Our last day: Part 2 of 3

Our record of  sweet Caleb's last 24 hours.

February 10, 2012  (7:30 AM-3:00PM)

 We arrived at Primary Children's hospital at around 7:40 AM and were able to see Caleb at 8:00 when the Pediatric intensive care unit opened for parents.  When we entered, Caleb was covered in a sterile cloth while doctors were working on getting a central and arterial line placed.  Because his room was so small, Dallan and I had to sit in the hallway for about a half hour while they placed his lines.  I sat in a chair, watched his monitors and sobbed.  Caleb's oxygen level was around 80 even though he was still being fully ventilated with 100 % oxygen.  I have never seen Caleb saturate oxygen that poorly for so many hours. 

 The attending physician who was just ending his shift came over to visit with us.  He explained they were seeing some really aggressive respiratory infections in their patients, and we needed to know this illness could take his life.   We were heartbroken, yet wanted to be optimistic.  We had been told time after time that Caleb may not be able to recover from illnesses, but he always did.   We pleaded with Heavenly Father to help us.

  After several hours of not ventilating well, the respiratory therapist began to prepare an Oscillator.  As the new attending doctor was deciding whether or not to hook him up, Caleb's Oxygen level rose into the 90's.   We all breathed a sigh of relief.  It looked like Caleb might finally be responding to treatment.  His cheeks turned pink, and for the first time in almost 12 hours I felt like I could breathe.  The medical staff began to clear out of his room, and the nurse worked on getting Caleb situated for the day.  As she prepared to put a catheter in, I explained  it could be challenging to get it in, so she let me hop up on the bed and get it in for him. It felt so good to finally help rather than be a bystander. 

Caleb continued to stay in the 90's so at noon Dallan and I ran down to the cafeteria to get lunch and update our family.  I remember telling my mom that Caleb still wasn't as stable as we hoped, but he looked like he was responding to treatment.  When we returned to Caleb's room, he still looked sweet and pink, and his oxygen levels remained in the 90's.  We sat by his side, held his hands, kissed his cheeks and hoped for the best.        

At about 1:00 PM Caleb's blood pressure suddenly started to spiral.  The attending doctor raced into the room, called a code and immediately began chest compressions.  Caleb's room filled with doctors and staff while Dallan and I stood by in agony as we watched them try to save our little boy.  I have never felt so broken, so afraid or so helpless.  After about 4 minutes Caleb's blood pressure went back up, and he seemed to somewhat stabalize.  At his point the doctor was feeling very nervous.  She stayed in the room  and asked us what our wishes were.  She wanted to know what we wanted to happen if Caleb continued to spiral.  

I can't count the number of times I have had this conversation with doctors. I always entered the hospital with a hopeful heart and the desire to be a good missionary companion for Caleb.  I always tried to help those who cared for Caleb feel his spirit and feel closer to heaven.  My response to our wishes for Caleb was always that he was  "full code" and that I trusted Caleb and Heavenly Father would help us know if it should be otherwise.  Over the years I have prayed and prayed that Heavenly Father would put my heart in the place if it was time to say good bye.  I knew I would never be able to prepare my heart.  I couldn't bear it. So I trusted Heavenly Father would help me if I ever found myself in that moment.    

This time when the doctor asked me that question,  I didn't know what to say. I have never seen Caleb so sick. He has never needed chest compressions before. His oxygen levels had dropped back into the 80's, and his cheeks weren't pink any more. His sweet little body was puffy with fluids and paralized with medication. He hadn't opened his eyes since the previous afternoon. I was so unsettled and unsure. I pleaded for Heavenly Father's help.  Then 20 minutes after Caleb's first set of chest compressions, his blood pressure started to spiral again. The doctor prepared to begin compressions, but Caleb's blood pressure came back up on it's own.

For the next hour Dallan and I agonized about what we should do.  We wanted Caleb to have every opportunity to improve. We didn't want to give up, yet we had never seen him require such aggresive life saving measures before. Then Caleb's blood pressure spiraled again.   His room filled, a code was called and chest compressions began again. My heart completely broke. I couldn't breathe.  I knew his body wasn't responding.   As Caleb's blood pressure stabalized, I turned to the social worker and said, "We need to call our kids."  I called my parents to see if they could bring our boys to the hospital because things weren't looking good.

 I went to Caleb's bed side and hugged him. I rubbed my face in his hair and cried on his cheeks. I held his little hand in mine, and told him how dear he was to me. Then my sweet little boy, who had been paralized by medication for hours, opened his little eye and looked into my heart. And then suddenly, my heart was in that place.  I cried as I whispered how precious he was to me.  I told him how proud I was of him and how much I loved being his mother. I told him that if his little body was too tired, it was okay.  Then my precious boy, who was never able to purposfully grasp anything with his hands, squeezed my hand twice.

Dallan was standing on his other side and was also holding his hand. As Dallan shared some quiet moments with him, Caleb also squeezed his hand several times. Our sweet son found a personal moment to tell us individually that he loved us and that it was time to say good bye.