You Snooze, You LOSE!!!

There is such a cute story behind this picture. Years ago, we were lucky enough to have John's sister Crystal  and her husband Brent live close by as newlyweds. Brent loves fishing more than anyone I've ever known, and was always up for an excuse to go. They also were so in love with our kids and spoiled them like crazy. Brent decided to take Brittany and Jordan (and John and I too so we wouldn't pout) out for the evening to go fishing. Jordan was 5 or 6 and already thought that since he was a boy, he would be out fish Brittany. That night, Brittany was the only one who caught anything. Every time she would cast out, (actually it was Brent who would cast out, and he would then let Brittany hold the pole) within just a few minutes she would make a catch. Time after time this happened while the rest of us never even felt a nibble. We took her lot home to Crystal and Brent's apartment, where Brent fried them up special for us. Brent served a mission in Australia and has learned some pretty rockin cooking technique. Being the great host he was, he made sure we were all fed first. There were just enough for everyone to have one. They had to be cooked a couple at a  time. Brittany, and well all of us, loved the fish. She had hers gone in about one bite. Brent, of course chose to be served last. He had just sat down to take his first bite when Brittany asked him for a glass of water. Being such a great uncle, he could never refuse any request she ever made, no matter how small. So up he went to get her a drink. By the time he got back, Brittany had snatched his fish off his plate and had it devoured! She was so fast none of us had even seen what had happened. When asked, she was almost proud of what she had done. Almost as if by saying she it, it was a compliment to his cooking. Silly girl! Thanks Brent for such a great memory. This one makes me smile every time, and has made our family laugh out loud together many times over the years.

Who will remember?

    I've mentioned before that with most situations I am prepared for what I might be walking into.  The first time I was in the church we had her funeral in, I was ready. It was still hard, but I was ready. Having to to back to our Dr. office just a week after we buried her, and seeing the chair she sat in, the room she was seen in last, I was ready. Even when I had to unexpectantly take John to the ER just two weeks later and having the same nurse work on John that had just worked on Brittany, it was so hard, but in a way I was ready for it. For me, it's the little things I'm not ready for that are sometimes hardest.
     Brittany had always loved reading, and had wanted a magazine subscription to some of the dumb teen magazines. I don't like the message they send to young girls, so I kept putting her off. I was excited though when she became interested in the Reader Digest. That was something I could approve of, and she would like the feeling of having a magazine with her name on it, come in the mail every month. So several weeks before Christmas, I ordered her a magazine subscription. It was supposed to start right around Christmas, so it was perfect. Obviously, Brittany never saw Christmas or her presents. We actually donated her presents to a girl that wasn't going to have a Christmas that was Brittany's same age. That part was fairly easy to do since Brittany had never seen them, and there was no emotional connection to them. But by the time Christmas rolled around, I had forgotten about the Digest. I went to the mailbox one day, and there it was. Her name on the label, just like what she would have wanted. That was hard. I held it in my hands for quite sometime, seeing so clearly what her expression would have/ should have been. I wish I could have been able to share that moment with her.
     Today I went into a French bakery here in Cedar that, until this last week, didn't even know existed. As I waited for my crepe to be made and I was glancing around at the store, I couldn't help but wish I could show it to Brittany. She would have loved to see the Eiffel tower name tag holders they have. She would have loved seeing the chef hats, and to hear the French accent the owner has. She would have loved eating authentic French pastries. I wasn't quite ready for that...
     John and I were talking tonight, and I was thinking out loud with him, trying to figure out how to put in words why I think it is so much harder, emotionally, to lose a child that is in their teens v.s. a child that is grown and has kids or grandkids. I was saying that as a child, we as parents are still used to revolving our lives around them. We are used to waking them up every morning, making sure they have everything they need for school, driving them wherever they need to go. We instinctively listen for them at night while we sleep. As they grow up and move out, it eases us out of that routine. We will still worry about them, and still want to help them however we can. But they won't be here in our line of vision the whole time. They will start to carry on with their own decisions we will find out about after they have already made them rather than helping them through the decisions. And then came the moment I wasn't ready for at all. I had made the realization that we, as grieving parents, the only thing we want is for our child to be remembered. Our children will remember us when we have left this life. Our grandchildren will have memories of us, and will pass down our traditions. But for Brittany, and other children who die, once the immediate family has passed away, her memory will be lost. She wont have traditions to pass down. She won't have any of her lullabies  sung to her own children's  babies.  There will be no wedding dress to play dress-up in. There will be no recipes of "grandmas famous cookies" in her handwriting. No weekends at grandma's that will be looked forward to all year long. She will be gone like the fading of a shadow as the sun sets and darkness creeps in.
    To me, this loss of remembering is what is most heartbreaking and terrifying. In a year from now, will anyone still remember her laugh? In 5 years from now, will anyone laugh at her jokes she didn't even realize she was telling?  In 10 years from now, will anyone remember the way she would tell a story and make you feel like you were a part of it? In 30 years, when her friends are gathering for class reunions, will her name even be recognized? All the things that made up such a beautiful girl, will they fade away and be forgotten? How can a life that was so bright and bold be extinguished and ignored over time? How can I make sure my girl is never forgotten? When she has left such an imprint on my heart, how can it ever be the same without her?

