My eyes well up with tears, my heart starts beating faster just thinking about what was in store for us that day... If I only knew. I feel like I belong to a club, a special society of those who have had something happen to their sweet baby. This is mainly for my own memory, a journal entry, if I kept a journal this would be it.
Carter was five days old, Tom and I were just starting to get our bearings, I was able to walk standing up for the first time since the c-section. We decided that morning that this was going to be Carter's first day out, when Mason was 7 days old we took him to Starbucks (okay so there is not a lot to do in this town) but we had a blast, we talked, we laughed, we showed off our baby to the passersby. It was a beautiful, warm summer day and by noon I was exhausted. As I slept, Tom rocked Carter and around 12:30 Carter started to "act funny" according to Tom, he threw up and then moments later his eyes rolled up and he appeared to be having a seizure. Tom calmly woke me up and said that I need to take a look at Carter that he was acting funny. Over the next few minutes, which felt like forever, Carter had a few more of these seizures and Tom and I put him in the car and rushed him to our emergency room.
I'm surprised I even remember the next few hours, I wish I didn't... As a mom or a woman they talk about our gut instinct, but I had no clue, I couldn't even imagine this. This wasn't even on my radar for what day 5 was going to be like for my beautiful baby boy.
After many tests in Merced, our pediatrician joined us in the ER, she left her busy practice that day because she heard that Tom Bosma's new baby was in the ER. She thought that under the circumstances that Carter needed a brain CT scan and that she would personally carry him to the CT room. Tom and I went with her, somehow, we walked. And although the image I saw at that moment on the computer screen will never leave me, I will also never be able to forget the picture I saw of my husband falling to his knees. That meant that "it" was true. The CT scan showed that Carter had a intraventricular brain bleed, or a stroke. I saw blood in my baby's brain where it shouldn't have been. Gut wrenching. I just stood there, no tears, just total disbelief, I guess, I was numb. Over the course of the next hour we got our orders, to go by helicopter to Stanford Children's hospital by 5 o'clock that evening. It felt like a dream. Someone told me I should call family. I knew what that meant, nothing good. But somehow I called my mom. A call I never imagined making. She sounded so calm on the phone, "okay we'll be there". And off Carter and I went, his first flight, my little angel.
This was the first time this heli-crew was able to take a parent with the child in flight, I felt so lucky. But I didn't want to leave Tom behind, we always do everything together, he was my support, my rock. Tom told me later that he kissed Carter good-bye he worried that it was going to be for the last time. He told me, "do not hold surgery or any other medical treatment for Carter, do what you need to do" and off we went. Tom drove, which I can only imagine was the longest drive of his life. Fortunately, I didn't have to make any decisions on my own. I was just there holding my newborn baby's hand as we got settled in the NICU.
I've included the email update I sent after being there for twenty-four hours.
From: "Cecily Bosma"
Sent: Friday, September 2, 2011 12:10:33 AM
Subject: Carter Ellis Bosma
Dear Friends,
We welcomed our son Carter Ellis Bosma on Friday August 26th. He was our little breech baby so he was delivered by c-section, not my first choice but what can you do? He was a healthy 8lbs and 20 inches and beautiful! I thought by now I'd be sending you lots of pictures and updates from home but on Wednesday (gosh that was just yesterday) August 31st, Carter suffered a seizure. Thank god Tom and I were both home. We immediately went to Merced ER where he continued to have more of these episodes. After some tests and a head CT scan we discovered that our little boy has a intraventricular hemorrhage, or in layman's terms, bleeding in the brain's ventricular system where the cerebral spinal fluid is produced. I'm not going to go into much more detail than that, everyone has google, but the condition is very rare. Within an hour we were medivacked to the NICU here. Although this is not the email I wanted to be sending, I wanted to be sure to let all of you know what was going on and thank you for all of your love and support. My guess is this is going to be a long road and we are going to need all of the prayer, good thoughts that we can muster up.
My parents and Tom's dad have been here since last night giving us much support. Tom's mom is in Merced taking great care of Mason and spoiling him I'm sure. Both Tom and I are so lucky to have such amazing parents.
It still feels a little bit like a dream but I feel the fog is lifting. The good news is that Carter is doing amazing (better than his parents). He is strong and resilient and I know he will pull through this.
I will send another update as we find out more in the next few days but at this time we remain cautiously optimistic.
Much love,
Cecily (Tom, Mason & Carter too)
I know we are one of the lucky few that can sit here and type this while their 4 month old sleeps in the other room. But I still can't seem to forget, the terror, the fear, the sadness but most of all the hope that we had for Carter. As Tom and I talked over the next two weeks that followed at the NICU, we learned a lot about each other. How strong we each are and how much we balance each other. When I was freaking out, he stood there by my side, solid, comforting and in turn I did the same for him. We learned that no matter Carter's outcome (because we knew he was going to make it) that we could handle it. But we knew we had to move closer to our family. There were so many questions over the first few days of what our future would look like. I feel silly even writing them down because of how perfect he is now but at the time they were real, would be able to walk, talk, see, move his arms, legs, have learning disabilities? This was the spectrum that we had to face. But Carter was/is a fighter, at every turn he had the best outcome. We could not have wished for a better recovery for our baby. Although we are still taking each day at a time, every day is a miracle. At our last follow-up the Neurologist said "that there is no reason why Carter wont make a perfect recovery." Their little bodies are amazing. He's a healer, a fighter and our little angel.
I know that 08.31.11 has changed me forever. I know that every day is a blessing and that every baby is a miracle. I got to experience that first hand and I am thankful for that. I will continue to count my blessings, Mason, Tom, my family, friends and most of all Carter.
Just a side note. Bonnie would bring this little guy, the blond one, on the weekends and light up our life. He would say that "mommy and daddy have to go to work to make Carter better". It was true, he understood. He would get us outside, make us run around, make us laugh. Mason managed to hang tough through this whole time. He gave US energy. He is our sweetheart.
