a staff like no other - 10/20/13 - 0w3d

Three hours and six minutes. That's how long we knew Joshua outside of the womb on this earth. 

Eternity. That's how long we will get to spend with him when God calls us home too. And we can't wait. 

Katy's operation began on Thursday morning at around 10:45 am. I was brought in just after 11:00. Shortly after, I met my second son David, then my third son Samuel, and finally my fourth son, little Joshua. David cried right away, Samuel right before he was laid on the resuscitation bed, and Joshua never did. While sitting next to my wife's covered body, we did the only thing we could in that moment: we prayed. While Joshua never did take a breath on his own, he did live longer than we thought he ever would. Both of us deep down were concerned we'd only get five to ten minutes with him. By all accounts, we should have. No amniotic fluid, no evidence of any kidneys, no lung tissue. And yet, somehow he survived off the ventilator for three hours while only gasping on average once every fifteen minutes. Joshua's tiny heart was pumping enough blood-carrying-oxygen to sustain life for 186 minutes. He wins the world's longest breath-holding contest hands down. 

There are so many details that I could document about those three hours and maybe I will in the days to come. All I want to do in this post is talk about how much love we and our boys, especially Joshua, received on Thursday and the days that followed. 

Let's start at the top. Katy's OB, Dr. Yin, came in to the OR and could have let the nurses be with her through her spinal, but instead hugged and consoled her through each stick, all the while assuring her of the process along the way. The tears she shed as she checked on Katy in the recovery room, even when she knew for the past 19 weeks the probable outcome. Her hugs and constant condolences in the hours and days that followed were not ones we expected from a doctor, but a friend and concerned advisor. 

Our perinatologist, Dr. Shields, normally doesn't attend the Caesarian and yet at our request, gladly was Dr. Yin's assistant, not hesitating when we asked if he could be there that morning. Our OB with Nick only checked on Katy once after he was born and yet we saw Dr. Shields everyday while in the hospital as he made a point to check on our well being even though his job was done. 

Marilyn, Dr. Shields' lead nurse, who had helped us through each weekly appointment and our endless questions, volunteered to don scrubs in a department she used to run, not to do her old job, but merely to support us by using our SLR camera to take pictures in the operating room. She answered our questions while the procedure was going on and in the NICU after, acted as a relay between our parents, and prayed with and for us and our sons in the turmoil that followed. While Joshua's team pushed oxygen into his lungs, she weeped as she put her arm around my shoulders and cried out to God for His will to be done. She took time before and after work in the days that followed to come over to check on how we and our boys were doing. Always smiling, always comforting. 

Dr. Turbow, the junior neonatologist on the team with 20 plus years experience in neonatology, counseled us around week 24 about what to expect right after delivery. He gave his most sincere gratitude to us as we explained our desire for Joshua to be a donor if he could, even though he ended up not being able to. His willingness to come in on his day off and electing to take on the greatest burden, the lead doctor on Joshua's resuscitation, knowing full well he would probably not make it. He never grumbled and was nothing but kind, professional, and genuine. He saw us in the hallways during the days after and always stopped to give us updates and if he couldn't would promise to follow-up with us when he saw us in the NICU in a while, and he always did. 

Nurses like Joan, who worked on Joshua and held it together until I put my arm around her to say thanks and her eyes closed as tears fell. Anne and Frank, who were instrumental in Samuel's survival. Mary, helping David's intubation to go smoothly and allow him to breathe. The floor director Ria, who left the NICU during the procedures because she could no longer hold it together while her staff labored so intensely to provide for our triplets. Labor and delivery nursing staff like Lindsey, Charley, and Mary who were so positive with us even if their experience told them the probable outcome.  Katy's nurses in post-partem, Lauren, Helen, and Chelsea, always firm but kind, smiling, and with Katy's best intentions at heart. All of the respiratory therapists, Katy's anesthesiologist, ultrasound techs and doctors, and x-ray techs. So many people, so many names that we could hardly begin to remember them all.  