   

Everything has a story to tell

We all have things that bring us strength. Listening to music, holding our children, drinking a Diet Coke or eating chocolate. There is something that helps us all through difficult times. For me, I have many. I am a very sentimental person. When given flowers, I hang onto them until they are not only wilted and dead, but until they have dried and are crumbling. I have little items from years past that I look upon and pull strength from. Many photographs that I glance through often, reminding me of moments, and friends from times lost. Over the last 2 1/2 months, my items of strength has increased, and the "feel" to them has shifted. Diet Coke no longer has the savor to it it used to. Chocolate is only making me fatter. I am more particular about music and how it relates to my mood. My first token of new strength came while we were still in the hospital. Brittany had already passed, and our family members were still with us, holding onto the few moments we had left there together. A nurse approached us saying we had a visitor if we would allow her to come. We had never met her before, and right now I even forget her name. She told us that she had been sent by some friends to make some necklaces for us. She showed us an example of the kind she would be making. She would be taking some silver polymer and makes an impression of Brittany's fingerprint. Once firing the silver, a tag and a pearl would also be attached. The amazing thing is, it can't ever be duplicated. Everyone has their own unique fingerprint, just as every person is so unique themselves. What a blessing this was for us. It had to be done then, because Brittany would no longer be accessible for something like this. Our kids watched as she very respectfully got each impression individually for each necklace. One for every member of our family. It took a few weeks to get everything done, and the tags couldn't quite hold the amount of characters needed for her name, so we had to get a little creative with that. Some have her initials, there is the word "forever" that has been used. But each one is perfect. I love how much they mean to each of us. It's like a little part of her is still hugging my neck.

Over the next several weeks, and even now, we are still getting gifts from people. Books, poems, cards, so many other ways of remembering Brittany and helps with grief. Each one is greatly appreciated. The first gift we received once we were home was a Willow Tree figurine of a mother and daughter. I had seen Willow Trees many times, and had always loved them. I was even given one from a dear friend after having gone through several weeks of difficulty, to show strength and courage.  I have a whole new appreciation of them now. The simplicity of each one, and how much the little girls look like Brittany. There doesn't have to be a face to show personality and feeling in a piece like these. We ended up receiving several over the next week or so, and I have added some myself. Each one has it's own story, it's own place in my heart.

This was the first one I was given, before Brittany passed away. As we were going through pictures of Brittany, John found this picture he took of her while we were in California a few years ago. I love how they are now tied together in this way. A symbol of freedom and happiness.

These are ones that were given to us from different friends. Like I've said before, each one has a story to them. I won't go into each story because some of them are too dear to me to post publicly. But they are loved.

These are my representations of Brittany and memories she brings to mind. At the funeral John and I, and each of my kids wrote and presented their own talks. It was mentioned more than once Brittany's love of apples and reading. They were her source of comfort and peace. Jenna mentioned in her talk a time we were on the Beaver mountains camping. Brittany had been gathering wildflowers with Jenna and Savanah. Somehow Brittany found a seashell up there. She gave it to Jenna and told her it was magic, and told a cute story of how it was magic as she gave her the shell. So the angel with the sea shell is specifically for Jenna to have someday. Her own angel with a magic sea shell.

