Dallan's BYU Devotional

As a brand new missionary in England, I was assigned to the southern coast for my first area. One Sunday afternoon, my companion and I decided to go tracting in the small town of Sandwich, located just a few miles north of the white cliffs of Dover. After a few hours knocking on doors, feeling like we must have talked to every living person in the place, and without any success at all, we sat dejectedly down on a nearby bench.

Although it was summer time, as sometimes happens in England, it was a rather cold and damp day. Feeling downcast due to the lack of response in our efforts to share the Gospel, my companion tried to lighten the mood by remarking, “It’s okay, Elder. It could be worse. It could be one degree colder right now.”

His comment was well-received and hit home. Life really wasn’t bad. We were in a beautiful country. We had the Gospel. We were missionaries on the Lord’s errand. In fact, I had more blessings than problems. I felt much better knocking on doors the rest of the afternoon, armed with an enlightened attitude and a purer perspective – although I was still cold, still damp, and still wished someone would listen.

As insightful and perceptive as was my companion’s point – that “It could be worse; it could be one degree colder” – what happens when it does get one degree colder? Or, for that matter, what happens when, metaphorically speaking, it gets 10 or even 50 degrees colder? What happens when the pressure is on, the crowd is watching, and the game is on the line?

In a college environment, what do you do when the homework is grueling, the exams are punishing, the roommates are exasperating, and the longed-for eternal companion is not materializing? Or after college, what do you do if you don’t land a job, get laid off, have stress in your marriage, have poor health, or your teen-agers don’t listen? In those times of trial, despair, fear, and worry, I say that is the time when the stage is best set for God to show forth his power. Indeed, it is often in the most dire of circumstances that God’s arm is revealed most miraculously.

Miracles require faith and generally some amount of courage and hope on our part, as well as trust that God will always do his part. We must also remember that God’s ways are not our ways. His response to a given situation might be different than what we want to have happen. In addition, the timing of his response could vary greatly from our expectation of timing. Yet in all cases, God’s involvement in our lives is carefully crafted to bring about the greatest good. For “he doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of the world.”

Find courage and hope

Several years ago, I gave a lesson in my elders quorum based on the First Presidency message in the July 2004 Ensign written by President Thomas S. Monson entitled “Miracles of Faith.” One part of the lesson particularly struck me because of the uniqueness of a principle that I had not previously considered, which afterwards became even more personally poignant because of imminent events that were about to occur in our home. 

From time to time, the Lord puts certain truths into our hearts that affect our future destiny. We may not fully understand his reason for teaching us these principles at these particular times. Instead, it is often once we have passed through the ensuing experiences that clarity comes. We can then look back, through life’s lenses, and more fully see that God does prepare a way for us to accomplish what he commandeth.

Part of President Monson’s message that I shared with my elders quorum read:

“Mothers and fathers who anxiously await the arrival of a precious child sometimes learn that all is not well with this tiny infant. A missing limb, sightless eyes, a damaged brain … greets the parents, leaving them baffled, filled with sorrow, and reaching out for hope.

There follows the inevitable blaming of oneself, the condemnation of a careless action, and the perennial questions: “Why such a tragedy in our family?” … “How did this happen?” “Where was God?” “Where was a protecting angel?” If, why, where, how—those recurring words—do not bring back the lost son, the perfect body, the plans of parents, or the dreams of youth. Self-pity, personal withdrawal, or deep despair will not bring the peace, the assurance, or help which are needed. Rather, we must go forward, look upward, move onward, and rise heavenward.

It is imperative that we recognize that whatever has happened to us has happened to others. They have coped and so must we. We are not alone. Heavenly Father’s help is near."

What struck me was that the 'absence of the miracle' could actually be a miracle in and of itself. The premise being that as God's ways and thoughts are higher than man's, at times the Lord may choose to provide a miracle counter-intuitive to what we may want – knowing full well his end purpose. And because of the absence of the miracle fixed in our minds, he's better able to help us grow, and thus become happier than we ever could have been had we received the desired miracle for which we had prayed.

