A personal Journey

A year ago, my daughter (out of character) would crawl into my bed and hold me tight every night for a week. The morning of surgery I quickly put purple fleece pants under her pretty pink princess night gown, slipped on comfy Oregon Duck slippers. Then we were ready to make our way to the hospital. To hand our baby to strangers, praying they could fix her little body so that it would be strong and match her spirit. In the tiny waiting room Libby clung to me, her head nestled tight against my chest. I kissed her goodbye praying that I would see her again. I barely made it to the waiting room before I fell into a heap throwing up. Sicker than I have ever been. Those were the last minutes I had with my true Libs. The funny, loving, courageous girl who made everyday the best of my life.

I held true to my promise to her, to do everything in my power to make her happy and make every minute with her count. To take care of her every single need. To never lose my hope and faith. To live every minute with optimism. Never treating her different for her disabilities. Camping in a tent, 20 oxygen tanks and all, Traveling, Disneyland, Ferris wheels, Hikes, Movie theaters,  the many adventures to go find her new blankias, her piling them 10 high on her bed at night each having their own place, then getting out of the pile to come tug on my blanket and ask to have mine for the night too. LOL. Pumpkin patch trips, Meeting Cinderella, Belle & Pluto. Slides galore, pushing her for hours in a swing because she liked the breeze on her face. Staying up for 3 days straight with her because she couldn't sleep. Buying hundreds of different foods to see if she could eat by mouth, riding a tricycle, blaring the ting tings, Disney on Ice several times, going to pre-school, beating the Dora game on her Nintendo DS lite, going to farms, where she would talk to the chickens like friends, I could go on for hours about the things we did together and I loved it all. I miss it all. Thanks for the Adventure Libs.

Her everyday happiness was infectious. She opened my eyes to the strongest love possible. Being her mommy was the best part of me.

I remember when she was 9 months old, she got out of the cath lab, and the dr's told me she probably didn't have long to live, maybe a year, and that a full life for children with her combo of defects was 5 to 11 years. I had to leave her side to be alone. I completely fell apart, I cried harder than I've ever cried before. I felt pure anger at the Doctors for no reason, I was a ball of several different emotions. A young volunteer saw me, he came in and he held me, yes a stranger with a look in his eyes that he knew exactly what I was going through. I cried for a couple of hours. I could see on her face Libby felt my sadness so that very minute I wiped away my tears and vowed that I would not waste the time we had together being sad and angry. I never felt that way again.

Our motto was QUALITY of life before quantity. We would never make her suffer. One night in the hospital room, she lay breathing heavy, gurgling, black skin, saturation 50's, she got in my arms smiling but I knew she couldn't catch her breath no matter how hard she tried and she was suffering. I prayed to God to please take her and end the suffering or give her back to me. That morning with no medical explanation she did a complete turn around and came back to herself. I will always thank God for that answered prayer. I got 6 more months with her. Some people said I was giving up, but I see it as loving enough to let her be in peace. A month before she went to Heaven, she started going downhill. Couldn't eat, laid on the floor crying in pain. I held her for hours, curled up in a ball in my lap, rocking her gently, making up lyrics to sing to God about taking her pain away. In fact that last surgery, I knew how bad it was getting before hand so I decided I would not ask her to fight just for me, to do what was right for her. I told her I wanted her with me more than anything but that if God wanted her to please go with him and to not worry about me, that I would be okay and her comfort and peace were first priority. Even though it was an accident that caused her passing, I believe it was time for Libby to go to Heaven and feel whole again. I believe every Doctor and Nurse have good intentions and I would never blame anyone. Do I hurt? Yes but I am sad because I miss her, not because of where she is.

I stayed with her the night before she passed, until 3am, I stood at her bedside, rubbing her forehead (the thing she loved the most). I went home to sleep then the next morning I got a call from Mike that they just started CPR and they would do it for 5 minutes and I needed to get there. I felt so numb inside, I ran in there, so many people in scrubs, so many on top of my daughter, pushing her little chest, trying to bring her back. I felt so sick to my stomach, I wanted to scream and push them all away. I told them to please just stop and let her go. Sometimes I wish they hadn't done CPR. The image I live with is horrifying and unreal. They stopped and handed her to me. I held her little body for so long but it seemed like no time at all. I didn't want to leave her even though I knew she was not there.

I am a different person now. I have a Libby sized hole in my heart. I believe it makes me a stronger person. I love and feel emotions deeper. I live a life of gratitude. My Faith is stronger. Hope is never lost. Every worry and stress are so small now. I even treasure the fact that I can breathe without struggle.

It's nearing a year without my daughter. I want to tell God thank you for blessing me with Libs. I want to tell Liberty Thank you!! Thank you for saving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for you. ILY.