The Beginning: Surely I'm Dreaming

If you are new to this series, be sure to catch up here. Sorry for the delay in this installment--this one was very tough to relive. I have a crazy way of dealing with traumatic events--I block them out of my mind completely. Only within the last few years the memories have started coming back to me.

I wasn't sure what to expect at our first visit to the Neurosurgeon, but I knew one thing for certain. That word was frightening.

We drove to the city, uncertain of exactly what to expect. They called us back to the exam room and ordered a scan of Nicholas head. I remember going back with him, frightened as I'll get out. My baby boy and a huge machine.

I will never forget the moment the neurosurgeon came into the exam room and gave us the results of Nicholas's scan. These words are very painful for me to write: Blunt Force Trauma to the Head. A force stronger than dropping my baby boy on solid concrete from a standing position.

I sat there absolutely speechless, fighting back a flood of tears. Little did I know, that wasn't the end of the bad news. Someone was responsible, not something.

Over the course of the next few weeks and months, we made numerous trips to the city. Nicholas underwent many, many procedures to stop the bleeding on his brain--none were working. He spent days and nights in the Pediatric ICU, all while I was trying to complete my first semester of college, and hold down a full time job (both back in my hometown an hour away).

It was finally decided that a permanent solution was our only option. Nicholas was to undergo a major surgery where they ran a tube from his brain down to his stomach to drain off the excess fluid and blood, otherwise known as a shunt. It would be there forever, although he wouldn't necessarily need it forever.

During his surgery I was a nervous wreck. If I remember correctly, it took many hours to complete--and I paced the waiting room during most of it. Following the surgery, he was in the hospital for many days to make sure that this solution was going to work and that he healed properly.

I spent as much time at the hospital as I possibly could. Although I was still enrolled in college, I was only attending enough that I could understand the assignments and get things done. One day when I went to Nicholas's hospital room, he wasn't there, and I panicked! I turned around to ask the nurses where he was, and the nurse was right behind me.

It was then I realized everything wasn't going as smoothly as I thought it was. From that day on, I wasn't allowed to be alone in the hospital room with Nicholas. A nurse had to be present at all times. The city police and a social worker from the Division of Family Services came and questioned me and D (my then-boyfriend).

It came time for Nicholas to be discharged, and I thought all of it would be put behind me...until they spoke those words. "We are unable to release Nicholas into your care, do you have someone else in mind? If not we can find someone."

I wanted someone to pinch me so I could wake up from the very nightmare that was haunting me for the last few months. Please tell me this isn't really happening!

My mom stepped in and allowed Nicholas to be released into her care. I was not to be allowed alone for any amount of time with Nicholas until it was proven that I was not responsible for all of this. A few days later my mom set up an appointment for me to get a private polygraph to prove I had nothing to do with Nicholas's injury.

I'm fairly certain that I have never in my life sweated as much as I did the day I sat down to take my test. I knew that I had no reason to be nervous, as I was obviously not guilty--but it was absolutely nerve-wracking!

As soon as we got the results in, I jumped up and down and screamed with delight! Nicholas and I would finally be able to resume our life. Our life was as normal as normal could be.

That I was very thankful for.

The Beginning: More Trials

If you are new to this series, please catch up here.



I was a mom now, but had yet to see my new baby. I had no idea what he looked like. My mom and dad had already seen him, and so did all of my friends. Although it was only through a window, it still stung. It was heartbreaking. The next morning, my nurse finally delivered me a picture of my baby. I held it tightly and looked at it often.

I can't remember exactly when I was able to go see Nicholas--but I was more than ready. I was still pretty sick, and since I hadn't actually been on my feet for any length of time in many, many weeks, I had to be wheeled down to the NICU. My mom wheeled me down the long hallway, and finally I seen the wall full of windows--blinds drawn. We picked up the phone and asked if we were able to come in.

Upon entering the double doors we were instructed to "scrub up" and place on a sterile hair net, boot covers and gowns. It looked like we were preparing for surgery. I was wheeled over to Nicholas and I stood up to admire his beauty. I stroked him lightly, that was all I could do.

This was my baby. He was so very beautiful. It was a miracle he was even alive. There were so many machines hooked to him, so many monitors.

Then I heard it...

Beeping. Scary beeping. And lots of it. The nurses swarmed his bedside. In the middle of all this I became very dizzy. I held on to the side of his "bed" and tried to pretend I was okay, although I was not. I wanted to be there for my baby. I wanted to admire his beauty and for him to know I was there. I was his mom and I loved him.

My ghost white face told my mom and the nurses that I was not okay. They made me sit down and I was told I had to leave. Seeing Nicholas in that state was apparently too much for me, and I had came this close to passing out. My touch, to Nicholas's sensitive body got him excited and he forgot to breathe.

His beeping got me excited and I forgot to breathe.

I remained in the hospital for about 1½ weeks after Nicholas was born. I went to see him everytime they allowed me. Even through all the complications we both had, I was adament on breast feeding him. I pumped in my hospital room, and would take my milk down to the NICU in hope Nicholas would soon be able to enjoy it.