Amazingly enough, one stood out above all others: Tara King, Katy's labor and delivery nurse for most of our stay. Aside from being assigned to help Katy everyday she was confined here before giving birth except for one, she went above and beyond in her effort to get to know her. She always spent extra time outside of her normal parameters to care for and just be a friend to Katy. We came to find out she knew our friend Rebecca and had her teeth cleaned by our friend Caitrin, further solidifying the connection between her and Katy. As the days went on, she made it clear that while she was not supposed to be in the operating room as she served no real purpose there, she was determined to get inside, not to help the other doctors or nurses, but to support Katy. And she succeeded. Two days before the surgery was scheduled, as she was getting ready to go home, she came in beaming from ear-to-ear, hardly containing herself as she informed us she would be there in the OR. She came in the morning of, got Katy all prepped, helped her do her hair, calmed her nerves with her ever-present smile, and was there for her every step of the way, never leaving her side the minute she entered the OR. The consummate professional, she didn't get in anyone's way, but made sure to help Katy out by keeping her calm and in the loop every step of the way. As we came to the conclusion that Joshua would not make it, tears fell down her cheeks. The hours we got with him she was minimally in the room, allowing us to have our time with him and our family. When Joshua passed away into Christ's arms, she assured us we could have as much time as possible with him and when we said we were ready she double-checked to make sure we actually were. When we decided to move Katy into her recovery room so Joshua's first and final bath could be done in the labor and delivery room, she got noticeably quiet. When asked why, she related how by moving Katy over to recovery, she wouldn't be her patient anymore and she wasn't ready to let her go just yet. I stayed with her as she washed Joshua with the greatest of care, treating him as if he was still alive with her gentleness. She kept me informed every step of the way with what would happen to him next in the death process. She combed his hair, what little he had, shaped it into a faux hawk like mine, allowed me to take what pictures I wanted, and gave me all the time I needed with him. She took her time setting up and creating a memory box for us, getting his hand and foot prints, a lock of his hair, his hospital ID bracelet, and his NICU blanket. Once she was finished getting him ready to take to the morgue, she asked if I wanted to take him into the NICU to get pictures of him with his brothers. I told her we had asked the NICU staff if that could happen and they politely informed us David was not stable enough to do such a thing. Tara was disappointed, but nodded her understanding. I said a final goodbye to Joshua, and Tara told me she would stop by before the end of her shift to see Katy. 

A few hours later, while Katy and I sat quietly in the recovery room, Marilyn walked in. She gave us hugs and asked how we were doing. While catching up on the whirlwind of a day we had had, Tara walked in beaming. She pulled out our camera and explained how I had left it in the NICU when I went to check on the boys after Joshua died. She turned it toward us and showed what she had done. Somehow she had finagled her way into the NICU on her way to the morgue with Joshua and convinced them to put all of our boys together in the same incubator. They moved Samuel's monitors next to David's and placed Joshua in between his brothers. Then Tara took pictures of them together, one final time. There were multiple shots, most of which contrast the red-life-filled skin of David and Samuel with Joshua's once similar and now opposite lifeless one. But in the pictures is a tenderness that while probably fictitious, shows two brothers, saying goodbye to another, turning toward him in a final display of affection, and reaching out to him as if to say, "See you again one day."

Katy and I can't ever repay the staff here at Marian Medical Center for what they did for our family. No words or presents will ever fulfill or display our sense of gratitude we have for the gift they gave us of these three boys. We won't always remember their names or even their faces in the not-too-distant future. From the very depths of our soul, we will forever be grateful for what they've done, are doing, and will do for us. They will always have an oh-so-special place in our hearts. They will never know what they all mean to us and we can never fully express the love we have for them. All we can say, is thank you. 

Thank you. 

Thank you. 

