Lazy Sunday

Laundry, dishes, floors, toilets... There is so very much to do around here. I feel like doing exactly none of it. None. I have accomplished nothing today, except sleeping. I slept the day away. It may sound like a nice way to spend your Sunday, but with all the things that I need to do, I am now filled with regret.

I wouldn't have stayed in bed all day had I not been feeling so badly. My back hurts. Really bad. I actually feel like I could go into labor, although at only 31 weeks, I hope not. This is how I felt shortly before I gave birth to Carson, my only spontaneous birth.

The day that will shape our lives forever, final part 5

I guess there has to be an end to that day, that May 5th. It feels as if it has not yet ended.

I asked everyone to leave so that I could have a few minutes alone with Steve. I wanted to love him, to talk to him, to be angry, to connect... There was so much I wanted from those moments that I knew I couldn't get. I wanted to look into his big brown eyes and see that strong spirit, "the force" as he called it. I wanted him to hold me, though I knew he couldn't. I wanted him to tell me that everything would be alright, just as he had done so many times before. I wanted him to just wake up and walk out of there, but that was not to be either.

The nurse came in to talk to me, disturbing the sobs that I had been holding back for hours. I knew that I needed to tell them about my Steve so that they would be able to better care for him. She asked what seemed like a million questions. Does he smoke? Does he drink? To me it seemed that none of that should matter, although intellectually I knew that it did. I wanted her to know that he hated his feet being cold, and always wanted socks. I wanted her to know that we have 3 little boys, with another on the way, and what a wonderful father this man she was caring for is. I thought that somehow I needed to plead his case, that he needed me to advocate for his right to live, for his right to recover. At that point, not a lot of things going on in my mind were making sense.

The nurse was very professional, my cries and pleas didn't seem to change her attitude toward Steve at all, which I know it shouldn't. Once she was done asking me questions, I had the chance to ask her some questions. I don't remember most of my questions, I am sure I made little sense. I do remember the last answer, and I will never, ever forget it. I will never forget the look on her face, or her long blond, braided ponytail, as see said to me, "We don't know when, or if, he will ever wake up." The matter-of-fact tone almost enraged me. Then she walked away, leaving me alone with my Steve.

I pulled a chair close to his beside and took his hand. He had no visible cuts or bruises. If it weren't for all the tubes and IV's, you would have thought he was just sleeping. I cried, and I quietly begged him to wake up. I pleaded and apologized for every harsh word I had ever said to him. I begged God to bring him back. I lost it a little, but quietly. No one in the unit seemed to notice.

Finally, I looked up to find John painfully watching me cry. He came and took my hand and told me that everything was going to be okay. It was time to go. I once again didn't want to leave my Steve, but I knew I had to. John walked me all the way back to the waiting room, where my Mom was waiting for me alone. Everyone else had gone home.

And so, that day, that day that has changed our lives, and will shape our lives forever, was over. The sun was coming up on the next day. So much changed that day.

So what's the point?

So what exactly is the point of my long, long four part story? I really don't know. The truth is, I am not yet far enough removed from the situation to know what the point might be.

Is there a lesson that I should have learned? I don't know that either. I don't think that me or my family did anything to deserve the pain that we have endured the past 5 weeks, especially my children.

The boys break my heart. I see them look at their Daddy in a new way now. Daddy is not invincible. That is a sad reality for little ones to have to face. Connor and Carson will probably not remember any of this, but I fear that Cadan will always remember the pain and the tears.

I cry every single day. I don't want to. I would love to have many days with no tears. Every day is just so damn sad. I know I am lucky that Steve survived such a horrific accident. I know this, but this knowledge does not ease the pain. Oh, yes, and the fact that I am 30 weeks pregnant doesn't help either.

I just crave normalcy. That doing the same thing over and over routine of life. I just want that. Again.

I also don't want my husband to be in such pain, to have double vision. I want to see his smile and hear his normal voice.

