed me the phone and began doing infant CPR on Bryce while I shouted the procedure to her from the 911 operator. I can remember telling the operator that Bryce was my baby, my only son. I was dumbstruck. The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive but in reality it was only a few minutes as the station house was only a few blocks away. A neighbor who lived next door had heard the call come in on his scanner and ran across the street to see if he could help. When the paramedics came, he took my arm and led me away. They were going to try to do a tracheotomy and he didn't want me to see it.
He half dragged me outside. I kept rubbing my arms, shivering. It was a warm day for the end of September but I can still recall how cold I felt, inside and out. There were scores of people standing outside watching. They crowded the ambulance and me. I can remember shouting at them, calling them vultures and telling them to go away. I don't think anyone moved. The excitement was too fresh to ignore. The paramedics brought Bryce out on a gurney with Robyn following close behind. Robyn was allowed to sit in the back, but I was lead to the passenger side of the front of the ambulance. How long that ride seemed to last and how angry and frustrated I was with the every day traffic, wanting them to move listening for some sound coming from the back of the ambulance, anything to give me a little bit of hope or something to hang onto. There was a weird breathing sound and I prayed that it was Bryce holding on. I found out later that it was a respirator. We arrived at the hospital and Robyn and I were sent in a different direction than Bryce who was taken somewhere in the back rooms. We were led to the administrative offices to fill out paperwork.
A woman asked Robyn if she was the mother and I replied that I was. Before we could go any further into the paperwork a doctor came out and asked for the mother of the baby brought in. I replied that I was her and he coldly told me that Bryce was dead and walked off.
I would have fallen if not for Robyn grabbing me quickly. I screamed and sobbed hysterically. I understood what he had said, but I was numb with shock and kept waiting for someone to wake me up, to tell me it was just a bad dream. They took Robyn and I into another room, one that was empty of people. I can't even recall what we did but soon after we entered I heard screaming once more. I thought it was in my own head at first and then Robyn rushed out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a sobbing Bill. Bill and my brother in law Billy had first been sent to the wrong hospital and when they arrived at the right one, Bill had gone up to the desk saying that his son had been brought in by ambulance. The nurse asked if he meant the DOA. That's how Bill found out our son was gone.
Later they let Robyn, her husband Billy, Bill, and I back into where Bryce lay. He looked like he had been horribly beaten, his face a terrible molten purple and he was making a weird gasping sound. I exclaimed that he wasn't really dead, that he was breathing but the doctor told us that it wasn't breathing like I thought, but the gas in his body settling. I sat in a rocking chair and held him tight to my chest, rocking back and forth while tears splashed on his little face. As hard as it was to accept, my son, my little Brycie was dead.
We buried Bryce in a little town that my mother grew up in named Elsinore, in the central part of Utah on September 30th, 1991. We had a small grave site service for Bryce as there weren't many people to attend. In less than four short months, I had given birth to a son, and buried him. It just didn't seem fair. Everywhere I looked women were pregnant, giving birth, or holding a baby. I felt so left out and almost that Bill and I were being punished for something we didn't quite understand.
It's been almost nineteen years since Bryce died. Still there are many good days and a few bad ones as well. I suppose there will always be something missing in my life, a hole where Bryce belongs and although I do firmly believe I will be reunited with him someday, until then I will wonder the what-ifs that always go with the loss of a loved one.
Bill and I met the end of February of 1990 in Las Vegas, NV, a town I was born in and somewhere he ended up after leaving the military. I was working at a truck stop as a waitress while he was in the mechanic shop. The first night I worked there it was as a cashier, and he had volunteered to help clean up by mopping the floor in exchange for a free supper. I leaned over the counter as he worked and told him he missed a spot. He claims he fell in love that moment, but I considered him to be more of a buddy than anything else. The first few times he asked me out, I said no and finally, feeling a bit sorry for him, agreed the next time. We started dating the end of May and were married the end of July. A little over a month later, I was pregnant. We were both young. Bill was twenty-one, and I was only twenty.
