Routine has arrived again and with it a bittersweet return to normalcy. The fall reminds us of the coming winter and reminds us of this past tempestuous season. We've been reflecting recently on the year and pregnancy with a bit more clarity now that we hope the worst is over.
While we would have never wished for this trial, one of the positive outcomes is connecting with new people and old friends. There are countless acts of service, gifts and kindness for which we are thankful. On our end of things, we can see people visiting our site from a few continents. We have friends in Peru, the Dominican Republic, Bangladesh, Bolivia and Guatemala that have made visits to our blog. At the peak time right around Ephraim's birth we were getting unique visitors of about 1,000/day. Now, I'm not sure I know that many people and in fact many of the cards, notes and gifts have been from people we've not met or talked to in a very long time.
So, to those of you out there who have been supporting us in many ways, thank you. Thank you for the cards during the pregnancy, some of which were sent regularly. Thank you for the notes of encouragement, the gifts made in remembrance of our son which serve to validate his life. Thank you for cleaning our house, buying us food, preparing a meal for us, hosting us at your house, watching our boys and being gracious with us as we weathered this storm. Thank you for the financial gifts, the establishment of a website for us and our cause unbeknownst to us. Thank you for the prayers, concerned looks and hugs (yes, even I can appreciate hugs!). Thank you for attending the funeral and suffering with us through the saddest week of our lives. Thank you for the remembrances of Ephraim, the necklaces, blankets and trinkets. Thank you for helping our boys understand this experience. There are so many people to thank, we won't be able to thank you all personally like you deserve but I hope you know we appreciate the ways you've served us and it hasn't gone unnoticed.
We will try to avoid slipping into the abyss for another four years but I'm hoping we won't have anything exciting to blog about while we catch our breath. We would love to stay connected to you and let you know of our whereabouts so we will leave this website going and may post intermittently (how's that for non-commitment?). We always appreciate hearing from you.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Hurricane Ephraim
Thank you to those who were able to make the funeral. There were many who made relatively long trips to Wabash to visit us. Under any other circumstances it would have been a great party. Friends we've not seen in years and people we've not talked to in quite some time. It meant much to us that you showed up.
I've spent most of my adult life avoiding funerals. I don't know whether it is the finality of death, the general unease of everyone present or the lack of words needing to be spoken at a funeral. I'm pretty good at sticking my foot in my mouth. Really. I can manage to say the wrong thing most of the time and I just don't like to take my chances when it comes to death. In our situation there wasn't really much anyone could say. We don't expect anyone to say much but just show support that you care and that doesn't even need to involve words.
As the dust settles and we have some time to review the situation, people are asking us how we're doing. I'm a quantitative guy so I'm inherently lost in emotional situations. Dealing with feelings, grief, loss and all the mushy stuff the counselors like is like being asked to vomit so people can watch. Suffice to say it is not my cup of tea.
But when I'm asked how I'm doing, I'd love to have a chart that would rate us. Maybe a 1-100 score where a score below 50 is an automatic prescription for antidepressants. I'm sure someone out there has some tool that would turn this qualitative situation into a quantitative score for me.
I would describe how we're doing with the following metaphor.
At the 18 week ultrasound with Megan's OB, we noticed a strong rotation over some warmer waters deep in the Atlantic Ocean that would most likely lead to a situation where we could feel some remnants of a storm. The following week in Cincinnati the tropical depression that had been detected was confirmed that it would hit us and it was looking like it would be a strong hurricane force storm. Through the weeks and months of appointments in both Indianapolis and Cincinnati the storm grew stronger and confirmation was given that we were in the direct path of the storm. We bought lumber and sealed our windows telling our family and friends it didn't look good and that it was a poor prognosis. As Megan grew and the baby reached record size, the waters had warmed and the storm grew to a category five aimed directly for us.
There was no way out. We called for help. People sent us provisions and helped us through a painstaking pregnancy where my wife endured three months of full-term size. The interstates were jammed with everyone else trying to leave with their possessions. It wouldn't have mattered if we could make it on the road because the hotels were full anyway. This storm was so fierce that no matter where we went we could not hide. Extra provisions were purchased and we stayed in a safe house with friends. They were comforting and they had plenty of food but we were in the eye.