Nicholas was starting to do really well, and I was able to hold him and feed him with a bottle (even though it was my breast milk). I loved our time together.

Then I was discharged. Although I was elated to finally be out of the hospital, my baby was still there. I came home to a fully furnished nursery, with no baby to enjoy it. I caught a ride to the city as much as I could (with C-Sections you are unable to drive for 3 weeks) just so I could spend a few hours with him.

Then the day came that he was finally able to come home with me. He was fully mine!

Nicholas did really well at home. I was producing more than he could eat, and I still had a freezer full of milk from his days in the NICU. He began sleeping through the night pretty early on and was a pretty happy baby.

In late December he became violently ill. Nicholas was unable to keep anything down..at all. No breast milk, or diluted pedialyte. We were at the doctor constantly over about a 2 week period, but they were unable to find out what was wrong. He got to where he was able to keep down very small amounts of healvily diluted pedialyte, so we slowly began to up his feedings and dosage. Nicholas was on his way back to being himself. Or so we thought.

During a routine doctor's visit sometime in January, the doctor noticed something my mom and I had commented on numerous times before. His head was growing at a faster rate than the rest of his body. Everyone had just chocked it up to him being premature, and that the rest of his body would catch up later. After comparing the growth of his head to months past, the doctor ordered an immediate ultrasound on his head to make sure everything was okay.

The results came back, and I was informed that everything was not okay. We were immediately referred to a NeuroSurgeon in the city.

I was 18 and my baby was 4 months.

I was terrified, to say the least.

The Beginning: I'm A Mom

I've finally decided to get it out there. This way others can hear my story and maybe you can better understand me and where I'm coming from. Little did I know it then, but this is where my frugality began. Rather unwillingly. If you are new to this series, catch up here.

I showed up to my doctor appointment having no clue what was in store for me. Everything was going like any other appointment, until he said those words.



"Phoebe, things aren't getting any better. You're gonna have to be admitted to the hospital so that you can be monitered and we can keep an eye on the baby."



I was stunned.



Thankfully my mom was with me, and we went right on over to the hospital and she settled me in. I was hooked up to all sorts of monitors to monitor my heart rate, as well as my baby's. I was continuing to gain weight at an alarming pace, and puffing up more and more. I began to resemble a Puffing Fish. The only time I was allowed to get up out of the hospital bed, was when I needed to use the bathroom. I was able to shower, but only briefly.

The doctor continued to come and check my progress. I was eager for his visit everyday, I couldn't wait for him to say, "It's time to go home. Everything will be okay."

Two weeks came and went. He entered the room and informed me that it was inevitable. I wasn't going to make it full term, and there was no way the local hospital would be able to take care of a preemie. The only solution at this point was for me to travel, by ambulance, an hour away to a bigger hospital.

They rolled in the bed, strapped me on, and off I went on the bumpiest, most terrifying ride of my life. I was wheeled into a room with hundreds of gadgets and machines. I was assigned a new doctor, and she immediately began poking and prodding me. I remember one of the nurses coming at me with about 15 vials. They filled every last one. This was the moment I decided I would never donate blood again. I had scars in the crease of my elbow for months!

I was moved to a new room, one without windows(!), and they continued to run more tests. I was given steroid shots to help develop the baby's lungs, because it was obvious he was coming early.

The doctors continued to monitor me very closely, yet they rarely told me very much. I started seeing a liver specialist, and shortly there after they assigned me a kidney specialist. My blood pressure was still eratic, and my swelling was getting worse. Almost 2 weeks had past and I was just going down hill. I was on magnesium to ward off any seizures and it made me very loopy. I couldn't stand to have the lights on, and I was known to fall asleep in the middle of eating a meal. Fork to my face and all. Because of my high blood pressure, I had horrendous headaches. Everything coupled together was almost too much to bear.

It was around 1:00 in the afternoon and I had just finished eating a lunch of chicken strips and telling my parents goodbye. The kidney specialist entered my room to do their routine check.

I had no clue.

It was time.

My parents, less than an hour earlier, had embarked on their one hour journey home. They turned around and came right back. Their baby was having a baby.

My liver had almost completely failed, and my kidneys were on their way. 18 years old and I was having a baby at 32 weeks gestation. Now.

I had an emergency c-section on September 4th, 2000 at around 4 in the afternoon. Usually you are not allowed to eat prior to going in for a c-section. At the stage I was in, that didn't matter. I became very ill while still on the table and was wishing I had never eaten those chicken strips!

Nicholas Tyler weighed in at 4 pounds 12 oz, 19 inches long.

I couldn't see him. I didn't get to hold him.

He was wisked away. He was gone.

This post is linked to: Your Life, Your Blog

The Beginning: It's All Out

If you are new to this series, please read the first post here.



I've finally decided to get it out there. This way others can hear my story and maybe you can better understand me and where I'm coming from. Little did I know it then, but this is where my frugality began. Rather unwillingly.





I packed it all in A Note.



I thought I was going to be able to flee any form of confrontation, atleast until the morning. My parents would have time to think on it, to sleep on it..and it would all be okay.