This is my family group. I can't tell you how many times I had held Brittany just like this when she was having a bad day, my heart aching to take her pain away. Wanting so much to be able to make sense of this world for her and to help her find her place. I have so many memories of John sitting relaxed as he teases and visits with our children. As soon as I saw this figurine, I knew I had to have one. The one of the two girls talking brings tears to my eyes. I love that one girl has brown hair and the other short blond, just like Brittany and Kaitlyn. They would always talk about their dreams, hopes, and plans for the future. They would plot, scheme, and laugh and the most random ideas. I have one in mind that I will be getting someday soon of a girl with her brother. That will be Jordan's, and I'll post it once I get it.
     At the funeral, we were touched at the amount of family members that came for us. Neither John or I have family close by, so each of them had to travel quite a distance. We had some as far away as Texas, travel for two days in time to be there for the funeral just to turn right around a few hours later to go back. We had aunts, uncles, cousins we haven't seen in years. There were some that were only able to come to the viewing, and others that couldn't come at all that sent proxies in their place to bring messages of comfort and support. We truly are blessed with wonderful families. One family member that has touched my heart forever, is one of Johns cousins. She has had her own heartbreak she has been dealing with. I won't go into detail, since that is her story to tell to whom she feels should hear it. But hugging her was like hugging my own sister. She gave us a gift after the funeral as we were cleaning up and preparing to go home. She has a friend that quickly become so dear to me, even though we have never met. She made this for us. I doubt she will ever know the peace seeing Brittany in such a loving place means to me. It helps to be able to see a real picture of her, happy in a place I can only dream about.

I will forever miss you

     The last few days have been pretty good for me. I had been able to function almost fully. I still thought of Brittany all the time, and I still saw reminders of her everywhere I go. But I had been able to handle it. I would cry a bit from time to time, but in small amounts. The grief wasn't knocking the breath out of me. There have been other days like these that I was almost even in a good mood. On those days I would struggle to stay happy. Often times when I start to feel happy, I also felt guilty for being happy. It feels more natural right now to feel sad, and feeling happy feels out of place. It almost feels like I am betraying my daughter. It's something I have been trying to work on, to be happy and be ok with being happy.
          Having these thought all day has ended my good days streak. I have felt somber continually, and outright sadness often. Getting dressed was hard to do. When I drive, I am almost amazed that I am able to arrive to where I am going because I feel so numb to it. I had a few errands to do in town before I went to work, and on my way home I passed the billboard sign for Les Miserable the Shakespearean Festival had put on. John had taken her to that play over the summer, and she spoke often of how much she loved it. It will forever be a reminder of her. Every time I pass that billboard, I think of her. As luck would have it, at that same time, one of Brittany's favorite songs came on the radio. We used to turn up the radio so loud, and dance like crazy monkeys. It was such a fun time with my girls, to be carefree for just a few minutes. I was reflecting on that as I listened to the song. It feels like it has been forever since I have felt carefree. Losing Brittany has made me feel unsafe myself. I feel like the only way to protect my heart from hurting now, and from being hurt again, is to live "safe" and guarded. Carefree feels too vulnerable now.  I miss those times. I miss the innocence of feeling like I have forever with my kids. That I will be able to watch them grow older, have children of their own, and that they will be the ones to bury me, not the other way around.

There's a song for everything

As we drove home from the hospital there would be times when silence was the most comforting sound in the world. Just to hear the white noise of the wheels on pavement and the engine running. I would stare out the window and see nothing at all. I felt like all my strength had been pulled out of me, and to even breathe was imensly exhausting. But after awhile there needed to be something more, or I was afraid I might litraly go insane. So, I put on some music. Being so numb, it was easy to listen to the words of every song that came on. Songs that had been written for lovers, now took on a whole new meaning. The love they expressed was like my own love I had for Brittany. The heartbreak became mirrored to my own. It's interesting how anything can be twisted to fit your own situation. But there was one song that really hit home. Its by Rihanna :

A Million Miles Away

Here we lay face to face once again

silence cuts like a knife as we pretend.

and I'm wondering who will be the first to

say what we both know

We're just holding on to "could have been"s

and we should be letting go

(chorus)

It feels like you're a million miles away 

as you're lying here with me tonight.

I can't even find the words to say

I can't find a way to make it right

and we both know the story's ending,

we play the part, but we're just pretending

and I can't hide the tears

'cause even though your here,

it feels like you're a million miles away.

Was it me, or was it you that broke away?

For what we were is like a season love is change.

And every time I think about it, it tears me up inside.

Like the rivers of emotion, but I got no more tears to cry.

(chorus)

We can try to talk it over, but we walked that road before

While our song is playing it's last note

we both know for sure that it's time to close that door.

