Tonya & Co.

  In the early morning of the day my Mia was born, I was transferred to my room on the Mother baby unit of the hospital where I delivered her.  Every mother that passed through the hall holding her new baby in arms would reach up and push a button on the wall…a lullaby would chime and sing its tune softly through every hall of the hospital.  I loved it.  It was deeply enchanting to me and tears immediately came to my eyes every time I heard it while I stayed in the hospital with her after her birth.  The words changed for me as I created my own rendition that would be sung to her since her birth…

(inserting in place of “go to sleep”)

“Mia grace,

Mia grace,

Oh, I love my sweet mia,

Love my mia

Love my mia

Oh, I love my Mia girl”

I would sing this to her in the car when she cried in her car set, to her when she would be drifting to sleep in my arms, and with the accompaniment of Ella and Ava sometimes.  It always seemed to calm her…it is her song.

*Flash 18 months*

I am on my knees on the carpet of our living room.  My eyes are blurred with tears that warmly race down my face…my body trembling and I am competing to stay calm as horror has stolen the day.  My arms holding Mia to the ground on her side as she is facing the first horrific trial of her little life…

“Jason…call 911!  Get my grandparents over here! Please get Jen (my nurse neighbor) right now)!”

My brain is dusting off the rusty nursing knowledge from 5 years ago trying to make sense of what I am seeing.  I immediately know to turn my baby to her side, to protect her airway, and hold her against her will to pull the object that has impaled her little mouth and jaw…

“TO HOLD HER AGAINST HER WILL TO PULL THE OBJECT THAT HAS IMPALED HER LITTLE MOUTH AND JAW”

My back was to her, I heard a cry and when I turned around it looked like she and Ella were fighting over the white lacy umbrella that turned Ella into Mary Poppins…but when I got closer…I knew everything was wrong.  The white plastic handle was stuck in her mouth only the horror of it was created when I saw a large protrusion forcing her skin under her jaw to bring her skin out a few inches down past her jmouth.  I knew it was an accident, but still nothing could comfort me against knowing that the situation was out of my control.  I have never felt so weak.  I have never felt so helpless.  I have never felt so scared.  I was horrified.

It seemed like an eternity for the ambulance to arrive.  The only reprieve from my panic were the prayers I said and seeing my husband lay his hands on her little head, interlocking his fingers with her persperation wetted hair to give her a blessing.  The peace from this was the only thing that could keep me calm while I felt my baby fight against the pain and terror of the object imbedded in her beautiful little face.

It seemed like eternity for the paramedics to cut the handle from the umbrella so we could take her to the hospital.  They considered removing the handle from her mouth, but I immediately protested for fear of the bleeding that might ensue…this much I remembered from my days in the ER as a nurse myself.  The ambulance ride was long…taking her to a child trauma hospital.  I could not begin to forget about the pain she was enduring.  I hope to never forget the humility that I felt driving in the passenger seat of the ambulance that day. 

The world seemed to slip away.  Everything around me in slow motion.  The perspective was crisp.  “This is what matters most, Tonya.  Your children.  Your family.”  The quarrels of the early part of the day with Jason over the design of the wainscoting or the resistance of Ella and Ava to help me tidy up their mountains of toys deeply laid guilt into my heart. 

This is what matters. 

The world just slipped away.

The ER was waiting…4 or 5 nurses and doctors waiting to assess the situation.  An x-ray gleaned the handle was “hooked” under her tongue in to the soft tissue ending at her little jaw.  Surgery was imminent.  I held her close to my face as an IV was started.  She cried and fought.  I sang her song again…”mia grace…mia grace”… apologizing to the staff for the sound of it with my horrible voice, but it calmed her some.   I told the staff they were lucky it wasn’t my Ava in her place or we would really be up for a fight.  I was sort of relieved humor had slipped into my affect and I felt like Mia would soon be over this horrific experience.  Versed was administered and she began to calm.  I looked at her little face.  Her eyes swollen with tears and the exhaustion from the ordeal beginning to take its toll.  She was relaxing. 

And then it happened. 

It came free. 

The half inch thick white plastic handle just sorta slipped out of her mouth as her body began to relax around it.  There was no bleeding.  The reaction was almost comical.  Mia looked up to me and smiled.  I learned down into her and she wrapped her little arm up and around my neck.  Her little hospital bracelet tangled in my hair as she pulled into my neck.  I felt the 1000 pound ton lifting from my shoulders and the room lightened as everyone was aware now that she was ok. 

We stayed for several hours after that for sutures and antibiotics.  I held her against me as her leads, and IV tubing, and pulse ox cables tangled around us.  She was ok.  When the time came to release us, I felt so thankful that it had all gone as well as it could.

My parents were on their way to see her at my home and we were greeted by Ella and Ava and great-grandma and grandpa on the steps of the home.  Everyone at home and scattered family members all had been thinking and praying for her.  Her face was very swollen by now.  I joked that she had gained 20 pounds in there.  She smiled through it and by the end of the night her resilience was pushing her little body to dance on the carpet with her sisters for us.  She was bouncing back already.  She was safe. She was so resilient. I am so thankful.

I am sure I will be in deep cleaning mode over the next few days.  Inspecting the home for any potential danger.  It was a freak accident only witnessed by Ella.  She said Mia had the umbrella in her hands and dropped it.  It lay on the ground with the hook shaped handle facing the ceiling.  When Mia went to pick it up, she bent down and tripped on a toy on the floor.  This thrusted her forward onto the umbrella.  Somehow it was forced so hard into her mouth it broke through and hooked into her tissue.  I still cringe at the thought of it.  I pain at the agony it must have been to have that happen to her.

It is 4 am right now.  Sleep has been robbed by my worry over her as I have assigned myself to the night watch.  I hear her snoring in the room next to me now.  She seems to be sleeping comfortable…only waking a few times with a whimper…I am unsure if it is caused by pain or the memory of the ordeal.  But my family is safe at home.  My mia is safe.  I am glad to know that when I felt helpless and afraid I could turn to my family and the Lord for comfort.  For now I am grateful.  I will crawl back into bed and return to her side.  As I have laid next to her, she  has been reaching for me and holding my arms all night.  I will hold her close.  I just wanted to share her story tonight.  I am sure the memory will be engraved forever, but I hoped it might inspire a little more patience, gratitude, and love for the people that we are blessed to have in our lives…

The horror was won over by resilience and the lessons I am taught by the strength of my little ones and my Heavenly Father never cease to amaze me.

I love you Mia…more than I can ever put into words…

Sleep tight light angel…

Xoxo

Mommy