Every Thursday, we get kicked out of the NICU from 5:00-6:30 pm so it can undergo sterilization. Around 3:30 pm on Thursday, Navy Rose’s bedside was called for code blue and we rushed in for teams to see her oxygen and heart rates nosedive. By the time we were kicked out at 5, she was stable but not yet breathing on her own. As we left, her head was being poked and prepped for additional seizure monitoring and a mask likened to a scuba diving mask was about to be placed over her face to control oxygen and pressure to help her airway.

It’s 5:38 pm now. I’m in the NICU waiting lobby emotionally exhausted and raw. I’ve always said that writing is therapeutic for me, but this feels like the ultimate test. As I reflect on week three, there were more lows and setbacks but I need to find tender mercies. So here I go. 

Baxter is the baby across from Navy. Baxtor has the sweetest mama (and if we are being judgmental, the youngest mama, too) who has constantly asked us how we are, if we’ve had dinner yet, or if there’s anything we need from her. Baxter’s Grandma is also a sweetheart, stitching together a blanket for Navy Rose. Coming to our space one night, we opened our parent drawer to find the blanket and a note that read: “I hope she likes the blanket! Keeping you in our prayers.”

Kai’s birthday was Tuesday and we took him to visit Navy for the first time. Their little first union was so sweet, and magical of course. He poked her toes, counted her fingers (then his, then hers, then his one more time), held her fist so tight, read to her, told her stories, sang to her, played with her cords, and looked adoringly at her (when he wasn’t distracted by spinning in the fun chairs). We told some people about bringing Kai in on his birthday and consequently everyone spoiled the three-year-old. He got presents from everyone; my favorite was a card with Navy’s foot as a rocketship from the Child Life Specialist team. I have Dad dreams of Navy recreating that card every year from now on for Kai’s birthday. 

Wednesday was our first code blue experience, which occurred in the middle of parent hour focusing on spirituality. From the accounts told, after we rushed out the room hushed and the chaplain led a prayer in our behalf. Additionally, a note was passed around and people signed their wishes for us which was really thoughtful and appreciated. 

Brain dump: Stet got the paper mailed. I can’t wait to see it. Tamara took Maggie again. She looks so happy. My English department dropped off a card. All the words were what I needed. Grandma and Grandpa Edmunds took Kai, even made a snowman. Grandma and Grandpa Godfrey took care of our house, even made the cakes and cupcakes for Kai’s birthday party. We had burgers and shakes at 9 pm for dinner in a hospital hallway in complete silence; talk about a hot date night. 

My principal has been touching base to see how things are going. She texted one morning and I responded for her to give me a call sometime, even in the evening, and I could share the latest and my plans. Five minutes later, she called me. After sharing that Navy was having this breathing drama but we didn’t know much, my principal told me she didn’t want to see me at school this week. I shared my discomfort with all of this, saying I missed my kids at Weber, but my principal reminded me I was needed at home first. They had everything taken care of for me at Weber. After another round of concerns another time, this was the text I got back: “Thank you for the update and you should not be at school. I am so sorry you guys are going through this and I fully support your need to be with your family. I can’t imagine what you are going through and the helpless feelings you are experiencing. I hope you guys get some answers and solutions soon.”

Here’s another thoughtful text one random morning from a random number this past week: “Hi Steve. Just wanted you and Heather to know that Lori and I have been praying for you and your sweet little girl. We love you and we’re excited for your new addition! President Howell.”

And another text, from a former student: “Hey Mr G! I heard about your sweet Navy Rose ? Myself and my roommates donated to the Venmo. Just wanted to let you know that people near and far love you and your family and if there is any other way I can help just let me know!”

It’s now Sunday. It was a tough morning and long day, but I kept telling Heather that I wanted to write some more Tender Mercies. It helps.

On Friday I was determined to make everything a tender mercy and motivation. It was hard to get out of bed because of fear of what the day might bring and what Navy would look like. We were (still are) emotionally exhausted and didn’t know if we could do another day. But, I wake up. I start driving: “Don’t Give Up” sign posted in a yard. I got to McDonalds: their display advertises morning sips and flashes “You’ve got this.” We meet up with Mileena at the hospital and I ask her for her spiritual message from her Bible study that morning: Don’t pull tomorrow’s clouds over today’s sunshine. I get on social media and watch a video shared by a missionary: “I can do all things through Christ which strengthen me,” specifically the admonition that I can soldier on or I can put up a fight in trials. 

Staying at the Ronald McDonald House has been a game changer for us. All the resources are available and it’s so convenient. We can do our laundry here, play pool while we wait for laundry, get donuts every morning, and participate in special evening activities like crafts or pet play. It’s all run by volunteers and no payment from us is expected. With our house passes, we were also able to get into SeaQuest for free, so we took Kai on Saturday for a nice break to feed ‘crocodoctors’ and pet stingrays. 

As Heather wrote earlier, we attended a church service this morning on the 3rd floor of the hospital in an auditorium. Kids in wheelchairs or with machines were wheeled in and doctors and nurses attended in scrubs. All I’ve wanted all week have been hugs and taking the bread of our Savior was a hug. Navy’s team called right after that hug as our morning Rounds were occurring, so I left without taking the water. They had reading material, some donated pillows and blankets, and Come Follow Me handouts on a table so I wandered back downstairs after Rounds to look at it all. A man recognized me and said he noticed my wife got the water on her way out but I did not. Finding an older gentleman, the three of us closed the door, huddled, and they blessed and served the water so I could feel another hug.