I am just too emotional today...

The day that will shape our lives forever, part 4

It took me a few days to continue. I had a very hard time with that last post. The accident was just about 6 weeks ago, so it is still all very raw for me.


I slowly made my way back to the emergency room waiting area where my family was anxiously waiting for word of Steve's condition. John walked back with me and Kim. She was somehow ahead of us, and John stopped to tell me that I was doing a good job handling everything. It was nice to hear, I felt so weak. He was truly a professional at giving comfort.

I barely remember going back into the waiting area. I just wanted to collapse into my Mom's arms, and let her take everything painful away. I couldn't do that, though. I had to stand strong on my own, after all, this time, I am a Mom.

Kim and I shared what we had seen. There was really no way to describe it. The harsh reality could only be witnessed personally. Steve's friends and family slowly soaked up the news, everyone looked so sad. Jacob and Jim, Steve's 2 best friends, were there. Seeing the obvious pain and grief on the faces of these grown men, who were so close to Steve was so difficult.

The next few hours are very much a blur for me. There was really no concept of time or space. It was almost as if I were in a trance. My emotions were crazy. I was angry, I was hurt, I was every emotion I have ever felt. I think that anger was the most prominent feeling during those first long hours. I was mad that this happened at all. I was mad at Steve for getting on that damn motorcycle. I was mad at Jacob for letting him, even though in reality, I knew Jacob had nothing to do with it. I just wanted it to be someone else. I wanted to turn back time. Just give me a few hours, please, I prayed and begged of God. Then I would think, no, don't do that. I would think if just one small thing were to change, Steve could very well not be here.

I remember looking at my in laws, feeling so terrible that they were having to go through this nightmare. I told them that I was sorry about the accident, and they looked at me with very puzzled expressions. What I meant was I was sorry that they were having to go through this, I would be sorry for anyone, but it was so hard to watch people I love in such pain. For that, I was sorry. I was sorry that they were sitting there wondering if they were going to lose another son, after losing Steve's older brother Chad in 2000. I cannot imagine losing my child. I cannot imagine seeing my child laying there the way Steve was.

Sometime in the night, my sister, Donna, called. She was having a really hard time with everything. She was actually at our church, on the altar where I was saved, praying for Steve. She was crying, but trying to hold it together for me. It was so comforting to hear her voice, to know that she was there at our church talking to God. I don't think that I have ever thanked her for that, I really need to make sure that I do.

My best friend, Mindy called sometime, too. She was just stunned. She offered to come down right away, but she has small children, too, and no sense of direction, so I wanted her to wait at least until morning. The last thing I wanted was for someone else I love to have an accident.

Finally, about 3 am, John reported that Steve was being moved to the Trauma Intensive Care Unit. He said that it would still be about an hour before we would all be able to see him. The ICU team would do a head to toe assessment to see if there were any injuries missed in the ER.

That must have been the longest hour ever. I held my breath every time the phone rang at the desk, every time John looked our way. I was a nervous wreck.

About 5 am, we were escorted to the TICU by John. That hour turned into two hours, as if often the case in hospitals.

The walk was very long from the ER to the TICU. I thought, as we walked those long winding hallways, that there was no way I would ever learn to get around in there. We all seemed to walk very, very slowly, with dread weighing heavily on us all.

John stopped us just before we walked into the TICU and explained the rules a bit. We all had to wash our hands before we were able to go into Steve's room. He explained the visiting hours, we were able to see him 3 times a day, at 10:30 am, 4 pm, and 8:30 pm, for 30 minutes each visit. No one under 14 would be allowed.

We formed a line at the small sink just inside the TICU. Steve was in the very first room, so we could all see him immediately.

One by one, we filed into the stark, sterile room. Everything was bleak and white. There were monitors and tubes everywhere. The beeps from all those monitors and the hum of the ventilator were maddening. We all formed a circle around Steve's bed, some standing closer than others. There was shock all around, as the gravity of the situation planted itself firmly into the hearts and minds of our loved ones.

