Ok. I said I would TRY this. So, Charli Anna’s “Heaven Day” is July 28, 2008. This is just one of the days in 2008 that changed our lives utterly and completely. It seems like every day from Feb. 13 to July 28 was life-altering, desperate, chaotic, beautiful, horrible, special, precious, amazing, I could go on and on. The English language doesn’t contain words adequate enough to describe those days. But THAT day in particular was off the charts. Jason had spent the night sleeping on the floor of Charli Anna’s CICU room. We had been by her side 24/7 for 4 days. Our plan was that I would go back to Aunt Chris’ house to sleep, then we would trade places in the morning. My friend Cheryl was planning to come up and spend the day with me and Charli Anna. We had already been told that she was not going to survive 24 hours, but they had said that four days ago and things were looking better for her. On paper, things were improving. The blood pressure had stabilized, her heart-rate was better, etc . So that’s why we took the shifts. We were trusting that things were going to get better. Still counting on that miracle, you know! But when I came in early that morning, her toes and fingers were purple. She was turning cold. Jason hadn’t gotten much sleep (nearly none) and so I told him to go lay back down in the floor and I’d handle things. I asked to hold Charli Anna and the nurse placed her in my lap. Jason was in the floor behind me. The usual bells and whistles were alarming and such, but I was just spending my time staring at that beautiful little face, trying to memorize every nook and cranny, every wrinkle, every hair, every expression, all the while keeping a close eye on the monitors to make sure her blood pressure and heart-rate were good. We had learned what every sound meant and they were all normal at the time. I held her for I’m guessing an hour and a half when, suddenly, a different alarm rang out. I turned to look at the monitor. I thought “Uh oh! I’ve never heard THAT one!” I saw her heart rate go: 140. . . 110. . . 90. . . 75. . . in a matter of 5 seconds. Jason jumped up, Laura (our nurse) ran in with another nurse, a doctor ran in. Everyone looked at us. Laura said, “It’s time. I’m going to turn off the monitor. Try not to pay attention to it. Just spend this few minutes focusing on HER.” Then she turned and they all left the room quietly. Of course, they were standing just outside the door, peering through the window, watching the nurse’s monitor. I held her VERY close, annoyed by the tubes and wires between us. Jason crumpled to the floor beside us and we just stroked her little face and hands. Occasionally, one of us would tell her we love her. We thanked her for fighting for so long. We talked about Taryn and Lauryn a little bit. We said goodbye for them. It was very important for us that this moment be peaceful and that it be evident to her that she would one day see us again. We didn’t want her to be surrounded by an air of panic. I think we did a good job of that. Faye and Benny walked in. They knelt around us as well and said their goodbyes. About 5 minutes later, my friend Cheryl came in. She was quite shocked at the scene since she was expecting to spend a quiet day with us. I guess it was about 2 minutes after Cheryl came in that I looked at Charli Anna’s face and saw her grimace, hiccup, and I knew that was it. Her chest kept moving because she was on a ventilator, but the doctor walked in and said her heart had stopped. The minute she said that and I was sure Charli Anna was gone, I began shaking. That “no panicking” thing wasn’t necessary anymore. Jason and I, along with the doctor, began ripping wires off of her, desperately shaking. I just kept saying, “Get this off her. Take this out of her. Pull the lines out!” The doctor complied and helped me take it all out very quickly. Then I threw that baby over my shoulder, for the first time holding her precious body with NOTHING between our skin. Everyone took a turn holding her. NO ONE had EVER held that girl without at least one tube or wire in the way and even the doctors and nurses needed to feel her in their arms skin-on-skin. Many of the nurses came in even though it was their day off. They wanted to hold her, too. They loved her. I still feel like we gave her the best gift we could by not allowing any more procedures to be done to her in those last days. I know that decision was controversial at the time and we really tormented ourselves about it, but ultimately I’m glad that her dying moments didn’t include chest compressions, an operating table, a surgical team, chest tube insertions, panic, cutting, or stitching. It was just Charli Anna surrounded by those who love her, handing her off to the One with whom she’ll spend eternity. I told her it was OK to go if she needed to, even though those were the hardest words I’d ever spoken. And she went because she needed to.
Soon enough, Jason and I realized we still had to tell Taryn and Lauryn. We had to admit to our girls that we couldn’t protect their sister. We met them at the doors as Troy and Catherine walked them into the hospital. We took them to the chapel and told them that she died. They both were completely shocked. . . . . still holding out for that miracle, you know. They cried HARD, LOUD cries. Angry cries. All we could do was hold them and cry with them. Taryn saw Charli Anna’s body one time, but she wasn’t comfortable with sitting in the room where her sister just died, so we escorted her to the conference room and sat with her for a while. Lauryn, on the other hand, wanted to be close to the room, so we tried to let her do that as well.
A few hours later, we drove home to Potosi. We walked into our house and for the first time ever, it didn’t feel like home. I kept walking into her little pink nursery and just staring at her things. We didn’t move anything for a long time. We just couldn’t. That night, by the time we got home, it was fairly late. Jason and I were quite exhausted and mentally drained. The girls wanted to sleep with us, so we tried laying all 4 of us in our Queen bed. That wasn’t working very well, so we threw a bunch of blankets in the living room floor and the 4 of us curled up there and slept. We all cried ourselves to sleep. Occasionally one of us would wake up crying out and the other three would console or pat the crying one back to sleep. Then, someone else would wake up and the same thing. We’d just pat or rub the person’s back until they went back to sleep. This went on all night long. Being back home was just a HUGE adjustment for all 4 of us. You have to understand, we had slept where ever we could find a spot for nearly 6 months, most of the time separated from one another. You know that feeling when you wake up in a hotel or at a relative’s house and at first you don’t know where you are? You kind of jolt awake, look around, rack your brain---where am I? Then, you realize where you’re at and you go back to sleep or you get up. Well, we’d been living like that for a LONG time. For months, I’d jolt awake and find myself in the 8th floor parent lounge, in the chair by her bed, in the bed at my aunt and uncle’s house, at Troy and Catherine’s, on a floor somewhere, in a hotel somewhere, etc. On that first night at home, when I jolted awake and found myself at home, my heart broke again. It wasn’t a bad dream. It was real. That feeling continued for months. It took us a long time to feel at home in our home again. It took us a long time to stop feeling guilty for being a family with Charli Anna gone. The whole world changed. Nothing else mattered anymore. All the other problems in the world became small and insignificant. And I still feel that way a lot of the time. I find that I just don’t have the energy to care about things like I used to, but I think that I’ve basically just weeded out the cares and worries that I shouldn’t have emphasized so much to begin with like money, possessions, etc. I miss her. Every single day, I miss her. I carry her with me in the back of my mind (or the front of it) every single second of every single day. I don’t think I’ll ever let her go. With that in mind, I’ll leave you with the lyrics of a song that mimics the things we have felt, especially right after we lost our girl.
Dreaming With A Broken Heart
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with her crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....
Now do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my , roses in my hands?
Would you get them if i did?
No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
P.S. The Charli Anna Foundation is having a Trap & Skeet and BBQ fundraiser on Saturday, July 11, 2009, at Leadbelt Gun Club (Old Bonne Terre Rd North of Desloge, MO) starting at 9AM. $20 per person with youth, men and women divisions. Call 573-747-5657. BBQ is $5 per plate. If you don't want to shoot, stop by and eat!!!