At the time I naively thought my impression of that principle was because I had given a blessing to the daughter of a family I home taught, hoping that a dramatic recovery would spark the family back into activity. When the little girl ended up in the hospital that same day, I thought the absence of the miracle would somehow bless their life more than had she been miraculously healed. However, little did I suspect then the extraordinary experience amongst the challenges that the Lord was already engineering.

About a month later, we went to an ultra sound appointment to see whether my expectant wife, April, was having a boy or a girl. We learned that we were having our third son. We also learned that there were severe physical complications afflicting his body. He was missing large portions of his brain, his skull wasn’t properly shaped, and the doctors weren’t even sure if he would survive till delivery. During the ensuing weeks it seemed that every time we received additional information, it was bad news. I still remember sitting in a room in the Brewster Building, across the street from the Wilkinson Center, when my wife called to tell me the latest update – that our son didn’t have a right eye. Thinking back to my mission companion, it certainly felt like it was much worse than one degree colder.

With faith, and in order to pray more specifically and effectively for our unborn son, we decided on his name him early. (Normally we waited till we actually saw our children to make sure they matched their names.) We chose the name of Caleb, after the Old Testament Israelite who was a companion to Moses and Joshua and was noted for his fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds.

Caleb survived his birth, though it became quickly apparent that he would be very much like a newborn baby throughout his entire life. He would never walk. He would never talk. He would never feed himself or be able to so much as hold his head up on his own. When asked how long we might expect him to live, the doctor replied, “Take him home and never bring him back to the hospital. We can’t do anything for him. Enjoy him all you can. You have a few weeks to a few months; outside chance of a year, possibly two.”

I remember being terrified as we walked out of the hospital with our little boy to take him home. The number of machines and medical equipment we needed to sustain his life was overwhelming. The possibility of losing him was a constant fear. Simply feeding him required an extraordinary effort as he needed to eat every three hours. The process to eat took one hour to complete. This involved waking up all throughout the night: start the pump, sleep for an hour, stop the pump, sleep for two hours, start the pump, sleep for an hour, and so on.  We wondered how we would keep ourselves alive, let alone our fragile son.

Thankfully the Lord blessed us with many miracles in what appeared like a hopeless situation. Angels in the form of ward members, family, friends, and medical personnel came to our aid. We literally had meals brought in for three months. We had a competent and caring nurse, a doctor who made house calls, and family and neighbors that prayed mightily in our behalf. We could feel heaven’s hand upon us. I felt angels walked our hallways and sat in Caleb’s room. Our three-year old son told us that sometimes he saw Jesus peeking in our windows.

In Caleb’s baby blessing I promised him that he had completed his task on earth by being born and that he could now rest for a time. This was not the plan for Caleb and his mother. In some kind of pact that I have yet to fully understand, Caleb and April bargained with heaven to do a greater work. God had matched them up perfectly: Caleb, with his fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds, and April with her mother’s love and daring optimism.

April purposefully chose hope and trust in the Lord. To her core, she is happy and optimistic. With God’s help, she took what could have been a terrifying trial and reshaped it. She took a corner of heaven and pulled it right down into our home – opening it up for all to enjoy. Every day became a celebration with Caleb. She made him a birthday cake after his first week, cupcakes for his second week, cookies for his third week, and so on. She celebrated everything about Caleb; for every day was truly a once in a lifetime experience for the boy who was sent home without hope.

In what might have looked like a burdensome task to others, caring for Caleb became a privilege. Though his body was misshapen and broken, his spirit was whole, noble, and great. Being in his presence was healing and heavenly. I love my wife and thank her, Caleb, and Heavenly Father for making the time with Caleb not only possible but powerful. It was indeed heaven on earth.

Even his missing eye was a blessing. It became his distinctive feature. People were drawn to him, especially children. They would often ask, “Where is his eye? What happened to him?” I would usually say that Caleb was a pirate, or that a bear had eaten his eye. But my wife would explain that in our family, a wink meant I love you. Before Caleb was born, we told our boys that he would only have one of his eyes. They were concerned for their brother. “Don’t worry,” she would say. “He will just wink at us every day!”