I stood as close to Steve as I could. I held his hand and stroked his hair. I searched desperately for signs of consciousness, but there were none. I felt that helpless feeling wash over me again.

I became angry with everyone just standing around looking at Steve as if he were dead. Jim came over to comfort me, and I pushed him closer to Steve's bedside. I wanted Steve to know who all was there. I wanted him to feel the comforting touch of those who love him.

I will finish the story of this first day later. I am tired and it is bedtime.

The day that will shape our lives forever, part 3

It seemed like time stood still as I waited to see Steve. Finally, John came to get me to see him for the first time, his Mom, Kim, went with me. I wanted my Mom so bad, but I knew that his Mom needed to see her son.

John tried to prepare me for what I was about to see. There was no preparation that could have cushioned the jolt.

The first thing I saw as we rounded the corner to the trauma room was his feet. There was no doubt, it was Steve.

My Steve. My strong husband. He was bloody, so very bloody. There were tubes everywhere. He was on a ventilator, and he had IV's in both arms. There was a tube draining out of his chest, and a catheter. He was so still, and swollen. He had just been walking around, talking, laughing, smiling, a few short hours before. How could this be? Why, oh, why?

I took a deep breath and listened intently to what the doctor had to say. I needed to concentrate, I had to be strong. My mother in law stood a few feet away, much stronger than I could have ever been. His first words were haunting. "He has multiple life threatening injuries."

As he named the long list of injuries, I felt faint. I kept going from reality to denial, and back again. I kept questioning myself, praying that this was not real at all. Only it was all too real, and I had to snap out of it.

There was an IV going into his right forearm, giving him more blood. There were several in his left arm, giving medications. Those very strong arms, they work so hard for our family. Now, he lay there helpless, at the mercy of the knowledge of these doctors.

When the doctor was finished talking, I made my way closer to Steve. His broken nose was so swollen, his broken neck, too. He could have a stroke at any time. This could be the last kiss, the last time I see him. His hair was matted from all the blood, sticking straight up on end. I touched his face, afraid to hurt him and afraid of falling apart. The nurse said that I could touch him. I stroked his face and hair. I told him I love him and that he would be okay. I just wanted to hold him, protect him. Again, that helpless feeling enveloped me. All I could really do was pray.

It was so hard to walk away. I had to leave him and his life in the hands of strangers. I had to leave half of my soul there, on that table, covered only in a sheet, helpless, in the hands of doctors I had never before met. I walked away, with only my faith in God to sustain me.

I cannot go any further tonight. This is all still so fresh. I am crying too much to continue.

The day that will shape our lives forever, part 2

Breathing and fighting. That was all the news I had to share as I scrambled to call Steve's family on the 70 mile trip to the hospital. I didn't have any phone numbers in my new phone yet, but luckily I had the presence of mind to grab my laptop, I could access my phonebook online. The battery was low, so I had to rely on my scattered memory for those all important phone numbers.



They came to me randomly. The first number I could remember was Jacob's ex girlfriend. I called her to get Jacob's number. I had to be sure that this was indeed my Steve on this motorcycle, I had to be sure that Jacob didn't have Steve's phone for some reason. I was still in denial.



Once I had the number from the ex, I called Jacob. He answered. My heart sank. It couldn't be, but it was. It was indeed Steve on that damn motorcycle. I told Jacob what I knew, that there had been a terrible accident, and that Steve was on his way in a helicopter to the trauma unit, and he is breathing and fighting. He said he would be on his way.



The next call was the hardest. My Mom had Steve's sister, Teresa's, phone number saved in her phone for some reason. I did not have my mother in law's number. I shared with Teresa the same limited information that I had shared with Jacob. You could hear the panic in her voice immediately. She said she would have Kim, Steve's mom, call me right away.



