I can honestly say, I’ve never had a more terrifying experience than the one I had in the emergency room on Wednesday afternoon when Dottie was intubated. The alarms on the monitors, the urgency with which they removed her from my arms, the words spoken over the ER intercom, the sound of people running toward her room, and the commotion that followed … all are etched into my brain. The images replay on the backs of my eyelids. My whole body tenses and anxiety takes over. It’s hard to sleep when I’m away from her. I can’t just look over and see her and know that she’s okay.

But Dottie is stable. She is in the PICU, diagnosed with rhino/enterovirus and bronchiolitis. She had to be intubated because every other respiratory support they tried was not enough. She just continued to desat. It appears that the situation was further complicated by an increase to the dose of one of her seizure medications. Since arriving in the PICU, she has been making gradual improvements. They have her on broad spectrum antibiotics and have been weaning her respiratory support slowly. She has been receiving NG tube feeds and tolerating it well. Her Diabetes Insipidus has remained stable. Neurology and Neuro-Oncology are working on a solution to better control her Infantile Spasms, without the sedating effects of the current medication. (Perhaps we’ll just use a decreased dose.) Neuro-Oncology has taken this opportunity to check in on her tumor with a sedated MRI. Hopefully we’ll see those results tomorrow. And for the first time since right before Dottie was intubated on Wednesday, I was able to hold her today. 

It is likely that Dottie will remain intubated for another 24-48 hours, depending on how she responds to the support being weaned. But, she is making progress, and we praise the Lord for that. 

When we arrived in the emergency room on Wednesday, I never imagined that this is where we would currently be. I thought for sure that we would be home later that day or the next. But here we are … exhausted and wanting nothing more than to be home, all of us in one place, again. We are missing Charlie, Charlie is missing us, and more than anything, he is missing his baby sister. My heart breaks when I have to tell him that, “no, Dottie can’t come home yet,” and “no, you can’t go see her.” Praying that we don’t have to wait too long to reunite them. 

My heart hurts all the more because of what we are missing. At church this coming Sunday we had planned to dedicate Dottie. We were so looking forward to a day to celebrate her life, and with family and friends present, dedicate our girl to the Lord and ask that He use us and her for His glory. I wish that we weren’t having to miss that, but everything in the Lord’s timing. 

So, now we do our best to be patient. To trust that all of the medical interventions that Dottie is receiving will heal her body of this illness and allow her to return home with us soon. We pray for extra strength for her and for us, and for the ability to rest in the promise that the Lord is in control. 

Lord, carry me. I've reached the point where I’m not just exhausted, I’m completely spent. I’m at the end of myself. I can't even take another step on my own. To keep moving feels impossible without help … Your help. I need You. Carry me through this dark valley. Hold my hand until I can see light again. Heal my Dottie girl. 

Lord, carry us.