(chorus)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9EHxH-_urw

All I could see, was myself laying next to my sweet girl, knowing every second I was with her, she was slipping further away from me. I could touch her face, but she was already so far gone, lost in her coma. I wanted to badly to be able to reach her one more time. To look in her eyes and have her looking back at me as I told her for the last time how much I love her. But she felt like she really was a million miles away.

A few weeks after Brittany's funeral, I had a friend share with me another song. This one by Pink. As I listened to it, it was perfect for how Brittany was. She was always barefoot, running around in the grass. Always picking wild flowers. At the graveside services, we had a balloon release to the song "Tears in Heaven". As we let the balloons go, and they floated higher and higher, there were two black birds fly about.  They circled around, in and out of the balloons. I felt as if it really was Brittany trying to say good-bye to us in her own way. What I wouldn't give for just one more minute.... Just one.

Beam Me Up

There's a whole n'other conversation going on

in a parallel univers. 

Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts.

There's a waltz playing frozen in time.

Blades of grass on tiny bare feet.

I look at you and you're looking at me

(chorus)

Could you beam me up?

Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it.

I'd probably just stare, 

happy just to be there holding your face.

Beam me up.

Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter.

I think a minutes enough.

Just beam me up.

Saw black birds soaring in the sky.

Bearly a breath I caught one last sight.

Tell me that was you, saying goodbye.

There are times I feel the shiver and cold.

It only happens when I'm on my own.

That's how you tell me I'm not alone.

(chorus)

In my head, I see your baby blues.

I hear your voice and I,

I break in two and now there's one of me with you.

So when I need you can I send you a sign?

I'll burn a candle and turn off the lights.

I'll pick a star and watch you shine.

(Chorus)

Beam me up

Beam me up

Could you beam me up?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFYm9LKsuUo

Stupid Star Wars

From the very beginning, I knew there would be things, and times that would trigger emotions and memories of Brittany. One of the first, was when we were coming home from the hospital. As we were turning down our street, I could almost literally see Brittany riding her bike, barefoot, weaving in and out of the road in front of our house. And as we got closer to home, I could see her wandering around in the yard, jumping and doing tricks on our trampoline, stroking her cats, or reading under the front yard tree. I still can see her everywhere I turn, but I have come to almost be able to predict when and where they will be, so I'm not set off as easily. But, there are many times I can't predict. The Christmas holiday was difficult this way, because there is no way of knowing what is going to be played over the p.a. systems at the stores. One of Brittany's favorite cd's was an Amy Grant Christmas cd. Every time one of those songs was played, I could hear Brittany singing along in her room. There have been countless triggers on varying degrees, and I'm sure there will be countless triggers to come.
Over time I have begun to get used to being caught off guard, but not always. Last night was one of those times. Although it was brief, I got triggered so quickly, it almost took my breath away. We were all downstairs watching Return of the Jedi as a family. Light sabors, Jabba the Hutt, Ewoks, death stars, Luke, Leia, and Darth Vader. Near the end of the show is a scene where Darth Vader and the General are trying to turn Luke to the dark side. Luke struggles with this, and has times that he tries to tell Vader that it will never happen, that Vader, instead will not destroy him. He knows Vader loves him as the son he is, and won't let him die. In the end, Vader kills the General and is dying himself. The death star they are on is about to explode and Luke is trying to save them both. Vader knows that his time is short and asks Luke to take off his mask, so that he can look on his son with his own eyes. Luke knows this will kill Vader for sure, but follows through with his request. As Vader starts to slip away Luke tries to assure him that he will be just fine, but it is evident that it won't end that way.
It was at that moment that I had my own flashback. I was laying on the hospital bed next to Brittany, and she was in her coma. I had been laying next to her for hours already, waiting for family to come. I was speaking softly to her, telling her how proud of her I am and how much I truly love her. I was stroking her face and feeling her heart beat next to me. I begged her to wake up, to just open her eyes. Just one time, please baby, just open your eyes. I begged and begged her. I knew she wouldn't. I knew she couldn't. But at that moment, it was all I could do. It was all I could say. I knew this was my last chance to see into her eyes just one more time. It was our last chance to reverse what I knew was going to come. I had to try. At the same time I felt awful to ask such a thing of her. She had already been through so much! How could I ask her to do more? I'm sure she had already been afraid, in pain, and not knowing what was going on, and here I was asking the impossible of her. But I had to try. I had to let her know somehow that I wanted her to fight. I had to somehow fight for her myself, however feeble it may have been. In that moment, I felt so helpless, so useless, it was all I could think of.