Caleb was never able to tell us he loves us with words, but he told us every day with his wink. His little wink was a daily message of love from heaven. He brought the love of God and light of Christ into the lives of all who knew him. His winking eye was a sweet reminder of his deep love for all of us.

Hope and courage have always characterized the righteous. Ever the optimist, Joseph Smith was once quoted as saying:

“I should never get discouraged, whatever difficulties should surround me, if I was sunk in the lowest pit of Nova Scotia and all the Rocky Mountains piled on top of me, I ought not to be discouraged but hang on, exercise faith and keep up good courage and I should come out on the top of the heap.”

It was this type of faithful fortitude that saved the Nephites from the decree of death declared by the unbelievers if the sign of Christ’s birth did not come. It came the very night that Nephi prayed. Likewise, a measure of firm faith and trust in God preceded the parting of the Red Sea; saved Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from a fiery furnace; and helped David defeat a giant.

Recognize God’s ways are higher

However, not all miracles deliver. Sometimes, according to God’s purposes, miracles are seemingly withheld in order for his greater designs to develop. After all, Abinadi was burned at the stake, the Mormons were driven out of Jackson County, and Joseph Smith was martyred at Carthage Jail. Or, on a less important scale, but still significant to those involved: lost puppies may not be found, testing center prayers may not be immediately answered, and Church basketball games may not be played with good sportsmanship in spite of prayers offered otherwise.

But that doesn’t mean God is absent, or doesn’t care, or hasn’t provided a miracle. I say again, that it is at those times, when it is 10 degrees colder, that God is involved, he does care, and is performing his work. We must remember that “as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are [his] ways higher than [our] ways, and [his] thoughts than [our] thoughts.”

Just imagine what would happen if miracles were left up to us. In my arena of athletics, it would probably go something like this: the Church is true. The Church is the sponsoring organization of BYU, the Lord’s university. The BYU sports teams are flagships of the university. Therefore, no BYU team should ever lose, which would be irrefutable evidence that the Church is true. What a blessing this would be to the growth of the Church. I can picture the missionaries talking to an investigator: “Bro. Jones, as you know, the BYU football team has never lost, the basketball team has won every national title, and each of our golfers gets a hole in one on every swing. Don’t you think it’s about time you were baptized?”

Obviously the Lord does not work this way. A plan where supposedly everything would go right and so nobody would be lost was already proposed and rejected. The plan of salvation, on the other hand, allows for opposition in all things: sadness and sweetness, wrongdoing and repentance, trial and testimony.

With so much opposition in our lives at times, it seems like God chooses to work through underdogs. Take Gideon of the Old Testament for example. Israel was in bondage to the Midianites. God called Gideon to deliver them. He raised an army of 32,000 men. 

“And the Lord said unto Gideon, The people that are with thee are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hands, less Israel vaunt themselves against me, saying, Mine own hand hath saved me.” God asked Gideon to reduce his army to 10,000, which was still too many. God then asked him to reduce his force even further; to just 300 men to go against a foe who were “…like grasshoppers for multitude; and their camels were without number, as the sand by the sea side for multitude.”With the help of God and against all odds, Gideon and those 300 men bested the Midianites and their tens of thousands.

God is clearly not limited by the same constraints that obstruct our mortal way. Left on their own, Gideon and his 300 would have had little chance for victory. Gideon was not alone. Nor is he the only instance of God using small and simple “means to bring about his great and eternal purposes.”God took Enoch, a lad, slow of speech and walked with him. “And so great was the faith of Enoch that he led the people of God, …and he spake the word of the Lord, and the earth trembled, and the mountains fled, even according to his command; and the rivers of water were turned out of their course;…and all nations feared greatly, so powerful was the word of Enoch, and so great was the power of the language which God had given him.”

God also took former Egyptian slaves and molded them into the mighty Israelite nation. He turned a fisherman into a chief apostle. And he shaped a plow boy into a prophet. The Lord himself came in the most humble of circumstances – a babe in a manger born into a carpenter’s family, who would become Lord of lords, King of kings,and Savior of worlds without end.

