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Welcome! The ABOUT page tells who we are and what we do. Like what you see? Then click DONATE to read about ways to help Team Abby. Below are various blog posts that relate to our foundation. If you need to get in touch, don't hesitate to CONTACT us! P.S.- My favorite post is here, and it tells you about the day Abby was born... and what happened next.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Two Years Ago Today

Two years ago today we had the best and worst day of our lives.

Two years ago today, I felt a "snap" and heard my daughter's heart rate drop off the monitor during a routine induction.

Two years ago today, as nurses frantically inserted an IV and pushed my bed down the hall to the OR, I prayed the hardest I have ever prayed in my entire life.

Two years ago today, I delivered my daughter in the scariest fashion imaginable.

Two years ago today, I learned that nurses are heroes.

Abby, just moments after being resuscitated

Two years and one day from this moment, I met my daughter for the first time-- covered in wires, head wrapped in a cooling cap, and tube helping her breathe.



We were told she wouldn't make it.

We were told to expect the worst.

We were told that even if she did make it through that first week, we were not out of the woods and would probably need to decide to either take her off life support or be parents to a daughter in a vegetative state.


She was baptized in my arms.  It took two nurses and a respiratory tech to get her there.  It was the first time I would hold her, at four days old, and the last time I'd hold her for awhile.


That week, we watched our sweet girl double in size as fluid filled her tiny body, unable to get rid of it because her kidneys had failed.


I prayed the second hardest I ever had; this time I prayed she would pee.

We ALL prayed she would pee.


And then... she did.


That was the second happiest day of our lives, despite the fact the EEG showed little brain activity.

We hated that EEG.


Then came the moment of truth-- they weaned her off her seizure meds to see if her brain would wake up.

We waited and waited to see what damage almost an hour without air had done to her baby brain.

She opened her eyes.



She looked at her daddy.


Even with the doctors saying they still weren't sure if she would make it, and that she'd probably have significant brain damage, she tried to show us otherwise.


We should have listened to that little one, trying to tell us she'd be okay.


50 days after she was born, we finally took our baby home from the hospital.


So each 4th of July, when we see fireworks, we remember our own little firecracker.  And we remember to never, ever, ever, ever, EVER give up...

...or take life for granted...

...or say "no" when someone offers help...

...or forget that God does listen...

{just like those little bitty babies, even when we think they can't hear}.

Happy birthday, dear Abby.  You continue to amaze and inspire all who meet you every day.  In the words of your doctor, no pressure, but there's a reason you are here.  We expect great things from you, as you've already pulled off what most said was impossible.

Abby in front of the NICU where she spent her first hours of life


Just remind me of this little story the next time you hit your brother or throw a tantrum because you want to stay outside, you little stinker.  ;-)  You are two now, you know.

4 comments:

  1. I have shared your blog on my own and hope you continue to pick up momentum in your mission. Abby is beautiful.

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  2. I popped over from PSMM...wow! What an amazing story! So glad that Abby has flourished against all odds. :)

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  3. Clearly, our girls wanted to be here. Kenna is still struggling in the NICU, but every day we have hope as she continues to amaze. Thank you for sharing your story.

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