An angel in everyone

Leaving the hospital was the first of so many hard times, that looking back I have no idea how I ever had the strength to go through. Our family of 7 was now a family of 6. I was going home with 4 kids, not 5. I now had 3 beautiful girls, not 4. I have come to hate the numbers 6, 4, and 3. They feel unnatural to me. I hate that we can now feed the family with half a dozen of whatever instead of having to buy the full dozen. I hate downgrading. I first realized this as we were leaving the lobby of the hospital floor we were on. As a mother, I am constantly counting noses. Instinctively I am always counting one..two..three..four..five.. over and over to make sure we're all there. As we were filing into the elevator to leave I did it again. One..two..three..four........no five. No five.... The realization that I was walking away from my daughter was overwhelming. I knew I couldn't stay, what else could I do? But I felt as if I had turned my back on my daughter. As we drove, it was all I could do. Count... One.. two.. three.. four...no five... One.. two.. three.. four.....no five...no five...no five...
It was getting late in the day, and we were exhausted. Neither John or I hadn't slept in over 24 hours. We knew it wasn't safe to try to make the 4 hour drive home. We drove mindlessly for awhile. When we decided to get a room, we really didn't care where we would stay. We just wanted a bed. We decided we would stay in the first place we came to. We first came to a Marriott, but they didn't have a adjoining rooms that we needed in order for everyone to have a bed. Next door was a Hampton, and they had the rooms available. As John was checking in, the desk clerk asked what brought us to S.L. He replied simply that we had to take our daughter to Primary Children's, she then asked how she was doing. For the first time, John had to tell her that our daughter didn't make it. This sweet clerk, I'm sure was flustered and somewhat embarrassed. She refused to take payment for the rooms. I hadn't eaten since the morning I first took Brittany to the Dr, and I still didn't want to eat, but my kids were hungry. As we were preparing to leave to find some dinner, the front desk clerk knocked on our door with extra blankets, pillows and a garbage bag full of snack food. My kids felt like it was Christmas. I felt like it was heaven sent. We still left for some real dinner, but having "fun" food was a much needed distraction. The next morning we were a little late getting down to the lobby for breakfast. The same desk clerk was still on duty, and had the maids pull all the food out again that they had just cleaned up, so we could eat and not have to worry about going out. From that point on there were hundreds of small and large acts of sweet service on our behalf. We had Christmas lights put on our house by the time we got home that night, countless meals, grocery shopping, gifts, mementos, letters, flowers, cards, small notes from kids at my school, prayers, fundraisers.. it goes on and on... We had small kids going door to door collecting money for us, other kids cleaning our piggy banks, giving up Christmas presents, selling items, so many things done for us. And many more that I'm sure we will never know about.

I wrote down every card, every donation, every meal, every deed I could to keep track of them all. I haven't been able to start on my thank you cards yet. It feels a little too "final" still to be able to do that. It feels like I'm admitting she's gone. I know that she is, and that I can't change what has happened. But putting it down in words like that is still too much for me to be able to do. So, if you are one of those people, please know we are more appreciative than you will ever know. I want to send you a note, but for now I just can't, and I hope those who have done so much for us know this. In coming posts, I hope to spotlight these acts a little more. My fear is that I will miss some. If I do, I hope there will be no offence taken. Please understand that my brain is barely functioning. It is still a battle to just brush my teeth.

Beautiful even when sleeping

When I was at Primary's with her, and before John and the kids had arrived, the nurses offered to help me clean Brittany up to make her pretty for everyone who was coming to see her. She had been through so much already, and has signs of it. We got her fresh clothes, and we were able to sponge bathe her. As I washed her legs and made my way down to her feet, I couldn't help but remember how she would always run around everywhere barefoot. The bottoms of her feet were always so dirty because of it. That day was no different. Again she had gone
without shoes. This time because she was too weak to put them on, but she wouldn't have wanted them on anyway. As I washed her feet, trying so hard to clean them as best as I could with the wash cloth that had been provided, all that I could think of was how Christ had done the same thing to those he loved also. Our feet carry us everywhere. They bare the weight of a hard day, they skip and run on days that you feel free. They carry us though our lives. Washing her feet felt like the perfect act of service to show her once again how much I love her.