Trust God           

Such miraculous transformations come as a result of trust in God’s plan. One night for family scripture study, we read the account of the “man which was blind from his birth.” This caused “his disciples [to ask] him, saying Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?” Seeing the obvious parallel in our own home, our young sons asked why Caleb was born blind. In the next verse, the Lord provided our response: “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him." Then Jesus healed the man so that he could see.

Caught up in the grandeur of the story, our boys asked whether I could heal Caleb. I stammered some kind of response that I didn’t feel it was the Lord’s will for Caleb to be healed. I added that often the healings recorded in the scriptures were performed by Jesus, prophets, or apostles - very righteous men commissioned by God to perform miracles for specific purposes of blessing the lives of those involved and increasing the faith of those who would eventually read these stories.

Not to be put off, and possibly sensing my apprehensive response, my boys faithfully concluded that it was time to appeal to a higher authority. It so happened that we were going to the Church Administration Building later that week to attend the setting apart of my dad as a mission president by one of the Brethren. Knowing that we would be meeting an apostle, my sons requested that I ask him to heal Caleb.

Talk about being put between a rock and a hard place. How could I sustain their faith without selfishly imposing on an apostle? I compromised with my boys by telling them that I would not ask for a blessing on Caleb, but that we would leave it in the hands of the Lord.

It was a wonderful occasion to be with my dad as he was set apart and to be in the presence of one of the Lord’s special witnesses. He was not inspired to heal Caleb. As we walked out of his office, he stopped at Caleb’s stroller, bent down, and kissed him.  He told him three times that he loved him. He then shook my hand and hugged my wife while whispering in her ear, “I am so proud of you.” In the sight of God, Caleb did not need healing. Instead it was me that left that office peacefully whole.

Rely on his timing

Trusting in God means that we also trust in his timing. The man in the New Testament story was blind from birth. I’m not sure how old he was, but that miracle was years in the waiting. Then one day the Master came along and healed him. “In his own time, and in his own way," God will respond.

As an example of the Lord’s timing in my life, I had been at my new job in the BYU Athletic department for about three weeks when I had to go down to Las Vegas for a business meeting as part of the conference basketball tournament. I woke up very early to make the long drive down there in time for my 12pm meeting. My wife and I prayed fervently I would make it safely. Caleb had been in the hospital for a few weeks and we had been pulling many late nights to be with him. Despite every precaution and physical effort I could make, just outside of St. George I fell asleep in the blink of an eye while driving full speed down the freeway.

I woke up to find myself heading down a hill into the median dividing the highway – one set of tires on the pavement, the other set in the weeds and gravel. I quickly spun the wheel to take me back on the road, but this only caused me to do a 180 degree turn across the lanes of traffic. Thankfully no other cars were near me. Once I got to the far right side of the road, I had the fleeting thought that I could pull it off and would be able to stop the car on the right shoulder. Not so. I think the car was still travelling about 60-70 miles per hour when I slammed into the sand and sagebrush, flipping the car over.

Eventually the car came to an abrupt stop with me hanging upside down by my seat belt. I undid the catch and fell to the floor, which was now the roof of the car. It was impossible to open any of the car doors. They were all wedged shut because the car had become fairly flattened to the ground. I climbed through a window since all the glass in the vehicle had shattered.

Besides a bruised and embarrassed ego, I was completely unharmed. The only cut I had was a small slice on my hand where a piece of glass had stuck me when I released myself from the seatbelt and fell to the ground. After being checked out by the police (who also issued me a ticket), my sweet Grandmother who lived in St. George somehow let me borrow her car so I could finish my trip to Las Vegas. I walked into my meeting about 15 minutes late.

The hard part was telling my boss, Tom Holmoe, who was also at the basketball tournament, that I had destroyed a University vehicle during my first month on the job. To make a bad situation worse, my seat at the basketball game following the meeting happened to be directly in front of President Samuelson. I spent the whole of the game pulling glass out of my hair as inconspicuously as possible.

In my mind, the timing of that wreck was life turning one degree colder. I was trying to make a good first impression at my job. My wife and I were doing our best to take care of a sick child. We had prayed for safety.