Thank you.

fear - 10/17/13 - 33w0d

     

At 10:30 am PST Katy will be having a c-section. We are just over 8 hours away from delivery. When we were this close with Nick, I was so excited I couldn't sleep. The anticipation of being a father, the excitement of all we'd get to do together, watching the love my bride would have for her son, was something I could hardly wait for. It's a lot different this time around. Our friends the Patterson's are two doors down and just delivered their second child, first boy. I know my buddy Jimmy is having a lot of those same thoughts as he watches his bride and newborn son. It's not that I'm not looking forward to those things. It's just that I want them to happen. I know there are lots of people, like us, who have struggled to have children. I know it may seem selfish of me to think the way I do, but I want those things with ALL of my boys. Not just Nick, David, and Samuel, but Joshua too. It's so much different this time. I have a hard time being excited. 

A few days ago I realized something that may seem pretty obvious. I'm stressed. I don't know why it took me so long to realize what should be so obvious. But I finally got to the root of why I'm stressed; I'm terrified of what the morning brings. It's not even so much the probable outcome that scares me. It's the unknown. Not knowing is the scariest part and I know it's my own desire for control that drives the fear. Sure I'm sad and if he does pass away I'll be a wreck. But deep down, I know the unknown is what is eating me up. 

On a different note, having Katy on bed rest this last month and in the hospital this last week has opened my eyes to a lot. First, I don't know how single parents do it. Working full time and coming home to a second full time job is exhausting! How they have time for anyone other than their kids is beyond me. It also made me appreciate how fortunate we are to be able to have Katy be a stay-at-home mom. The little things she takes care of throughout the days of the week made my life so unknowingly easy. Having to work and then come home during the week and on the weekend just to do those little things has been enough to almost drive me insane. Aside from the obvious reasons my love for my bride has gone up during this pregnancy, realizing all she does for our family without complaint raised the bar even higher. 

When people take care of you, it usually makes you happy. But when people take care of the people you love, it warms your soul. Every time I came in to the hospital to visit Katy and saw a new note or package I was elated. Whenever she told me someone had stopped by to visit or I walked in on a prayer time with friends, I was comforted. There's a sense of guilt you get when your spouse is laid up in a hospital and you aren't with them 24/7. So to know others were caring for her when I wasn't, was awesome. Thank you to everyone who came, sent a card, made a call or text, mailed a care package, or just prayed for us during this time. Your love was overwhelming! And if you want to come visit us while we're here the next few days, please do, just not after 9 as we will be passed out!

Our God is a god of truth. He makes promises and keeps them sustaining the trust in our relationship with Him. When you lose that trust, a relationship is broken. I know there are so many people who don't trust God for any number of reasons, but it seems as if many of them are self-imposed promises thrust on Him that He never made. If we look at the promises of scripture, He hasn't broken one. Sure some haven't been fulfilled yet (Christ coming back) and others took forms that were unexpected but ended up being better (Christ coming to overthrow a spiritual enemy not a political one), but He always keeps His promises. We've known a few friends over the years who have sadly lost children either through miscarriages or complications post-partem. These friends have all said that their babies were in a better place and they knew in their hearts they'd see them again. Some of these friends are Christians, some not. Both are right in where their children are now. The neat thing for us is, that if Joshua dies, we truly know where he will be, that we'll see him again, and he'll immediately be in the presence of Christ. We know this, not because it feels or seems right, but because of our God who cannot lie telling us so in His Holy Word. There's an overwhelming peace that comes with that kind of assurance and guarantee, and it's one that passes all understanding. 

Tonight on the way home from AWANNA, Nick said that Joshua was probably going to die. My mom began explaining to him how that might happen and we would be sad if it did, but we were praying it didn't. He calmly looked at her and said, "Why would we be sad? Joshua will be in heaven with Jesus." Out of the mouths of babes. 

admission - 10/10/13 - 32w0d

Yesterday Katy was admitted into the hospital. We've known it was coming since our appointment on Monday with Dr. Shields. The boys were measured and their weights calculated, which led to the admission. David and Samuel were each over four pounds (4 lbs 2 oz each) while Joshua was just over two and a half (2 lbs 9 oz). The boys are starting to pull away from each other and Joshua is leveling out, hardly growing at all. The thought process was that if he isn't going to be growing much more inside Katy, best to get him out soon. So they admitted her yesterday after her appointment with Dr. Yin for observation and general monitoring of the triplets. If anything goes awry, they'll pull them out within a few hours. The bummer of it all is that Katy feels and looks great and the boys are all moving like crazy. It makes it hard to imagine anything is actually wrong inside such an active and healthy-appearing womb. 