Shortly after we announced our engagement, the management where we worked told us there was a no dating policy and one of us would have to quit or we would both be fired. We decided I should quit as it's always easy to find kitchen work. The day after I quit, Bill was fired and his roommates decided to make him very uncomfortable at their apartment. Without really knowing what to do, we went to my mother for advice. She suggested that we go ahead and marry and move out into their garage until we could find work and save up enough to find a new apartment. It was on a Tuesday we spoke to her, and Bill and I were married that Saturday. A few days later, I tripped and fell with my perpetual grace and broke my ankle. While I stumbled around on crutches, Bill would walk the streets looking for work. Unfortunately, it was the recession of the early '90s and jobs were scarce. Bill took a few day jobs until he finally found one in a small casino as a maintenance man. Within a few months, we moved into our own apartment. There was nothing very interesting about my pregnancy with Bryce other than Bill was amazed how much I could consume and then throw up before announcing I was hungry again. It was the first pregnancy we were really familiar with, as both of our siblings were born when we were children and not very interested in anything remotely to do with their births.
Two weeks after Bryce's due date, I was admitted to the hospital to start labor. It was discovered then that the same medicine I took to help my asthma was the same given to women to prevent premature labor. I was on the "Pit" for an entire day without any result when the doctors decided to give it up for the night and resume again the first thing in the morning. It was memorial day weekend, and the weather was very stormy and the lights actually went out throughout the hospital for a few hours, so it was decided that I could be given a meal and rest until the following morning. My younger sister Heidi had come to the hospital to keep me company until Bill got off work so she and I were talking when the doctor burst through the door. She told us not to worry but that the baby's heart rate was dropping for some reason and they wanted to monitor it a little more closely. A few seconds after she spoke, she screamed for the nurses and I was rushed into the delivery room for an emergency c-section. I woke up once in the recovering room where Bill kissed me and with tears in his eyes told me we had a beautiful baby boy. We named him Christian Bryce Patrick. He weighed 7lbs and 14ozs and was twenty-one inches long, the same as Bill was when he was born.
I was told later that Bryce was born in full cardiac arrest and they had no idea what had happened, but his heart was okay and other than asthma, he seemed to be perfect. They thought it might be that he had simply ran out of amniotic fluid but they weren't certain. At four in the morning, I saw my son for the first time. I can remember looking at his little fingers and counting his toes as I'm sure every new mother does. I was convinced that no one had ever given birth to a more beautiful baby and Bryce was a beautiful baby. He had my red hair and brown eyes and dimples on both of his cheeks when he smiled, which was often.
When Bryce was about six weeks old, Bill lost his job due to lay offs that were happening all over Nevada. My mother again suggested that Bill and I talk to my older sister Robyn who lived in Utah with her husband and three kids. I called Robyn that night and she wanted Bill and I to move there, where we could live with her until we could find work and get our own place. So we loaded up our few possessions into our old 1968 Ford Mustang Cobra II and drove until we reached Springville, UT. Bill went to work with my brother in law Billy as well as took a part time job doing plastic work for Billy's aunt and uncle. I took a full time job as a waitress at another truck stop and a part time one cooking at a diner. Robyn and I traded off babysitting so one of us was always home with our kids. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was better than anything else we could think of.
Bryce was a very happy baby who didn't suffer from colic or anything some babies go through. His favorite thing was to sit in his chair in front of the television and watch whatever was on. Sometimes he would actually cry if we moved him from his favorite spot. One day while I was working at the diner, Bill called me frantically and said that Bryce was bleeding from his mouth and he didn't know what to do. I told him to call our doctor immediately and see what he said. Bill did, and the doctor told him to bring Bryce right in. The doctor told Bill he suspected Bryce had a condition called Trachea Malaysia, in which the trachea was soft and could collapse easily. He suggested we take him to a specialist, and the doctor there put Bryce on some medication that would hopefully make his trachea stronger. He also warned us not to let Bryce sleep on anything but his stomach as his trachea could shut and he could suffocate without warning.
It's amazing how I can recall every tiny detail of the day Bryce died. It was a Thursday, and I had just gotten paid from one of my jobs and didn't have to work the other that night so Robyn and I decided to have her friend Karma watch the kids and sneak out to dinner, just the two of us. Bill left for his job a little earlier than normal to pick up some doughnuts as they were having a party at work so I jumped in the shower and got dressed in a pair of black leggings and a black lace shirt while Robyn was lying down reading a book until Karma arrived. I had checked on Bryce who was sleeping in a cradle our Dad had made for Robyn's middle child before she was born next to Robyn's bed. Robyn told me she had just put him down and not to wake him up. I placed my hand on his back for a few seconds and felt him breath before going to the shower. After getting dressed, I sat down on the couch and started counting my tips so I could figure out my bills and how much money we could spend without Bill killing me. Robyn started screaming to call 911 then.
