The last of the good ones...

On Monday the 22nd my dad passed away.

I still can't believe its real. It seems like a bad dream.

Since this is my scrapbook and journal that I put into books for posterity... here is what I want to remember...

On the Friday before we had gone to Costco together. He had wanted a blood pressure monitor they had on their web site. I'd felt bad because I needed a few things and made him walk all over the store with me. He was in good enough health to do it, but I still felt bad making him walk so much. At least I got to see him in good health one last time, and he got to see Ash and Em one last time.

I talked to him on Saturday day and he said he was tired. He'd done a bunch of stuff that morning and I told him he'd probably wore himself out and to go take a nap. He said he was going to.

On Saturday night Brandon called me to say he was at Davis Hospital. Dad had been in horrible pain and unable to move, so they ended up taking him by ambulance there. I'm still attached to the baby (he's breastfeeding), and I didn't want to take him there, so I told Brand to update me as soon as they knew anything.

Davis diagnosed him with a kidney stone. Pretty minor. Brandon called LDS to see if they wanted to see him and they said yes, when he's stable have him transferred up here. Thank God he did that. Brand figured he was in good hands and left him with my mom.

At LDS they not only didn't find a kidney stone, but Davis's report that came with him didn't mention it. LDS found pneumonia. They admitted him to ICU right away. This was in the middle of the night. In the morning this had gotten progressively worse. They had to put in a breathing tube to help relieve some of the stress of the body because his heart was having a hard time pumping.

I immediately went to the hospital. He was covered in IVs, had a breathing tube, and a feeding tube in his nose. It was horrific to see him covered in tubes, but he was awake and could write things down for us since he couldn't talk. I ran back and forth between the hospital and home to feed the baby all day. Nothing had changed and he was hanging in there, so about nine I went home to feed the baby and decided to sleep for a minute. As I was climbing in bed Brand texted me and said come right now. That's it. No explanation... just come.

The panic was instant. I couldn't think. I got dressed and ran out the door. Showed Tom where I had some formula for emergencies. Called Brand as soon as I was in the car and he said Dad had gone into cardiac arrest (his heart had stopped). They had gotten it started again, but he was non-responsive. In a coma.

We spent the rest of the night huddled around his bed. He had two more cardiac arrests... the third one took 23 minutes to restart his heart. This was about 1:30 Monday morning. We were all in shock and mostly sobbing.

The docs said most people come out of the coma in a day. After that the chances are pretty slim, but if they don't by three days then it pretty much isn't going to happen. They will need the machines to live forever.

His favorite doc came by late Monday. He filled us in on the bad news. We were at the 24 hour mark and he was still in a coma. And the worst part was that he had tested his neural responses and found none. Meaning the cardiac arrests had taken their toll on his brain and he was severely brain damaged. {Something my subconscious knew after 23 minutes of CPR... I just didn't want to face it.}

Then came the hard part... what did we want to do? We could wait another few days and see if he came out of the coma, but he would not be himself, or have any type of normal life. Anyone who knows my dad knows this is not an option. He was already upset he couldn't function at full speed and he was still able to drive and function pretty normally.

Another option was to wait for another cardiac arrest and order them not to revive him.

The last option was to pull the machines keeping him alive.

Far and away the hardest choice to make. The answer was obvious, but impossible to make. We all agreed. Pull the machines and see what happens. I secretly hoped he'd just be fine, but my mind knew better. Luckily my dad's family who lives around here was also there at the time, so we pulled them in and they agreed.

I called Tom and let him know it was going to happen and he said he was on his way. We called my uncle to give him one last blessing.

The tech pulled the dialysis machine (it was functioning for his kidneys). They said we would have a few hours at this point, but his heart immediately started dropping. This was before any of the medicine was stopped. My dad was ready. He didn't even make it another half hour. My uncle and Tom both missed him. I think he was pissed and ready to go.

The rest is a blur. Prayers. Goodbyes. Tears.

I still can't believe it. I drove past an old man painting his railing on his porch and thought "my dad will never get to enjoy being retired, and puttering around like that. How unfair."

It all just seems so unfair. Such a good guy. His dad had said he was "one of the last of the good ones" before he died last year. It's true. I can't imagine the rest of my life without him.

Ash wanted to know if Grandpa took an airplane to get to heaven. I hope he's there relaxing and enjoying things. Chatting with grandpa. Talking about Ash and Em with Tom's dad. Maybe puttering around like he would down here if he got the chance to retire and relax. I hope so.

Introducing Em...

Emrick Foster Davies

August 2, 2011
7 pounds 14 ounces
Born at 8:30 am











Tom and I had been debating over names forever. We couldn't agree on one. Tom liked names like Teegan and Jasper, and I liked Cohen and Jack. We had already agreed on the middle name though, Foster... like uncle Rory's middle name (which I think was Tom's dad's uncle). I was pretty much settled on naming him Cohen and Tom had pretty much given up and said I could name him whatever. Two days before I was supposed to go have him, Tom said he just couldn't name him Cohen. We had to find something else.

So we had a day to pick a name. Something we hadn't been able to do for months. We literally spent like three hours throwing different names out. Nothing was sticking. The closest we got to a consensus was Rizen, but we didn't love it.