Preparing her for her funeral felt much the same way. I wanted her to look perfect. One of my favorite parts of preparing for Brittany's funeral was getting her pretty. The mortuary had washed her hair, and it felt so soft. Every time we went to go see her, before she was dressed and ready for me to prepare her, I would run my fingers though her hair as I would talk to her. She still felt so alive even though she was still so evidently gone. She was cold, but she was still so much a part of my heart, it felt as though she was about to yawn and stretch and climb right off the bed, ready to go home.  I chose the dress I did because just a few weeks before she passed away, there was a dance she wanted to go to so badly. There was a boy there she had the biggest crush on, and in her own way she was living her own Cinderella story. She felt so beautiful, and that night she really was. I wanted her to feel beautiful in her final place of rest, so I got the dress I knew she loved. She was always so pretty, she never needed make up to look better. But I knew she would liked it, so I put on just a bit. She loved her nails painted. She was constantly sneaking in my room to take my polish. Bold and bright was what she liked the best. By the time I was done, she really was beautiful. I loved just looking at her. My only wish is that I could look into her eyes again. They were so expressive and heartfelt. That might be the thing I miss the most. That and her voice....

One last breath

The last few months have been a whirl wind of event and feelings. In a way I want to forget everything that has happened, but in all reality, I don't want to forget a minute of what has happened. In an effort to not only preserve everything running through my mind, but to also help me grieve and put things into perspective, I have decided to write everything down that I can. I have created this blog for a place to remember and honor Brittany's memory, and also a way to put my feelings down. They may not always make sense, but when do feelings really ever make complete sense? I'm sure many of my posts will not be cheerful, but grieving isn't always cheerful. This blog will be mostly just for me, but I invite you to read along, and see this through my eyes, as I am seeing things. Please be respectful, if I say or do something that you don't agree with, please keep that to yourself. In this blog I am not out to please anyone, I am looking for peace, however that may come. So.... Here is how it all started.....