Finally the storm hit on August 18th. While many prayed and watched the news (this blog) no one could save us from the lashing that hit us. Little Ephraim was born without the ability to breathe. That day was the saddest of my life and the direct hit was difficult to manage. Despite the support from others and secure bunker we had, the storm had hit us squarely.
In the following week after his death, we assessed the damage. There was physical and emotional damage. Fortunately the physical damage was not permanent but the emotional toll was catastrophic. This is a storm that will live in infamy. The very name of it (him) will be remembered like Sandy or Katrina. As we regroup as a family and rebuild our lives, we know we are not the same. Ephraim has changed us.
What has changed yet we don't know. We recently received back power and have started to resume our lives as normal. I'm able to return to work but progress is slow and there are delays bringing speeds up to normal. People around us understand that this is an extraordinary event and exceptions have been made. Progress is slower and there is post traumatic stress on all involved, not only those directly in the eye but also those just outside of it. We all are recovering from this life changing event.
But in the end, I think we can all say we have survived Hurricane Ephraim.
I've spent most of my adult life avoiding funerals. I don't know whether it is the finality of death, the general unease of everyone present or the lack of words needing to be spoken at a funeral. I'm pretty good at sticking my foot in my mouth. Really. I can manage to say the wrong thing most of the time and I just don't like to take my chances when it comes to death. In our situation there wasn't really much anyone could say. We don't expect anyone to say much but just show support that you care and that doesn't even need to involve words.
As the dust settles and we have some time to review the situation, people are asking us how we're doing. I'm a quantitative guy so I'm inherently lost in emotional situations. Dealing with feelings, grief, loss and all the mushy stuff the counselors like is like being asked to vomit so people can watch. Suffice to say it is not my cup of tea.
But when I'm asked how I'm doing, I'd love to have a chart that would rate us. Maybe a 1-100 score where a score below 50 is an automatic prescription for antidepressants. I'm sure someone out there has some tool that would turn this qualitative situation into a quantitative score for me.
I would describe how we're doing with the following metaphor.
At the 18 week ultrasound with Megan's OB, we noticed a strong rotation over some warmer waters deep in the Atlantic Ocean that would most likely lead to a situation where we could feel some remnants of a storm. The following week in Cincinnati the tropical depression that had been detected was confirmed that it would hit us and it was looking like it would be a strong hurricane force storm. Through the weeks and months of appointments in both Indianapolis and Cincinnati the storm grew stronger and confirmation was given that we were in the direct path of the storm. We bought lumber and sealed our windows telling our family and friends it didn't look good and that it was a poor prognosis. As Megan grew and the baby reached record size, the waters had warmed and the storm grew to a category five aimed directly for us.
There was no way out. We called for help. People sent us provisions and helped us through a painstaking pregnancy where my wife endured three months of full-term size. The interstates were jammed with everyone else trying to leave with their possessions. It wouldn't have mattered if we could make it on the road because the hotels were full anyway. This storm was so fierce that no matter where we went we could not hide. Extra provisions were purchased and we stayed in a safe house with friends. They were comforting and they had plenty of food but we were in the eye.
Finally the storm hit on August 18th. While many prayed and watched the news (this blog) no one could save us from the lashing that hit us. Little Ephraim was born without the ability to breathe. That day was the saddest of my life and the direct hit was difficult to manage. Despite the support from others and secure bunker we had, the storm had hit us squarely.
In the following week after his death, we assessed the damage. There was physical and emotional damage. Fortunately the physical damage was not permanent but the emotional toll was catastrophic. This is a storm that will live in infamy. The very name of it (him) will be remembered like Sandy or Katrina. As we regroup as a family and rebuild our lives, we know we are not the same. Ephraim has changed us.
What has changed yet we don't know. We recently received back power and have started to resume our lives as normal. I'm able to return to work but progress is slow and there are delays bringing speeds up to normal. People around us understand that this is an extraordinary event and exceptions have been made. Progress is slower and there is post traumatic stress on all involved, not only those directly in the eye but also those just outside of it. We all are recovering from this life changing event.
But in the end, I think we can all say we have survived Hurricane Ephraim.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Big Brothers
While Monday was an excruciating day in most respects, our two other sons were there to brighten the mood. Cael and Liam (6 and 4) have been eagerly awaiting the birth of their brother for months. Since we named him a few months ago, Ephraim, "Little E", has been a daily part of our family. They have prayed for him and nightly thanked God for his life. Ephraim was a very active child in the womb and they would feel him kick and hiccup.
