In the first few months after Lauren's accident, I did a lot of writing to fill the time.  Someday I would like to write a book about our journey. I am so thankful I have these early writings to help me remember how far we have come! I came across this sample last night and felt compelled to share it with all of you. maybe it will help someone who feels hopeless...keep the faith!

June 17^th 2013

The day of Lauren’s shunt surgery finally arrived. I was looking forward to getting it over with. The thought of your child having brain surgery is extremely scary, the thought of your child having her 4^th brain surgery is even worse. The hard part is knowing that she had no clue what was even going on.  I didn’t even know if she knew who I was? In my heart I believed that she did, but she was incapable of showing any type of facial expressions or emotion.

Dave couldn’t get more time off from work, I was on my own. We transported to Northwestern from RIC by wheel chair and went to pre op. After they covered her forehead with white sticker type things, Lauren and I sat in big, crowded waiting room in preparation for her surgery. We were quite the sight, I dressed her in her “Don’t worry, I got this “ T shirt. Sometimes I look back at my stupidity and even annoy myself.

With each person we encountered they went through the standard pre op questions and procedures. Each set of questions was the same, (these people should really share notes) it was sad for me as I didn’t have anything positive to say during all these medical questions other than she was still alive. Not a lot of positive brain function going on at this time. I’m not sure why, but just having to answer the questions honestly was like I was admitting defeat and I wanted absolutely no part of that. The last nurse we encountered was so nice. He was most likely in his mid-fifties and super flamboyant.  When he was done with all the pre op questions, he looked at me and said, “She is really lucky to have such a good mom.” “Can I give you a hug?”  I needed that hug and I will never forget him.

 A few minutes later, her brain surgeon came in to talk to me, he made me feel at ease. He was compassionate just like Dr. Chu from Cedars. It isn’t easy to find a compassionate brain surgeon, but I was lucky enough to find 2 of them. They were getting ready to wheel Lauren back and said the standard, “say your goodbyes to mom.” I leaned in to kiss her one last time, told her how much I loved her and that I would see her soon. As I was trying to stop my lip from trembling in front of all these people, the tears started flowing. The sad part was that I was aware that my tears were more for the fact that she had no clue what was going on. She was going in for brain surgery and showed no emotion as I said my goodbye; she wasn’t even confused; she was not cognitively aware enough to be confused. She was just blank.

I found my seat in the big waiting room and sat in the corner, as far away from people as possible. The room was full of loved ones waiting on their family members having surgery. Some groups of people had 10-20 people waiting. I laughed to myself thinking up scenarios in my head. This group to my right is having a family reunion as someone gets a new rotator cuff or hey this family is waiting for knee surgery to be complete. Meanwhile I sat in the corner with my ear buds hoping that no one noticed me listening to church songs quietly sobbing . The last 25 years had flashed before my eyes as I was waiting. I sat and chastised myself for every mistake I made as a mother. “Why didn’t I read to her more as a kid?” Why did I have to fly off the handle when we argued.” Why didn’t I buy her everything that she asked for?” “Why didn’t I visit her in NY more?”

Motherhood is never easy but sitting in a big hospital waiting room all by yourself in an unfamiliar city has to be one of my hardest moments as a mother and as a person I have experienced. I wanted to scream, instead I sat quietly in the corner, with tears streaming down my face for hours. I must have made some kind of world record for the number of tears shed at Northwestern that day.

I had been in touch with Dave by phone all day as he was really struggling not being there. He had an afternoon meeting scheduled with his boss and things were not going well at work. He was unhappy in his job pre accident and after the accident the stress was really getting to him. At the end of their meeting his boss asked about Lauren, Dave mentioned that Lauren was actually in surgery as they spoke. His boss suggested Dave take a leave of absence and go be with us and Dave agreed. A few hours later he hopped on a plane to Chicago and was with me by 10 pm.  Forever my  knight in shining armor. I was never so happy to see someone come through the door.