After school was out, I went to my boyfriend's apartment to tell him the news was out. They knew. He graduated 2 years before me in 1998 and lived with a friend close to my work place. I would have enough time to fly by and let him know I finally told my parents I was pregnant.



I couldn't stay long, because I had to be at work. I remember being very emotional--so I wanted to get there even earlier than normal to debrief, so to say. To get to my workplace, all I had to do was drive up an alley-like-thing and I was in the parking lot. Easy as pie.



Until I seen my mom's truck.



I rememeber nothing at all from our conversation, other than tears. Lots of them. And disappointment. A few days later my mom told me that if she was me, she would have written a note, too. While it did make me feel a little better about choosing the Note, I still felt like I took the chicken way out.



I graduated a few weeks later, 4 ½ months along, with a College Prepatory Certificate that basically did me no good. As I walked across the stage, my secret was still safe. No one knew.



After graduation, I moved into a house my parents owned directly in front of theirs. I shopped at yard sales* all summer to furnish my new home and to buy things for the coming baby. Since school was now out, I changed my shift to the morning crew (4:30-1) and I became the "biscuit lady". I absolutely loved it, although I still knew that that wasn't what I wanted for the rest of my life. Other than frying french fries and making cheeseburgers, this was the only cooking I had ever done before on a regular basis. Looking back, this was the foundation of my confidence in the kitchen.

After working this shift for a few months, I began to feel very, very tired. By the end of the work day I was so swollen, that my ankles would literally be conformed to the top of my shoes. In the mornings, my face would be so swollen and puffy I could barely recognize myself. It was starting to be very painful for me to stand. I thought it was all because I was young and this was my body's way of handling things.

By this time it was August, I had turned 18 and was almost 7 months along in my pregnancy. I went to a routine doctor's visit and he began to notice my swelling. He thought it wasn't anything that a few days of bed rest couldn't fix. I took the next few days off work, and literally stayed on the couch all day long for 2-3 days straight (I can't remember the exact amount). I went to work the next morning, and had a follow up appointment right after I got off work.

As I was getting ready in my bathroom that morning, I had no idea. While I was in my car, driving to work, I had no idea. As I worked, I was still clueless.

Those moments would be the last time I did those things, until Mid-September.


*Before finding out I was pregnant, I thought I was "too good" for yard sales. As a matter of fact, I had the attitude of "I'm too good for Wal-Mart, or anything that isn't name brand and brand new." Thankfully, I'm far from that mentality now! A great reminder to myself that I will not allow my children to have that same mentality. *

Please bear with me on the next few installments, as those are the most painful.

The Beginning

Much like this post, I've started this post numerous times, only to end up deleting it. After reading this moving post yesterday over at Real Life Blog, I've finally decided to get it out there. This way others can hear my story and maybe you can better understand me and where I'm coming from. Little did I know it then, but this is where my frugality began. Rather unwillingly.

In 2000, I was a senior in high school. I was enrolled in many advanced classes, some earning college credit, and I was excelling academically. After graduation I had every intention of going to a popular University in my state, so that I could further my education and become a pediatrician. I had my future completely planned out. I wasn't going to get married until I was atleast 25 so I could focus on school, and I didn't want children until I was atleast 27.

Then it happened.

My world as I knew it was shaken.

I suspected that I was pregnant, so I went to Wal-Mart and bought a pregnancy test. I promptly went into their bathroom and took the test. It showed those infamous 2 blue lines. Surely it wasn't accurate. I ignored it, and went on with my business. Over the course of 2 months, I took 10 home pregnancy tests. All of which said I was pregnant. I finally decided that they only way I was going to get an accurate result (I was still thinking accurate meant negative) would be to go to the pregnancy support clinic. It, too, was positive. There was no denying it anymore.

My parents hated my then-boyfriend, for various reasons, and they had just recently forbid me to see him. How in the world was I going to tell them my news?! At this point I was about 4 months along. The only people that knew were my boyfriend, and 3-4 of my closest friends. At one point one of my friend's moms called my mom and told her I was pregnant, but my mom didn't believe her. As a matter of fact, when she got off the phone, she was laughing. She seriously thought it was a joke. This came the very night I had finally found the courage to tell them. Once that happened, I chickened out and went back to figuring out my plan.

I could not fathom facing my parents and telling them how big of a failure I was. What would they say?

I did what I thought I had to do.

One evening I finally decided that I would tell my parents in the morning. I had Open Block (no class for the first block of that day), and I had to go to work right after school and close. I worked at a fast food restaurant, and closing meant I ended up being home around midnight--or later, depending on if we hung out after work or not. So I did it.

I wrote a note. Yes, you read that right. A Note. I left it on the table while my mom was running errands and my dad was at work. Since my day was busy, I knew I wouldn't have to face them until the next morning.

But boy was I wrong!

*I'll leave it there for now. There is no way my story could fit into one post, so be sure to check back for future installments.*

Part 2: It's All Out
Part 3 : I'm A Mom
Part 4: More Trials
Part 5: Surely I'm Dreaming