At first I thought she was joking and went to see what was going on. She carried Bryce's lifeless body into the hall and laid him down on the floor. I felt him and was shocked at how cold he felt. In my confusion I thought all I needed to do was rub Bryce until he was warm and he would be fine. Robyn jumped over me and grabbed the phone. She dialed the number and told the dispatcher that Bryce wasn't breathing and then I realized something was dreadfully wrong. She handed me the phone and began doing infant CPR on Bryce while I shouted the procedure to her from the 911 operator. I can remember telling the operator that Bryce was my baby, my only son. I was dumbstruck. The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive but in reality it was only a few minutes as the station house was only a few blocks away. A neighbor who lived next door had heard the call come in on his scanner and ran across the street to see if he could help. When the paramedics came, he took my arm and led me away. They were going to try to do a tracheotomy and he didn't want me to see it.
He half dragged me outside. I kept rubbing my arms, shivering. It was a warm day for the end of September but I can still recall how cold I felt, inside and out. There were scores of people standing outside watching. They crowded the ambulance and me. I can remember shouting at them, calling them vultures and telling them to go away. I don't think anyone moved. The excitement was too fresh to ignore. The paramedics brought Bryce out on a gurney with Robyn following close behind. Robyn was allowed to sit in the back, but I was lead to the passenger side of the front of the ambulance. How long that ride seemed to last and how angry and frustrated I was with the every day traffic, wanting them to move listening for some sound coming from the back of the ambulance, anything to give me a little bit of hope or something to hang onto. There was a weird breathing sound and I prayed that it was Bryce holding on. I found out later that it was a respirator. We arrived at the hospital and Robyn and I were sent in a different direction than Bryce who was taken somewhere in the back rooms. We were led to the administrative offices to fill out paperwork.
A woman asked Robyn if she was the mother and I replied that I was. Before we could go any further into the paperwork a doctor came out and asked for the mother of the baby brought in. I replied that I was her and he coldly told me that Bryce was dead and walked off.
I would have fallen if not for Robyn grabbing me quickly. I screamed and sobbed hysterically. I understood what he had said, but I was numb with shock and kept waiting for someone to wake me up, to tell me it was just a bad dream. They took Robyn and I into another room, one that was empty of people. I can't even recall what we did but soon after we entered I heard screaming once more. I thought it was in my own head at first and then Robyn rushed out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a sobbing Bill. Bill and my brother in law Billy had first been sent to the wrong hospital and when they arrived at the right one, Bill had gone up to the desk saying that his son had been brought in by ambulance. The nurse asked if he meant the DOA. That's how Bill found out our son was gone.
Later they let Robyn, her husband Billy, Bill, and I back into where Bryce lay. He looked like he had been horribly beaten, his face a terrible molten purple and he was making a weird gasping sound. I exclaimed that he wasn't really dead, that he was breathing but the doctor told us that it wasn't breathing like I thought, but the gas in his body settling. I sat in a rocking chair and held him tight to my chest, rocking back and forth while tears splashed on his little face. As hard as it was to accept, my son, my little Brycie was dead.
We buried Bryce in a little town that my mother grew up in named Elsinore, in the central part of Utah on September 30th, 1991. We had a small grave site service for Bryce as there weren't many people to attend. In less than four short months, I had given birth to a son, and buried him. It just didn't seem fair. Everywhere I looked women were pregnant, giving birth, or holding a baby. I felt so left out and almost that Bill and I were being punished for something we didn't quite understand.
It's been almost nineteen years since Bryce died. Still there are many good days and a few bad ones as well. I suppose there will always be something missing in my life, a hole where Bryce belongs and although I do firmly believe I will be reunited with him someday, until then I will wonder the what-ifs that always go with the loss of a loved one.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Shendra actually was caught smiling!!!!
This in itself is a very rare occurrence so I feel rather proud of it.
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Bryce at the hospital on the day after he was born.
This picture always makes me the saddest as he looks like he is praying.
The first week we brought him home.
Again during his first week of life.
Bryce two weeks before he died.
Shendra Kalanni Patrick
Lovely Little Shenny
Shendra
Shendra was just waking up and not very happy about having her picture taken first thing in the morning.
Quinnlin
The Quinn
Mason
Mace trying on new clothes for Christmas.