Kim called. She was very stoic and matter of fact as she always is. I held it together very well as I told her the little bit I knew at this point.



Finally, I called Jim, a friend to both me and Steve. He immediately panicked. Actually, it was more than panic, I cannot really describe it. The hurt and fear came through loud and clear. He, too, would meet me at the trauma center.



The ride there is a blur. I remember seeing the mountains. I remember crossing over into Georgia and then back into Tennessee. I remember thinking that this cannot be happening. I thought a lot about our boys, and this baby boy I was carrying in my belly. I wondered how I could make it without my Steve. My Steve. I needed him more now than ever.



I decided on the way there that I would just have to be strong. I would just have to be. What else could I do? I would be strong and rational. I would be level headed. I was determined.



Once we finally arrived, I waited impatiently at the desk in the emergency room for the critical care advocate to get to me. He was on the phone, and I can remember thinking that I wanted to rip the phone from the desk and hurl it across the room. Surely nothing on the phone is that damn important. The irrational thoughts were creeping in.



John, the critical care advocate, finally turned to me. He had the most pleasant smile and caring eyes I think that I have ever seen. I felt rational again. I calmly told him who we were looking for, and why we were there. He looked intently into the computer, asking questions, trying to figure out where my husband was being treated. Then he said, "The John Doe?" No, no...my panic kicked back in, no his name is Steve.



After minutes than hung around like hours, John went into the trauma center to find Steve and get some information for me. I held my breath, preparing for the worst. How bad was it? How bad could it be?



John returned, his face told me so much. It was bad, I knew from the moment I saw him. The doctor's would be out to talk to me soon, right now they were inserting a chest tube into Steve. A chest tube? I knew that was bad.

Shortly after we got word on Steve's condition, Jim's older brother, who works in the ER at the trauma center, came in to check on Steve. He was allowed to go back to see him, which I had not yet been able to do, and give us a more complete assessment of the situation. Again, the news was grim.

I asked for some paper so that I could write down the list of injuries, as it was a pretty extensive list. I felt a strange numbness as the list increased with every new term, some I had only heard on TV watching ER or Grey's Anatomy.

Steve had 2 skull fractures, 2 facial fractures, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, his neck was broken, he had lost a whole lot of blood. He was acidotic, which was the most life threatening condition at the moment. He had also lacerated his kidney.

The acidosis was caused by the major trauma and loss of blood. He had already received 3 units of blood. He was hanging on, but barely.

I sat there, surrounded by family and friends, feeling more alone than I had ever felt in my life. My world was slowly crumbling around me. I could feel the weight of the situation heavily on by shoulders, although, I was surprisingly calm. I had to keep it together for the tiny life growing inside my womb.

The time passed slowly as I waited to see my husband. My Steve. I could do nothing but wait. I felt so very helpless. Questions flooded my mind. What if's crept in and disturbed the calm facade I was so desperately trying to assume.

I will continue later...

The Day that will shape our lives forever Part 1

May 5, 2008.

Sounds like any other day of the year. It was a regular Monday. It was.

It started early, that last day of normalcy. We were up bright and early, Connor and Carson were due for their 1 and 2 year well checks at the pediatrician. We had a morning appointment, so we were out the door fast. I dropped Cadan off with Mom and we were on our way.

The visit went well, although the kids were a little wild. Steve went with me since they were both due for vaccinations that day. Two on one would not work.

Connor weighed in at 38 pounds and 38 inches tall, and Carson weighed 25 pounds and 31 inches tall. Connor is such a big boy, he is off the growth charts. Carson, on the other hand, is just about average.

It was all very... ordinary.

We met Mom and Dad, along with Cadan, for lunch. We had a very enjoyable lunch. Steve usually missed out on most family activities, he had been working crazy hours and 2 jobs for months. He started a new daytime weekend shift the weekend before. It was so nice to have him around.