Just a week or so before Thanksgiving of 2012 Brittany started complaining of pains in her stomach. It wasn't a typical stomach ache. I was concerned of it possibly being appendicitis. I took her to the Dr to see what could be done. Appendicitis was quickly ruled out. It was a major kidney infection. Her levels were way out of whack. At the time it was only a few days before Thanksgiving. Dr Newman suggested to hospitalize Brittany, but said that if we could hydrate her enough, that wouldn't be necessary and we would be able to travel for Thanksgiving like we had planned. With antibiotics in hand and water being constantly given, we were off. She started feeling a little better for a few days, and during that time we celebrated her 14th birthday. She still wasn't feeling great, so it wasn't a big fanfare like we would have normally done for her . But then she started telling me the pain was beginning to return along with a fever. I called the Dr office, and they looked at her test results from the first visit. They told me that according to her numbers, her kidneys were probably just fine, but that she had probably contracted one of the virus's that were going around and her body was fighting them both. So we continued the antibiotics and keeping up on the water. Sunday Dec. 2nd she was presented to the ward as a Mia Maid in the Y.W., she came home from church and went straight to sleep. Now just so you understand, Brittany does not sleep. She has had several issues over the last several years that I won't get into right now that make it so every night we were having to medicate her to help her sleep. So the fact that she came home in the middle of the day and went straight to sleep was alarming. She slept for several hours before I went in her room and asked her if she was ok. She told me her kidneys were hurting worse that ever. I pulled back her blankets to check her and found a rash that covered her entire body. Very alarmed, I called a friend of mine that works as a Physicians assistant at our Dr's office. I told her what was going on, and she called our Dr to see what he suggested. He said that as long as she could pee just a little that meant that her kidneys were still working and we wouldn't need to go to the ER, but even with a full schedule the next day, he would make time to see her. So the following afternoon I took her in. He ran several blood and urine tests on her. Her kidney levels were looking good. The rash he said was scarlatina. He asked if I thought she needed to be hospitalized. I told him I felt that we could put it off for now and that I would continue to watch her closely. He said he wanted to see her again in 48 hours. So home we went. She continued to sleep all day, just like she had since Sunday. Wed morning arrived and as I was getting the other kids ready for school I went in Brittany's room to check on her. I found her vomiting profusely  It was the worst looking bile I had ever seen. 10:00 was our scheduled appointment. By the time I took her in, she was so weak she couldn't walk without being supported by me. She continued to vomit and I was very worried. They took her straight in to a room where she could lay down since anytime I let go of her she would crumble to the floor. Signing her in at the front desk she just laid on the chairs, not able to even sit. Dr Newman was quick to see her and after talking to us briefly concluded that she probably had mono. There is no test to determine if you have mono right now. There are tests that tell if you've ever had mono, but no way to say if you currently have it, or what strain you have. This time I was sure the hospital was needed for her, and Dr Newman quickly agreed. Our office visit was no longer than a total of 20 minutes. By the time we left and had driven across the street to the hospital, Brittany was so weak she could no longer support her weight at all. I carried her into the hospital like a baby. There were two men who saw me carrying her that quickly got me a wheelchair. I wheeled her the rest of the way to the admitting desk, where we continued the process of admitting her. She continued to vomit every few minutes. It took about an hour to get her settled into her room with an i.v. and to answer all the questions and fill out all the forms. Once she was settled and they had given her some medication to help stop the vomiting, I asked her if it would be ok to leave for a little while so I could get an overnight bag. She said she was fine and quickly went back to sleep. I went home, got a change of clothes and anything else I felt I might need. On the way back to the hospital I stopped by her school to let them know she may not be coming back for several weeks, maybe even months since that is the way mono plays itself out, and then left for the hospital again. As soon as I got to her room I checked in with her to see if she was comfortable. Since the time she was admitted, she had times that she would say things that didn't make sense. Random thoughts or even complete nonsense. But I was glad that at this time she was lucid. I asked her if she wanted to listen to some music from my mp3 player. She said no, not then, but maybe later.... Those ended up being her final words she ever spoke. I sat down on the couch to send John an updated text and noticed her legs were hanging off the bed. I went over to put her back in bed when I saw that she was having a grand mal seizure. I yelled down the hall for help. I work with handicapped children every day, and have seen seizures quite often. Seeing your own child have a seizure is horrifying. I was so scared. They took me into another room and called a code blue to her room, that I later learned meant that all the "high ups" were needed immediately. She ended up stopping on her own a few minutes later. She was then quickly taken to the ICU. Dr Newman was there within a few short minutes and more test were to come. Over the next several hours they did lots and lots of tests to see why she had seized. From the tests I learned that her kidneys were actually cleared up of all infection. The CT scan of her brain came back clean, the lumbar puncture that tests for meningitis came back clean, her white blood cell count was not elevated. Every test came back clean, except for her liver. It was inflamed, but that would have been consistent with mono.  