The Lord’s timing and purpose were made clear over the following days and months. Tom is a great boss and has never held the accident and the loss of the car against me. The University eventually replaced the car, but thankfully didn’t have to replace me – because I was still alive. The Lord had preserved me from what should have been a fatal accident. Having come so close to death helped me more fully appreciate my life and all the people around me. I especially enjoyed the time spent with Caleb late at night when I would wake up to take care of him. Not only did it mean I was still alive, but Caleb was too.

There were times when I thought Caleb would live a long time. He had so often successfully battled sicknesses and surgeries, illnesses and infections. He had been to the hospital many times, but always came back to us. We loved having him in our home. Caleb could have quickly returned to heaven, but instead he brought heaven to us for seven years.

Twenty-five days ago, in the timing of the Lord, Caleb slipped peacefully away, being held in the arms of his mother and surrounded by his family. He had spent a courageous day fighting with his might against a vicious infection brought on by pneumonia. The wonderful doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel at Primary Children’s Medical Center had done all they professionally could to keep Caleb alive. His body was simply too worn out.

I have heroes in my life: Joseph Smith, Captain Moroni, Ammon, and others. On that day, my wife was my hero. She bravely and tenderly leaned down to hug Caleb. She whispered in his ear, “I love you, Caleb. I am so proud of you. If your body is too tired, it’s okay. You can go back. You can return to Heavenly Father.”

For over seven years her love and God’s will had allowed Caleb to be a significant part of our earthly experience. But in the very moment when it was needed, her heart changed. She could let him go. She trusted God because she knew God. She knew that God could understand her personally, in a way that few others could. For God had also lost a son. And through the Atonement of that Son, God can do miracles. He can forgive a sinner. He can save a lost soul. He can heal a broken heart.

With God nothing is impossible; especially when life is hard and it is 10 degrees colder outside. “But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.” God provides the plan, and we contribute the faith and courage. We trust in his timing and in his ways to achieve his purposes; even when, and probably especially when, such purposes may be unclear from our perspective.

At a stake conference not too long ago, I had an interview with a visiting authority. He learned about Caleb as part of our discussion. Acknowledging the hard work it took to care for Caleb, I thought he would then encourage me to keep it up and to faithfully persevere in the service and sacrifice I was providing. Instead, his next four words entirely transformed my relationship with Caleb. He simply said: “You are being exalted.”

All this time I had thought that we were taking care of Caleb. But in reality, God through Caleb had been taking care of us. God was making a miracle where I hadn’t expected. He was performing a miracle on me, and on my wife, and on our kids, and on all those coming into contact with Caleb. Having Caleb in our home was an honor and a privilege. It was also sacred.

With faith, courage, hope, and trust, God will bless us…no matter how cold our life may feel. I know that God loves us. I know that he hears us and heals us. And I know that he is exalting us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Disneyland

In June of 2004 Dallan and I packed up our two little boys to begin our first family trip to California!  We were headed to Los Angeles for a family wedding and planned to visit Disneyland while we were there!  On our way I called my dad and told him we were expecting!   The little one we were expecting was our sweet Caleb.    He experienced Disneyland tucked right beneath my heart.

Tonight, 7 years later, I am packing up our car for our second family trip to California.  This time we all have Caleb tucked in our hearts.

Several days after Caleb passed away Dallan and I knew we needed to do something joyful as a family.  We knew we needed to make a happy memory together to help ease the ache in our hearts.  We talked about taking the boys to Disneyland but knew we would need to wait for a while and make sure we had covered all of Caleb's funeral expenses.

A few days later Dallan's wonderful boss and his wife came to visit with us.  They shared with us that they and Dallan's friends at work were putting together a Disneyland trip for us.  

Words cannot express the tender feelings in my heart.  

How did they know?

How do we thank people for being an answer to our quiet and tender prayers?

How do we share what a blessing it has been to see our children's hearts lifted as they anticipate such a joyful adventure?

I may never know the specifics of who was involved, but I am praying that each person will be blessed to know in a deeply personal way how dearly they have blessed our family.

