Process of Elimination

Here's the latest:

Our family Doctor talked to the Coroner. Seeing as we were desperate to know all that we could. She said they ruled out anything 'congenital', Reece's blood work came back "normal", it wasn't cancer, it wasn't a heart defect, it wasn't an allergic reaction to something in the house, the bacterial culture from her ear showed that the anti-biotics she had started had in fact kicked in...

so what does that leave us with?

WELL- Meningitis or Pneumonia cannot be ruled out at this point. Because she was on a 'second line' antibiotic, it could have masked the infection(s?).

The waiting continues.

Some consolation can be taken from the fact that it is taking them this long to figure it out- obviously taking her to emergency that night would not have changed the inevitable outcome.

Below is a video from early this summer, the drives home were something to get used to for our girls. Aiden would fall asleep once we hit the highway, and Reece would scream (she never liked being strapped into a car seat!) So to keep Reece appeased the chocolate-covered-lady-finger cookies would flow freely to the back seat!

Pain

It's 1:49 a.m.

At 1:30 a.m. I found my self sobbing on the bathroom floor and thought I need to do something.

I got home from work today with a migraine. Took my 'heavy duty' meds, which I haven't taken in months and went to bed. Woke up at midnight.
My heart was racing, my anxiety - full blast trying to over take me.
I've been at work two days this week. An accomplishment I think. Especially with her picture staring at me all day. Her big beautiful blue eyes, a picture taken just days before she was stolen from me.
After making myself eat something, take more meds and trying to tidy our disaster of a house I tried to go back to bed. But as soon as I hit the pillow I thought of her. My baby.
I could feel her in my arms, that last time in emergency. Wrapped in a hospital blanket. Looking like she was sleeping. My angel. I remember fighting the urge to get up and run out of the hospital with her in my arms. Refusing to believe that what they were telling me was true. My baby was dead. My perfect, sweet, loving little baby.
I told her every single night before I'd put her to bed "you know you are my angel, mommy loves you".
I feel like - if there is a god, he just punched me in the gut.
How could this happen.
I'm left with the horrific images of that morning.
Her breathing sounding laboured.
Her reaching for me- saying "mummy". Kissing her forehead, as I did at least a million times a day. And just thinking, if I could get the bathroom steamy enough she would just cough up whatever it was, and then she'd be good as new again. Then seeing her blue eyes roll back, and taking her soother out of her mouth to see her lips were blue. She had given up. She had left herself in my arms to save her.
She was my joy.
Unless you have a baby, I don't know if you can truly understand what that means. I told friends long ago, that Aiden was my 'heart' and Reece was my 'joy'. Aiden being the first born, and an easy baby, taught me how wonderful parenthood could be. As she gets older and more like me, we are in constant struggle to get along. Because of her, I loved Reece before she was born, because I 'knew what I was getting into'. .. or so I thought. Reece ended up being so much more. She was nothing like me, which is probably why we 'clicked' so well. She was funny, free spirited, brave, daring, and so sensitive. I needed to be needed, and she did that for me. Which is what makes this so terrible. She needed me to help her that morning. She trusted me to be her mom. She picked us to be her parents. And I let her down.
I know I've been told over and over and over, that there was nothing we could have done differently, that other parents, even those with medical training, would have done the same things.
But it really means nothing to me.
Those are just words.

I keep telling myself every morning, that I have to keep going through the motions. And if I do, then eventually I'll feel 'normal' again. So I get up, drag my ass to work, put in my 8 hours and drag my ass back home. The drive home is terrible. Frightening really.
I had just started this great new job 2 weeks before Christmas. I would race home after work to see Reece. It was all I could think about. And because I didn't get done work until 5:30 I was getting home fairly late. Hearing her little voice, and see her come running to me. Now all I can think is that she is buried in the graveyard across the highway from town, and I just want to go there instead of home. I have to fight the urge to go there. I want to go there and throw myself down on her grave a begg God to please say it's not true, and to bring her back some how.
I would give anything.
...to give Aiden her best friend back. To give Grant his baby back. To give Kathy her grand-baby back.
2:28 a.m. So I'm expected at work tomorrow. I need to work, Grant doesn't have a contract yet. And by the looks of things likely won't until next year, that's if we are lucky. I'd love to know where this supposed 'teacher' shortage is that I was told about in 1995!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But I digress, someone needs to support this family so I guess I should find some more drugs in this house so I can get to sleep so I can get to work and hopefully make it through the entire day.

New Beginnings

After reading a blog started by my very industrious girlfriend, Margaret, I felt like maybe this could be an outlet for me to deal with everything that has been happening to me, and those around me in the past few weeks.

For those of you who perhaps fell upon this blog, and don't know me I'll give you a short background:
My name is Ange. I'm a mom to 2 beautiful girls -Aiden (5) & Reece (20 mths). I'm married to my best friend, Grant. We've been together 12 years. I have the most amazing, wonderful friends in the world, who give me such strength, and always know what to say and maybe more importantly, what not to.
My youngest daughter, Reece passed away just recently. When I say recently- on December 27th, 2007. She passed out in my arms that morning, while I was trying to steam up the bathroom to help her loosen up the phlegm in her chest ( she sounded like she was getting a chest infection or something of the kind). She had started antibiotics for an ear infection. We still are waiting for answers.

Why us? Why Reece? What was it? What happened? What could we have done differently?

As we muddle through the next year, I am going to document our struggle.
I know that writing can be cathartic... so I've heard... guess we'll see.