That led to our delivery date being set. The c-section is scheduled for next Thursday morning, October 17th. All of a sudden the day is looming out there. The time is soon coming when decisions, life-changing decisions, will have to be made by us for our triplets. And not just them, but for us too. Even for Nick. We may be setting up some of his earliest memories on the choices we make in these next few days. We've contemplated whether or not he should get to meet Joshua if he were to pass away from this world into the next. Will a five year old remember meeting his brother for less than ten minutes? Will he thank us? Curse us? Be indifferent? Will it make a difference later on down the road in his own walk of faith? All of these questions run through our heads and at least at this point, we've decided we do want him to meet his brother. Why you may ask? The short of it is, because if we had lost a sibling early in our lives, we would want to know that we were given the opportunity to say hello/goodbye to him or her. We feel like Nick should be give that same chance. Who knows? It may end up being the wrong call, but at this point, with everything else going on, this is what feels right for our family in this moment. We'll see whether this one butterfly wing flutter changes our lives further on down the road, for better or worse. Either way our answer will be the same. Blessed be Your name. 

A buddy of mine asked me recently how I was doing. I tried to explain that it felt like. Knowing you were about to have overwhelming happiness while at the same time dealing with the potential for extreme sadness. How do you have joy while experiencing sorrow? I answered with one word. Hope. Not just the hope that Joshua could live, but the hope of a promise for eternal perfection. The knowledge that our Creator ordained our every step and knows our every breath. That he works all things for good to those who love him, not in a "health and wealth" kind of way, but in a "looking out for our best interest even if we can't see it in these mortal bodies" kind of way. That he promised to save those who don't have the capacity to understand their sin by bestowing His grace on them when they need it most. I tried to explain all this but it only came out in that one, powerful word. We hope in the knowledge that any strength we have comes from an immortal God who exists, not in our imagination, but in a spiritual realm man only caught a glimpse of two thousand years ago. When a Man who knew no sin took our place on a bed of nails, enduring the eternal wrath we deserved that we might be justified before His throne and bow down one day only to be told, "Rise, my sons and daughters, for my Son has imputed you with His holiness and you stand before Me clean of all your debt and sin. Not because of anything you have done, but because of all Jesus has done for you. Welcome to my kingdom." And on the day we enter into God's presence, if we do lose Joshua in the days or weeks to come, we will see him again. Not as he was here on earth, broken, needy, helpless, lifeless. But in a state of perfection. In a body that will not fail him. Being wrapped up in the arms of our God who promised to never forsake him. Knowing he was always our Lord's son first and finding everlasting joy in the promises He made.

I'll step away from the pulpit though and let you see a few of the Godsends I am blessed to call my family. Our friend Sean Troeger took these pictures when Katy was exactly 27 weeks. He is amazing and we are always pleased with the work he does. Here's a glance into a few of our favorites, but its tough when every shot is a favorite!

Thank you all for your continued prayers and thoughts. While there was and may be again a time when the phrase, "We're thinking/praying for you," just didn't provide the comfort we needed, that time is not now. We can't explain the emotion and comfort it gives us to know so many have been lifting our family and specifically our boys up in prayer and even just thinking about them throughout their days with everything that's going on in their lives. Thank you for setting aside your time for our family, even if it's just to read this silly blog. We can't wait to show you the result of your thoughts and prayers in this next week. I know Katy would love for visitors to come by and just say hi so if you have time and like hanging out with her, feel free! She's got time, trust me. Please continue to life us up as we prepare to meet our next three sons!