A few weeks ago we were playing around with his name and found it fit very well into the song "Freeze-Frame" by The J. Geils Band. Our family has been substituting "Ephraim" into the song and singing and playing the song. (You can thank me now that the song will be in your head!)
During the pregnancy and when we would go for the frequent doctors visits we would remind the boys that we weren't sure what was going to happen with his life. Cael would say every couple weeks, "I hope Ephraim makes it," to which we said, "We do too," so this is not a total surprise.
When we received word from the NICU doctor that he would be on comfort care, we invited the boys in to meet their brother. Now, the medical staff had told us that the siblings of a child with birth defects will not recognize the brother as having anything wrong but simply as their brother. It was fascinating to watch the boys examine their brother and not realize the gravity of the situation even though there was a nurse helping him breathe for his entire life. Nevertheless, the boys took their time to do a full examination checking and counting the fingers and toes, looking for a cleft chin and removing the diaper to make sure he was a boy. Then Cael stuck Ephraim's toe up his nose just for fun saying, "Ephraim's picking my nose!"
After he passed we let the boys know who began to process it in their own way. We told them he went to heaven to be with Jesus and God had given him a free pass to heaven. Cael said, "When I get to heaven, I'm going to be his older brother." Upon hearing this, Liam's eyes lit up and he said, "And I'm going to be his older brother in heaven too!" excited that however short Little E's life was, Liam is now an older sibling. Then Cael added, "When I get to heaven, I'm going to stick Ephaim's head in the toilet and flush it!" Ahhh, brothers!
A few weeks ago we were playing around with his name and found it fit very well into the song "Freeze-Frame" by The J. Geils Band. Our family has been substituting "Ephraim" into the song and singing and playing the song. (You can thank me now that the song will be in your head!)
During the pregnancy and when we would go for the frequent doctors visits we would remind the boys that we weren't sure what was going to happen with his life. Cael would say every couple weeks, "I hope Ephraim makes it," to which we said, "We do too," so this is not a total surprise.
When we received word from the NICU doctor that he would be on comfort care, we invited the boys in to meet their brother. Now, the medical staff had told us that the siblings of a child with birth defects will not recognize the brother as having anything wrong but simply as their brother. It was fascinating to watch the boys examine their brother and not realize the gravity of the situation even though there was a nurse helping him breathe for his entire life. Nevertheless, the boys took their time to do a full examination checking and counting the fingers and toes, looking for a cleft chin and removing the diaper to make sure he was a boy. Then Cael stuck Ephraim's toe up his nose just for fun saying, "Ephraim's picking my nose!"
After he passed we let the boys know who began to process it in their own way. We told them he went to heaven to be with Jesus and God had given him a free pass to heaven. Cael said, "When I get to heaven, I'm going to be his older brother." Upon hearing this, Liam's eyes lit up and he said, "And I'm going to be his older brother in heaven too!" excited that however short Little E's life was, Liam is now an older sibling. Then Cael added, "When I get to heaven, I'm going to stick Ephaim's head in the toilet and flush it!" Ahhh, brothers!
Funeral Service
We are preparing for Ephraim's service in Wabash. A service will be at 2 pm this Sunday, August 24th at Grandstaff-Hentgen Funeral Service. Burial following the service will be at Falls Cemetery.
Manchester Avenue Chapel
1241 Manchester Avenue
Wabash, Indiana 46992
(260) 563-8879
Memorial gifts may be given to:
Friends Church
3563 South State Road 13
Wabash, IN 46992
(260) 563-8452
Manchester Avenue Chapel
1241 Manchester Avenue
Wabash, Indiana 46992
(260) 563-8879
Memorial gifts may be given to:
Friends Church
3563 South State Road 13
Wabash, IN 46992
(260) 563-8452
Monday, August 18, 2014
Ephraim Makes His Arrival
After making it to the hospital last night we had to run through a
seemingly endless loop of doctors clarifying the plan for delivery. To
complicate things, the night docs were finishing a week of rotations at 7
am and were being replaced by the daytime docs. Clarifying and
confirming the procedure for delivery took a few hours.