The boys wanted to go back to my Mom's, or Nana, as they call her. I took Steve home and then I drove back to Mom's. I wanted Steve to be home to sign for a package I had been waiting on, a very important package, my new Blackberry. I had been without it since the previous Thursday. I did not back up the old one before the new one died, so I had lost all of my pictures, contacts, etcetera. Oh, and Steve was finally going to mow the yard, which is one of his most hated chores. At least he had help, his buddy Jacob was helping him.

I went back to Mom's to help get the boys down for their nap before my 1:30 pm dentist appointment. I had broken a tooth the week before, and I needed a filling. It was a quick and easy appointment. Steve called to let me know my new Blackberry had arrived and that he was getting it charged for me. I had my tooth filled and went happily on my way to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner, we were planning on having hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill.

Once I made my way back to Mom's to pick up the boys, she suggested that she cook dinner, and make a taco ring for Steve, he had been requesting one. I accepted her offer, I love not having to cook, and I knew Steve would go for the taco ring. I decided to just hang out there until dinner, I don't remember why.

The boys and I just puddered around the house while Mom worked outside until time to make dinner. About 7:20 pm, Steve and Jacob came by, ready for dinner, but it wasn't ready. I told them that it would probably be another hour. Steve decided to take Jacob back to his truck, he could not wait on dinner.

Carson cried as his Daddy left. I don't even think I kissed him bye. I do remember he was smiling as he left, and he smelled very sweaty. I remember watching him walk away, smiling. He loves his boys so very much.

Mom and I worked in the kitchen, she started the salsa and I worked on the taco ring. Once I popped it into the oven, I decided to call Steve and tell him it would be just 20 more minutes. I thought I should remind him since he is not very punctual.

Steve's cell phone rang to voice mail, but I didn't leave a message. I sent him a quick, "Where are you?" text. As soon as I sat the phone back down, it rang, and it was Steve's phone number on the caller ID.

I answered, inpatient and busy, expecting Steve's voice.

Only, it wasn't. It sounded like Fred. Then, he is asking me questions. Who the hell answered Steve's phone? I told the man on the other end to put Steve on the phone. He asked me who I was talking about. I insisted again that he put my husband on the phone. He asked me to step outside so that I could hear what he was saying to me. The kids were in the music room with Dad, and they were screaming on his microphone.

He finally convinced me to go outside, and I went out onto the front porch. At this point, I was very confused. He introduced himself, and told me he was a police officer. He said something about a motorcycle, then something about an accident. He asked what Steve was wearing, and what he was driving. I told him that he was on the way home for dinner. What the hell was this man talking about?

Like a cold glass of water thrown in my face, what he was saying started sinking in. An accident? A motorcycle?

I opened the front door to the house and screamed for my Mom. It was this desperate, instinctive scream. Almost like a frightened baby.

Immediately, she came running. Still shaken and confused, I tried to repeat some of the information from the officer to Mom. I kept hearing "Calm down, mam." coming from the phone.

I was finally able to get out to Mom that there had been an accident. By then Dad had also come outside, as he had heard my scream over the boys. I asked the officer where Steve was going. He said he was being flown to a regional trauma center from the scene of the accident. What? Flown? He was going 70 miles away. All the officer could tell me is that he was breathing and fighting.

Breathing and fighting. Breathing and fighting. Breathing and fighting.

I must have said that to myself a million times on the long journey to the hospital.

More to come... I am very tired.

Just to introduce myself...

Hello out there in cyberspace! It is very nice to meet you!

My name is Samantha, but please call me Sam.

I am a Mom to 3 boys, Cadan is 4 years old, Connor is 27 months old , and Carson is 15 months old, and I have a fourth son on the way. He will be named Corbin, and he is due to arrive at the end of the summer, August 23.

I have a wonderful husband named Steve. I live in a small town in Tennessee.

I am starting this blog for therapeutic reasons, mostly. I participate in a message board, and I get bloggy there often, so I thought I would start my very own.

I hope that you enjoy reading!