In Mitchell's prayers he keeps asking Heavenly Father to help Caleb get resurrected so he can come with us....Even though that prayer might not be answered so quickly... I know Caleb will be with us, and he will be a special part of a joyful memory together... tucked sweetly in our hearts.

Caleb's Funeral

There were angels taking pictures at Caleb's funeral. These photos were taken by a friend of my sister in law who doesn't even know me well but was willing to take pictures of our tender day. She is an angel indeed. 

My sweet Sister Arianne also took pictures.  I'll share some of them once I've had a chance to go through them all.

I am so thankful for angels who were willing to capture our most tender moments as a family.

Thank you with all of my heart.

Lucky in Love

Happy St. Patrick's day Caleb!

We truly are lucky in love...

One Month: Wink Day

The first time we went back to Caleb's grave, it was just Dallan and me.  A sweet friend gave us a temporary marker so we went to put it on Caleb's special place.  We spent some quiet and tender moments together missing our precious son. 

  We have visited Caleb's grave several times as a family, but plan to make it a special tradition on the 10th of every month.

This weekend, marked our first month without Caleb. 

One month... it seems like an eternity, yet it seems like just yesterday we said goodbye.   

We're calling the 10th of every month our wink day.  We brought balloons to tie on Caleb's marker, and we also brought balloons we could let go.

I also bought each of us a special wink journal. In them we each wrote something special we will do to share a wink this month. 

After the boys wrote in their journals, they were able to let their balloons go.

It helped us all feel closer to heaven to watch the balloons soar into the sunshine.

Matthew has been missing Caleb terribly.  This weekend was the first time he was even able to bring himself to go into Caleb's room.  On wink day he brought a special note he wrote for Caleb to attach to his balloon.

It took a couple of balloons to hold it up, but he was so excited to send it off.

His smile soothed the ache I had in my heart that day.

When Dallan's Dad dedicated Caleb's grave, he promised it would be a place of peace.  I am so thankful to have a beautiful place where we can have special time together as a family. 

I know wink day will become one our favorite family traditions.  I know our journals will become personal treasures as month after month we carefully consider ways we can continue to share a little "wink."

Oh how we miss you Caleb.  One month is such a long time...

Our Last Day (part 3 of 3)

Our record of sweet Caleb's last 24 hours

(February 10, 2012  3:00 PM -9:30 PM )

Caleb's blood pressure remained  dangerously low, and he wasn't saturating oxygen well.   We were so tender.

We knew.

I turned to the doctor and told her we just wanted to hold him.  We asked if the nurses could move us to a more private room so that our little family could gather and say good bye.  We moved into a new room at around 3:00 PM.  I pulled Caleb's favorite lotion out of my over night bag, and Dallan and I filled our hands.  We gently rubbed sweet smelling lotion all over Caleb's little body just like I did every morning.  I rubbed his favorite fruity chapstick on his lips and kissed them over and over. 

Then I asked the nurses if they could hold up all of his wires and cords.  Dallan picked Caleb up while I slid underneath him so I could hold him on my lap.  I wrapped my arms around his body and closed my eyes.  My heart was filled with his spirit.  In the midst of my heart break, Caleb comforted me.  He filled my heart with courage.  He gave me peace.  We shared our hearts with one another they way we did every day when I held him on my lap. 

We didn't need words. 

We never did.  

Dallan and I shared a quiet and sacred hour with him.  We knew he was fading quickly.  My parents and our little boys arrived at around 4:30.  Our boys were heart broken as they hugged him, bathed his cheeks with their tears and said good bye.  Matthew begged "please don't leave me Caleb, you're my best friend..."   Each of my boys were blessed with the opportunity to hug him and tell him how much they loved him.   Dallan and my dad gave Caleb a tender blessing, then my dad took our boys into another room. 