After we had a plan, we tapped Ephraim's bladder once again to compress his unique and extremely large bladder. The doctors removed 1100 milliliters from him in preparation for his delivery. After a long prep period we entered the operating room and Ephraim Ross McCann was delivered at 12:03 pm on August 18, 2014 weighing 9 lbs and 4 ounces. He was immediately rushed to respiratory therapy where he was intubated.
After less than an hour, the NICU docs came to our room with very long faces and told us what we were so afraid and yet so prepared to hear. No matter the amount of oxygen, Ephraim's lungs were not developed to absorb and process oxygen. The enormous bladder and stomach from the distended abdomen had crowded out the lungs and left them with no room to develop. As we invited our family and friends to our room to meet our newest son we knew our time with him was limited. Finally we gathered to pray over Ephraim and thank God for his short but fruitful life. As we were praying around 3:25 pm his heart stopped beating and his spirit left his body. Our beautiful baby boy we just welcomed into the world left in just more than three hours.
The saddness of this situation is oppressive. Our hearts are very heavy even though this is what we expected to happen. No matter how many times we heard the "poor" prognosis, we seemed to remind ourselves of an anecdotal story of a bladder outlet obstruction gone right. Hope is interesting. No matter how bad we knew the situation was and how bleak the odds looked, we had a way of keeping the door to good results open. We had to keep the door open. It's the only way we could make it through this pregnancy.
And the outcome of this situation is overwhelming, but by no means the worst case scenario. Megan and I had been praying that we would not need to make challenging ethical decisions that we would wonder about for years. God answered these prayers. No years of treatment or dozens of surgeries trying to repair a severely damaged body. No experimental procedures, living in different cities trying to raise a family while one child receives specialized treatment. No partial treatments and mediocre results while struggling to keep a marriage going. God had grace on us. We didn't have to choose between bad and worse.
While we didn't get the healthy baby we wanted we still believe Ephraim will live up to the meaning of his name, "fruitful". His life has already touched many and caused us to connect in a powerful way to many others. This has been an incredible burden to carry and you have helped us carry it, fulfilling the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2). Months of meals, frequent lawn and garden care, cleaning our house, watching our children as we go to doctors' appointments and people praying for us from all corners of the globe are just a few ways our burden has been lightened. Thank you for serving us. Thank you for fulfilling the law of Christ.
In addition we have attempted to humble ourselves and ask for help from others, a pride killing act. An act so pride killing and humbling that it has actually helped us to create community. As you know, the healthy don't need a doctor and people who have "it" all together don't tend to be hungry for more community. And maybe that was the greatest fruit of all. Maybe God sent us Ephraim so we could experience more of Him through life-giving relationships honoring to God. I'd say that's fruit.
How is Megan doing?
Probably about what you would expect. Recovering from surgery, missing the boy she has been attached to for 35 weeks and dealing with a very long night and day of decisions has left her very tired. But she is joyful to have the friends she has shared this journey with.
Ephraim was born on the birthday of my grandfather, Ross Sachs, and thought "Ross" was a fitting middle name.
After we had a plan, we tapped Ephraim's bladder once again to compress his unique and extremely large bladder. The doctors removed 1100 milliliters from him in preparation for his delivery. After a long prep period we entered the operating room and Ephraim Ross McCann was delivered at 12:03 pm on August 18, 2014 weighing 9 lbs and 4 ounces. He was immediately rushed to respiratory therapy where he was intubated.
After less than an hour, the NICU docs came to our room with very long faces and told us what we were so afraid and yet so prepared to hear. No matter the amount of oxygen, Ephraim's lungs were not developed to absorb and process oxygen. The enormous bladder and stomach from the distended abdomen had crowded out the lungs and left them with no room to develop. As we invited our family and friends to our room to meet our newest son we knew our time with him was limited. Finally we gathered to pray over Ephraim and thank God for his short but fruitful life. As we were praying around 3:25 pm his heart stopped beating and his spirit left his body. Our beautiful baby boy we just welcomed into the world left in just more than three hours.
The saddness of this situation is oppressive. Our hearts are very heavy even though this is what we expected to happen. No matter how many times we heard the "poor" prognosis, we seemed to remind ourselves of an anecdotal story of a bladder outlet obstruction gone right. Hope is interesting. No matter how bad we knew the situation was and how bleak the odds looked, we had a way of keeping the door to good results open. We had to keep the door open. It's the only way we could make it through this pregnancy.