Everyone was baffled. When someone has a seizure, it is very difficult on the body and they usually sleep for about 30-45 mins. to regain strength. During that time it can be common to have more seizures, but Brittany didn't at that time. After the resting time they usually "wake up" and are still drowsy, but are awake. Brittany never woke up. There were a few times she would open her eyes, but they were glassed over and she had no control over her body. Her mouth was slacked and she would drool. She didn't/wasn't the same girl. We began to be very worried as to why she wasn't waking up. The meds she was on to prevent more seizures make people drowsy, but she wasn't coming out of it at all. John was able to finally make it to the hospital once he got off work. We had asked Chad Gasser from our ward come by and help give Brittany a blessing. The Bishop Christensen had stopped by at that time and was able to help with it too. They both stayed for some time visiting with us, and helping us to not be alone. Shortly after they left, Dr Newman told us that he was unsure about what was going on with Brittany, that it was beyond his abilities and that he felt she needed to be life flighted to Primary Children's Hospital. We agreed, and they were called. The next couple of hours were very chaotic. I took about an hour for the life flight crew to come. During that hour, Brittany started to seize again and quite frequently. We couldn't get them to stop without giving large amount of medication to her. As the crew came and started getting briefed on all that was going on, Brittany started to spiral down even further. Her blood pressure dropped tremendously, so they had to force more i.v.'s in to keep her pressure up. As they were preparing to load her onto the ambulance (the crew was on a plane, so we had to take an ambulance to the plane) she started to cough. A terrifying cough, that I will never forget, and hope to never hear again. She sounded like a sick horse as she would cough. Then she would pause and not inhale until the very last second when she would gasp and cough again. It took her whole body to cough, her back would arch, the veins in her neck would bulge. Her oxygen levels were fine, so they decided to proceed. A few minutes later, just as they were about to leave, she stopped breathing all together. They quickly unloaded her and brought her back into the hospital. They had to pump her stomach of all the bile she was beginning to throw up again, and start her on a ventilator. But then her oxygen and gas levels were off. They couldn't figure out why, and where unsure of what to do at the time. The head life flight nurse started to notice Brittany was becoming unresponsive to anything. She had been unresponsive the whole time to talking and to touch with the exception of when they would have to do blood draws etc., but now she was unresponsive to everything. They would test her pupils and they wouldn't respond. Even her reflexes in her knees were unresponsive. She called the head Drs at Primary's trying to find a solution. From what they were seeing and hearing, her brain was beginning to swell. They finally got her oxygen levels to a place where we could finally load onto the plane. While in flight, they got her gas levels where they needed to be, but she still needed the ventilator and was still unresponsive. As soon as we got to Primary's there was a team of at least 10 Drs waiting for us. We did the whole run down of what had happened, what meds had been given, health history... everything. They quickly went to work, and I waited. I waited and waited. The staff there was great. There was always someone with me, or close by so that I didn't feel smothered and yet not alone. Audrey  the head life flight nurse was amazing. I love her. She stayed with me all she could, and even when she had to leave to get another patient  she apologized for having to leave, and was back as quickly as she could, just like she promised.  The Drs put in what is called a "bolt". It's a fiber optic sensor that would monitor the pressure of her brain. They had to shave a patch of hair, and she had what looked like a bulky syringe protruding out of her skull.  It wasn't until a couple of hours later, an about 3:30 that morning after asking her what the odds that Brittany would be able to leave the hospital not being handicapped for the rest of her life, that Audrey had to tell me that IF she left handicapped, that would be a blessing. It was then that I realized Brittany would not be coming home with me. There had been several times that nurses would ask when John would be there. The plan had been that he would stay with the kids for a day or two until Brittany was stable, and then he would come up to S.L. and bring us both home. I didn't understand that they were trying to tell me that he needed to be here to say good-bye. I composed myself just enough to call John and my parents. And then I cried some more. Sitting with Brittany meant something different now. These were to be my last few moments with her. My last chance to tell her everything I wanted to tell her in her life. My last chance to try to put in words how very much I love her. Words are impossible to express feelings like these. And at a time like this, there are no words at all. I lay next to her in silence, hoping she could at least feel my love. Feel what I couldn't possibly express to her, no matter how long I had. Johns brother, Adam came to the hospital and sat with me when I needed someone to sit with me. He let me have my alone time with Brittany also, but never left my sight. He was such a blessing to me at that time. I don't think he will ever know how much having him there meant to me. I wouldn't have had the strength to hold on without his comfort at that time. Over the next several hours it was a waiting game that we would eventually lose. Family members came. My brother, Daniel and his wife, Jennifer brought their daughter Lydia and arrived at the same time John and my kids did. They also brought food and activities for my kids to do. They helped distract them, and helped allow them to cry when they needed to. My sister, Andrea came, as well as Johns parents, Mike and Toni, and his sister, Crystal and her husband Brent. Sheldon Barney, a member of our bishopric was already in S.L. at the time and came for several hours to be with us as well. We were hoping to be able to donate Brittany's organs, but in order to do this, there has to be a series of test done. Mostly they are responsive tests, and after 12 hours they do the tests again. If she fails them both times, like we knew she would, they would then pronounce her brain dead and they could proceed to do what they needed to to donate her organs. She went through the first set of tests at about 5:00 that morning, so we where hoping we would have at least 12 hours from then to spend with her. At around 10:45 her heart rate started to drop. The end was nearing, and so much sooner than we had prepared for. We let everyone have time to say their good-byes. Those that wanted some time alone were given it. We said one last prayer as a complete family, and we were each able to listen to her heart beating. Very somberly, we told the Drs we were ready to shut down the machines keeping her alive. We were surrounding her, holding her hand, and I was laying my head on her heart as she slowly slipped away. It was 11:38 a.m. on Thursday Dec. 6, 2012 when I felt her breath leave her sweet body for the last time.

 

After Brittany died, my parents, my sister Teresa, and brother Adam were able to make it to the hospital and spend some time with her body, and visit with us. In the end, none of the Drs feel she ever had mono, including Dr Newman. The cause of death they are giving us at this time is Encephalitis, a virus that attacks the brain. Because it was a virus that killed her, they didn't allow us to donate any of her organs because they feared her other organs were compromised  An autopsy has been done, but the results will still take several more weeks, possibly months to receive  Dr Newman is calling them every few days to see if there is anything new, but we have been told not to get our hopes up that they will find anything in the end.