twenty-first
September 19th, 2005. Published under parents. No Comments.
Elizabeth is home after being in the hospital all week. Last Monday she went in for a routine Cath Lab, usually done before the second surgery. They did an ultrasound on her kidneys and found that she has Pyloric Stynosis (spelling?). She was there all day Tuesday while they were waiting to see what they were going to do about it. Then on Wednesday they decided to correct it with surgery. So, they went in and relaxed the muscle that was tight leadng to her stomach. She came home Sunday. She is still fussy when feeding or just in general. We aren’t sure why but we are trying everything to keep her comfortable. She goes next week for her follow visit with the Cardiologist and two weeks she goes back to the stomach surgeon. It might take her a while before she totally tolerates her feedings. But it kind of sets us back on trying to get her off the feeding tube. We’ll keep you updated.
twenty-second
September 19th, 2005. Published under parents. No Comments.
Grandma Holly had a get-together for Ella on Sunday. Here are some pics. Thank you everyone for a good time and the nice gifts.
twenty-third
October 4th, 2005. Published under parents. No Comments.
Ella is doing better this week. She is keeping most of her feedings down and seems more comfortable. The doctors said they’ll probably be doing her surgery sometime in the next month. We should be getting a call to schedule. Ella was fussy last week and Daniel decided to put her back on her oxygen. It made a huge difference in her mood. So she is back on it. She hasn’t made much progress with eating by mouth. After she had her Plyoric Stinosis surgery she hasn’t seem very interested in taking a bottle. Hopefully after her next surgery we can work more on getting her off the tube. Daniel and I are looking forward to the day she sleeps through the night. As with any newborn, the first few months are are on the parents. I have found a part time job so I can stay home with Ella and the boys during the week. We also have found a bigger apartment in West Chester that we should be moving into in about a month. That is about all that is going on, I’ll post some new pics.
Obituary
October 9th, 2005. Published under parents. No Comments.
BLACK Elizabeth Maxwell. Beloved daughter of Danielle (nee Eynon) Long and Daniel Stricklen. Loving sister of Braeden, Noah, Keanu, Talianna, Shaiman and Kitana. Dear granddaughter of The Eynon and Stahl Families. Passed away Friday, October 7, 2005, age 3 months. Friends may call at Chas. A. Sons Funeral Home, 4138 Hamilton Avenue at Knowlton Street, Northside, Wednesday 11:00 A.M. until time of funeral service at 12:00 Noon. In lieu of flowers, gifts may be sent to Elizabeth Black Fund at Fifth Third Bank for the assistance to other children for their medical needs. Condolences may be expressed to the family by visiting www.chasamillersons.com.
A Letter
October 12th, 2005. Published under Uncategorized. No Comments.
It’s 2:30 in the morning, the day you’ll be buried. I wanted to write something profound, something touching, something about you and me and happiness and all that. I sit here and look at pictures and think back to when they were taken. I’ve written a list of things about you so I won’t forget. Things like how we dressed you in pink despite all our own protests, and how we loved it. Or like how you used to hold your pinky up, even in your sleep. Or like how you eventually smiled, and smiled often; but I never saw or heard you laugh. Things like how I can’t believe you’re gone, I can’t believe you’re not just at the hospital again, with nurses arguing over who gets to take care of you.
I look at these pictures, at your bed, at your clothes, at your toys, and I just want to hold you again, and never put you down. I want to hear you snore after I’ve rocked you to sleep. I want to feel your weight in my arms, and marvel at how you’ve grown. I want to set your mind at ease, tell you it’s okay, tell you how beautiful and wonderful and tough and important you are. I want to see that smile again, the one that cuts straight through me, the one we get when we tickle the side of your mouth.
I fell for you, Ella, and you fell for me, and then you fell without me, when you couldn’t breathe and your arms were limp and you tried to fight again, like so many fights you’ve won. I wasn’t with you as you died, to tell you how proud I was of you, to tell you that it would be okay and that you were stronger than other babies and that I would stay with you for as long as you needed me to. I wasn’t there to hum to you, to sing to you, to play with the side of your mouth until you smiled. If I could have you back, I’d do all those things and more. I’d tell you it will be okay, that you’re tough, that I’m proud, that I love you.
You came into this world kicking and screaming, and instantly the world was more. A part of me doesn’t want to live in a world without you, a lesser world. That part of me is lost in the middle of the night when it’s time to feed you. That part of me is lost without your weight on my shoulder, or in my arms. That part of me is lost in the middle of the night when there’s nothing to be heard except my own breathing. That part of me is lost, and always will be.
Where are you? I hope, and maybe pray, that, if you’re anywhere, you’re happy and laughing and pooping. I know that, if you’re anywhere, with anyone, that you’re breaking their hearts, too. If you’re anywhere, and you can, would you stop by and say, “Hi,” or just give me that look in one of your last pictures, the look like you’re seven already, the look where I can see what my baby girl would’ve grown up to look like? The look where you’re not a baby and you don’t need heart surgery and maybe you have a crush on a boy. The one that makes me want to snatch you up last Friday morning and hold you all day because maybe if I showed you just how much I loved you, despite how I acted when I was frustrated, that you’d have stayed. That one, that picture, is all of them.
It’s 3:27 in the morning, the day you’ll be buried. I’m going to be a wreck, Elizabeth. I’m trying to stall, because once the day is over I won’t ever see you again. There won’t be this next time out on the horizon that I can look forward to seeing you. I’ll have pictures and empty blankets and empty clothes and an empty bed.
It’s 3:39 in the morning, the day you’ll be buried. I can’t bring myself to say “Goodbye”. All I can say is: I love you.