And the outcome of this situation is overwhelming, but by no means the worst case scenario. Megan and I had been praying that we would not need to make challenging ethical decisions that we would wonder about for years. God answered these prayers. No years of treatment or dozens of surgeries trying to repair a severely damaged body. No experimental procedures, living in different cities trying to raise a family while one child receives specialized treatment. No partial treatments and mediocre results while struggling to keep a marriage going. God had grace on us. We didn't have to choose between bad and worse.
While we didn't get the healthy baby we wanted we still believe Ephraim will live up to the meaning of his name, "fruitful". His life has already touched many and caused us to connect in a powerful way to many others. This has been an incredible burden to carry and you have helped us carry it, fulfilling the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2). Months of meals, frequent lawn and garden care, cleaning our house, watching our children as we go to doctors' appointments and people praying for us from all corners of the globe are just a few ways our burden has been lightened. Thank you for serving us. Thank you for fulfilling the law of Christ.
In addition we have attempted to humble ourselves and ask for help from others, a pride killing act. An act so pride killing and humbling that it has actually helped us to create community. As you know, the healthy don't need a doctor and people who have "it" all together don't tend to be hungry for more community. And maybe that was the greatest fruit of all. Maybe God sent us Ephraim so we could experience more of Him through life-giving relationships honoring to God. I'd say that's fruit.
How is Megan doing?
Probably about what you would expect. Recovering from surgery, missing the boy she has been attached to for 35 weeks and dealing with a very long night and day of decisions has left her very tired. But she is joyful to have the friends she has shared this journey with.
Ephraim was born on the birthday of my grandfather, Ross Sachs, and thought "Ross" was a fitting middle name.
Breaking News
Just an update for those following along at home, we have arrived at the hospital after the water broke around 1am Monday. We are as ready as we can be and we are happy to have made it to 35 weeks. More updates to come...
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
"The Waiting Is the Hardest Part"
Tom Petty had this one right. After the daily concerns of making it to the hospital before the baby makes his arrival and the added focus of trying to attend a wedding four hours from the hospital at close to 34 weeks, now that we are in Cincinnati, it seems like the calm before the storm. All we have to do is wait...and plan.
We had a three hour "routine" appointment Monday morning with the doctors. I say doctors because we've met every maternal fetal specialist in the practice, plus the new guys. I tend to forget that we're getting older. We're only thirty-four but the new docs in medical school look really young! I guess we're just showing our age. We hope we can help them prepare for the next case like this.
The docs have us in a tight spot with this one. On the one hand, the best incubator for Ephraim is mom's belly and that is where he is going to have the best odds for improving lung finishing and making sure all systems are ready to go before takeoff. However, as I've mentioned several times, my wife's belly has been larger than full term for more than a month. This does not necessarily mean she will go into labor but many multiple-birth pregnancies are preterm due in part to the size of the uterus. At thirty-four weeks we've just crossed a major milestone in obstetrics which puts us in to the best odds other than full term (38-40 weeks). The doctors at Children's Hospital want the baby as developed as possible so they can manage relatively more mature organs. For now we are monitoring fetal movement and we will report on any decreases in his activity.
So we wait.
We had a three hour "routine" appointment Monday morning with the doctors. I say doctors because we've met every maternal fetal specialist in the practice, plus the new guys. I tend to forget that we're getting older. We're only thirty-four but the new docs in medical school look really young! I guess we're just showing our age. We hope we can help them prepare for the next case like this.
The docs have us in a tight spot with this one. On the one hand, the best incubator for Ephraim is mom's belly and that is where he is going to have the best odds for improving lung finishing and making sure all systems are ready to go before takeoff. However, as I've mentioned several times, my wife's belly has been larger than full term for more than a month. This does not necessarily mean she will go into labor but many multiple-birth pregnancies are preterm due in part to the size of the uterus. At thirty-four weeks we've just crossed a major milestone in obstetrics which puts us in to the best odds other than full term (38-40 weeks). The doctors at Children's Hospital want the baby as developed as possible so they can manage relatively more mature organs. For now we are monitoring fetal movement and we will report on any decreases in his activity.
So we wait.
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