I started thinking of names that incorporated my dad's name, Rick, in a more modern way. I asked Tom about Emrick and he was instantly like I love it. We bounced it around for a few hours and it just stuck. We finally figured it out. I love that it's strong and unique, and it has some family meaning. Best of all... Emrick means "immortal", which is awesome!

My delivery was scheduled by c-section on the 2nd at 7:30. My paperwork said it would actually start about 2 hours later, and to call at 5:30AM and make sure the time would work. I called at 5:30 and they said be here at 6:00AM. Yikes! I had just rolled out of bed and was determined this delivery would be better than the last. I wanted my hair at least decent and a mild amount of makeup on. I told the lady she would have to give me 20 extra minutes.

When we got to the hospital they told me I was actually supposed to be there at 5:30 and the c-section was supposed to happen at 7:30... so they started rushing me through everything.

They took me to room 12... and I cracked a few jokes about thank heavens it wasn't 13 like last time. I mean what hospital even has a room 13? It's crazy. I started getting dressed and a nurse came in and said I was in the wrong room. They had already set me up in room 13. I was like you are joking? You heard me joking and now your playing a joke on me, right? Nope. I thought about it for a few minutes. The c-section happens in the surgery room, so it wasn't like I was actually going to have much happen in room 13, so we moved.

From there... it's kind a blur. They took me in the surgery room, gave me the numbing block, and got started. I was really nervous because last time I wasn't numb and could feel everything. I kept wondering if what I felt was normal and I was just a wimp? But it turns out this time I was really numb and felt hardly anything. I kept telling Tom to look over the curtain and see what was happening because I couldn't feel anything. He wouldn't of course. He didn't want to see any of that again.

The anesthesiologist got a kick out of my story. I told him after Asher was born I told Tom that the anesthesiologist was so sweet. He had been rubbing my hair and telling me that I was all right. Tom was like... ummm, that was me. I was pretty out of it at that point.

The baby came and it was very weird to be so aware of everything this time, vs being knocked out (they eventually had to knock me out last time because I could feel it). It was great to see the baby right after and watch Tom bond with him.

Emrick has been a great baby so far. Asher is in love with him and always wants to hold him and love him. He likes to have him lay in his bed with him for a while at night, and he will show him books and read him stories. It is very sweet.

We are so lucky to have two such cute boys!

Asher conversations...

It's funny when Ash messes up words because he talks REALLY well normally.

Some funny ones he says lately:

If he wants to pretend to read the "instructions" he says "let me see those constructions..."

He's fascinated by the rattle snake and scorpion bite calls that Tom gets and he always says, "tell me about those corpion bits."

Ash has adjusted to being a big brother pretty good so far. I had kind of been warning him how the baby eats so it wasn't a total shock, but the first time he saw me breastfeeding at the hospital he said "let's just not look, ok dad?"

I'll get some pics of the baby up soon. I don't know where the time goes everyday but it just seems to fly by.

The farmer's market...

We took Ash to the farmer's market a few weeks ago and he was being pretty cute:



We had fun walking around and sipping on the best limeades I've ever tasted. We got lunch at the Sudanese stand, which I had been craving since Tom tried it last year. So yummy.

Ash asked me to take his picture by these little bears...


silly bean

The prego belly...

I didn't dare ask Tom to take a picture of my belly. He's not a fan of it anyway. But I still wanted a picture just for the baby's book, so I gave my camera's remote control a try.

They aren't the greatest pics... but at least the belly has been memorialized for when its gone!

Here I am at 38 weeks.



a big ole bowling ball of fun...

Summer stuff...

We have been doing lots of fun stuff for the summer. Tom has been home on the weekends so we often get to do fun things with him too.

Ash's daycare went to the zoo on a Friday. It was a big deal to the kids, so I couldn't let Ash miss it, and decided to tag along with them. They broke the kids into groups of 4-5, and Ash's best buddy Gerritt was in a different group, but his second favorite Emery was with him.


She's a cutie.

Tom has been doing lots of work in our yard. Ash loves to help... and of course by help I mean make a big mess... but they always have fun together.


For the fourth of July I asked Asher what he wanted to do. Go to a parade? No. His choice... fishing. He so takes after his dad.



We didn't take him to fireworks. He doesn't like loud noises and has always hated fireworks... and it wouldn't be worth all the effort of parking and driving. We saw some from the house and Ash was like wow for about two seconds and then he was over it and hated them again.

And my dad is finally home from the hospital. That was a great day! We went over to see him and he was doing so much better than he had in the hospital. It's a mental thing to be home and free from cords and machines... and let's not forget clothes... no more hospital gowns to arrange and rearrange to make sure nothing is hanging out. He's moving around more... in fact... that day he was hanging around outside. Brandon and Ash were chasing a water snake around the yard and my dad walks right up to it and picks it up.


That's so my dad. Back to normal.

Thomas conversations...

This is a text convo between Tom and I after my last doctor's appointment:

Me: Doc says baby is a-ok.
Tom: What about contractions?
Me: Sit and hydrate when I get them. More than six an hour then call.
Tom: Why are you so big? Did you ask?
Me: U suck. And no.

I really should take some pictures of myself for posterity's sake. I am easily as big as I was with Ash when I delivered and I still have a whole month to go (the month the baby is supposed to just pretty much gain weight). Yikes.

Maybe I'll get my loving and supportive husband to take a few pics of my wonderful belly.