..is another gloomy day around our house. Full of much sadness and anger. Yes, we are still angry and we'll likely be for quite some time to come. As for the sadness, I'm quite certain it will never leave us.
Today marks 11 months since I've last held my baby in my arms. 11 months since I last heard her voice.
11 months ago, Carly first asked for "Paul"after she got out of bed, but he was still sleeping (he'd worked the night shift and was still in bed at 8am) and I told Carly that he would be up later to play with her.
We headed to the rocker/recliner, where Carly climbed up into my lap and fell back to sleep. She slept for 2 whole hours. She slept peacefully. With no signs or indications that trouble was brewing. As I rocked her, I did as I always did, I soaked up the scent of my daughter. And I'm so glad that I did that day too. I never wanted to forget her scent. You may think that's odd, but I did that with her all the time. 11 months ago was no different.
After napping those two hours, while sprawled out on top of me, (I'm short and she was growing-holding her like that was getting more difficult for me and for her, but we managed) Carly woke up. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Although I was a little surprised that she got out of bed at 8 and then went back to sleep till 10, Carly was a non stop kind of kid. She was up early and hit the floor running. Every. Single. Day. In fact, I had a twinge of " beware...sleep. Too much of it may mean cancer looming back" - a sign we had to watch for with that stupid cancer. And yes, I was/am a paranoid mom. But never in a million years did I think she was in cardiac distress.
The very last words that came out of Carly's mouth, were "more pink milk" aka, strawberry yogurt drink. I gave her one and she chugged down. Then asked me for "more" I gave her another one and she chugged that one too. I then headed to the kitchen to get her med's ready. She was on the tail end of a course of antibiotics. As I approached her with her med's she was still rocking in the chair, she sat up on her knees and screeched at me "NOOOOOOOOOO" and pushed me away. The tone of her voice, was one that I had never before heard come out of her mouth. At that point I told her we'd just wait till after her bath.
Leaving her sitting in the recliner, I turned to head to the bathroom, that's when I heard the thump. As I turned around I saw her going from sitting up on the floor, (remember, when I walked away from her, she was sitting IN the recliner) facing the recliner, but slumped in front of it, to falling over on the floor in a fetal position. I wasn't more than 10ft from her. As I ran over to her, I could see her lips were blue and her color was very gray. I started screaming for Paul. He and Brad both came running. I guess my tone scared the shit out of both of them. Paul started CPR and I was on the phone with 911. Brad was pacing the floor, completely freaked out.
Paul had revived Carly. Which we have recently learned, was an all out miracle in itself. Did you know that only 4% of people in a health crisis/emergency, who need medical intervention, actually survive with only having CPR being preformed? We did lose her on our living room floor, that's per her cardiologist..but her "Paul" brought her back. Sadly, we all know that in the end, she needed much more medical intervention than could be provided for her on that day. Which pretty much sucks because she didn't have what she needed in her time of crisis.
The following pictures were taken last March. She came home from school and ran straight to her swing set. I remember this day so well. Carly insisted on sitting in this particular swing, even tho she could swing in a "big girl" swing...for some reason she wanted to swing on this one.
As you can probably tell, due to the very poor quality, these pic's were taken with my cell phone. I wish I would have had my camera out that day, but didn't really expect to be playing outside in mid March!
As we mark off yet another month without our sweet little girl, we head straight, smack dab into our 12th month. April. One year. Unbelievable. We fear the month of April. We fear the 23rd of April. And we fear that we will soon be starting our 2nd year without our sweet, sweet little girl. How can time pass so fast? I want it to slow down. I don't want to be facing a second year. I don't want to face another year without my baby girl. I'm still having a hard time trying to navigate through my days without her now. How will I ever get through each passing year? I don't want to be doing this anymore.
Okay, I'm done with this post. I can't even see the screen through my tears.
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