The nurses then helped Dallan and I move to a couch.  Caleb was carefully laid in my arms and Dallan gently held his legs and feet.  Caleb melted into my arms and our hearts melted with him.  We covered him with our tears and held him close.  We whispered how dearly he was loved and how proud we were of him.  We held him for about 20 minutes as we quietly watched his blood pressure and oxygen levels fall.  I whispered "Caleb, I love you... It is such a privilege to be your mother."  We watched Caleb take two sweet breaths then pause.  Then he took two more little breaths and sweetly passed from my arms to God's.  My heart broke, and Caleb's spirit filled it.  His spirit was so close.  We knew we were in the presence of greatness. 

My dad brought my boys back into the room, and Mitchells' first words were, "Oh... now we have a Celestial Kingdom brother..."  It was more tender than words can express to watch my boys hold Caleb.  They kissed his face and held his hands. They wrapped their arms around him and never wanted to let go.   Matthew pleaded, "Please stay close to me Caleb, please stay close..."  My other family members who were there also had the opportunity to hold Caleb and say good bye.  There was an overwhelming feeling of love... heaven was so close.        

Now I lay me down to sleep arrived to take our last pictures together, then everyone left except for Dallan and me.  I wrapped Caleb in my arms and held him for almost two and a half more hours.  That time was precious for us.  We knew Caleb was there.   His little body continued to radiate with light and love.  We knew we were encircled by heavenly hosts, and we could feel Caleb wrapping his arms around us. 

My hardest moment was laying him down.  I couldn't do it.  It was breaking my heart.  Then Dallan gently reminded me we had three little boys who needed their parents to tuck them in on their hardest day.  Knowing our little boys needed us gave us the courage to lay Caleb's precious body down and say good bye.     

As we walked down the hallway and out the doors of Primary Children's hospital, our minds were flooded with memories of the first time we walked down that corridor.  We had our tiny Caleb in his car seat and were surrounded with equipment to take home with us.  We were so worried about how we would ever be able to keep him alive.  And now  as we walked through those revolving doors for the last time, we wondered how our lives would ever go on without him.

As we drove home we were quiet. Our world had stopped.  Our hearts ached, our tears flowed.  When we arrived at our home, we said good bye to my parents who had been caring for our boys then prepared everyone for bed.  Matthew was sobbing in his room and said, "I can't do this...Dad, can you give me a blessing?"  Dallan proceded to give each of the boys a blessing of comfort and peace. 

This was our hardest day, yet we know the Lord was with us.

We know  Caleb wanted his last weeks to be home with us, and that is why it wasn't evident that he needed the hospital until the last moment.

We know Caleb was willing to endure a hard day in the hospital so we could have the peaceful reassurance that doctors had done everything medically possible to help him.

We know how deeply Caleb loves us and know he stayed with us as long as he possibly could.

We know Caleb wanted to say good bye to each one of us personally.

We know Caleb wanted his brothers to be there before he returned to Heavenly Father.

We know when Heavenly Father asks something extra tender of us,  He blesses us with extra tender Mercies.

We know that He knows best how to comfort us, because He too lost a Son.
We know that Caleb is a noble soul, and he will continue to be with us.

We know we are a forever family.

 Caleb's story never really was about what we did for Caleb... It is about what Caleb did, and continues to do for each of us.  

We are forever changed...and forever thankful.

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.

Our last day: Part 1 of 3

Our record of sweet Caleb's last 24 hours.

(February 9, 2012 6:00 PM -February 10, 2012 7:00 AM)

I haven't known how I would ever be able to write about our hardest days.  However, I know it is important for me and our little family to have record of what happened.  Because there are so many details I don't want to forget and so many tender mercies  intertwined in our most tender hours, I need to record this chapter of Caleb's story.  Though the details are hard, is my prayer that as you read about Caleb's last hours your heart will be touched by his love and light.  I hope you will feel the Lord's embrace as we have.  I hope that you will feel of our love, the Lord's love and Caleb's love.

Caleb hadn't really been feeling well since December.  He battled one virus after another which was typical for Caleb in the Winter.  We were watching Caleb carefully for signs of pneumonia, but there was no indication that his illnesses had developed into a secondary infection.  I was watching carefully, his nurses were watching carefully and his pediatrician was as well.  It had been almost 4 weeks since his last doctor visit, and I was debating whether it was time to take him back in to make sure his lungs were still okay.  I always thought twice before taking him to the pediatrician because I was so worried about exposing him to more illnesses.  The night of  February 8th, I knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father.  I pleaded "If there is anything going on with Caleb, please make it evident so I know what to do."
The very next day, He did.

The next morning, Caleb was more lethargic, but being lethargic also wasn't uncommon for Caleb so I continued to watch him carefully.  He had vision therapy that morning and seemed peaceful and restful.  His oxygen numbers were still in normal range, and he was extra snugly.   Later that afternoon as I was holding him on the couch  I saw his color start to change.  His oxygen numbers still looked good, but I could see his color turning more pale and could feel his body temperature getting colder.  Those are definite signs that Caleb has pneumonia so I made a 6:00 PM appointment with the pediatrician.  I took Caleb in for his appointment, and the doctor confirmed  he did indeed have pneumonia and suggested I take him to Utah Valley hospital.  I have always taken Caleb right to Primary Children's hospital, but because there was a wonderful doctor on call at Utah Valley and an excellent respiratory therapist, I decided to go there and be closer to home.   I was very optimistic we would be in the hospital for the IV medication he needed and that we would be home in no time. 

We arrived at the hospital between 7:30 and 8:00 PM .  We were checked right in and an IV was quickly placed so medication could be administered.  A chest x ray showed that Caleb's left lung was completely white, and the pneumonia was severe.  Shortly after we arrived Caleb started having blood come out of his trach (another sign he had a respiratory infection) and he started needing more oxygen.  His body temperature was still really low so they put a bubble blanket over him to help him warm up.  It took a couple of hours to get him on a ventilator, but he seemed to respond well once he had some extra support.  I called Dallan at around 10:30 PM  and was feeling quite confident that Caleb was stable and would have a peaceful night.

About an hour later, Caleb didn't seem to be ventilating well.  His oxygen numbers weren't where they should be even though he was on the ventilator with 100 % oxygen.  The respiratory therapist and doctors started to become quite concerned.  They were watching his blood gasses carefully and changed his ventilator settings to function like an Oscillator.  They turned him onto his stomach and propped him up to see if that position would help him move air better. I was really worried that Caleb might be headed to a sepsis state.  The only other time he hasn't responded well to being on a ventilator was his last severe pneumonia which went septic and quickly brought him into a critical situation.

The doctors were also watching his lactate levels closely.  That number shows whether or not the body tissues are getting enough oxygen.  That number started to rise, and Caleb also started to have diarrhea.  Caleb's blood pressure also started to drop so they had to start him on Dopamine. The nurses had to continually give him fluid to help his blood pressure so he started to look really puffy.  In a matter of hours Caleb went from being quite stable to being critically sick. I turned to the doctor who I greatly admire and asked him if he would be willing to give Caleb a blessing.  He kindy agreed and grabbed another doctor to assist him.  He gave Caleb a very sweet and optimistic blessing that he would respond to treatment and return home to his family who loves him dearly. 

At  4:30 AM Caleb's lactate level rose to a high enough number that the staff started to communicate with primary children's hospital about assembling a flight team.  I called Dallan who was taking care of the boys at home and asked him to come to the hospital because things weren't going well.  My mom met him at our house and spent the rest of the night with our boys.  Dallan arrived at around 5:00 AM and the flight team arrived shortly after.

 

At this point Caleb was not stable.  Even though the flight would only take 10 minutes, transporting him was quite precarious because he was needing so much support. The wonderful staff got him all ready to go and wrapped him up in a snuggly bag to keep him warm on the flight.  Dallan and I weren't able to fly with him because there was so much equipment, but we quickly followed.  We made it outside in time to see the flight team loading him in the helicopter.  We saw them take off in the early morning light and  drove to Primary Children's as quickly as we could.

We knew Caleb was sick... really sick... but Caleb has been really sick many times and has always been able to get better. As worried as we were, we were still very hopeful that Caleb would recover.

We drove to the hospital as the sun rose, not knowing  we would drive home after the sun set without our little boy.