So close, yet so far.........

I never really thought about the act of eating. Actually, the act of sucking, swallowing and breathing. It really is a complicated effort. You have to position your mouth just so to get liquid in. Then you have to coordinate your muscles to move it down your throat. And during this, you have to remember to pause and take a breath in.


I have this funny habit of drinking water from my water bottle. I take a looooooong drink that requires me to hold my breath for like 10 seconds, then when I'm done, I take in a loud gasp of air. Rich always asks me why don't I just pause to take a breath, but I seem to like doing it this way.


So as Colin is starting to find his way in this world, I guess he is trying to figure out how he likes to take in liquids. But the process seems like it is taking F.......O.......R......E.......V......E......R.


We have been giving this "feeding" project 3 weeks now, and we are slowly making progress. When we started, Colin was allowed 3 feeds by mouth a day. Since I really didn't know when he would be up for feeding, I decided to come to the hospital for 3 feeds in a row. He is given my breastmilk every 3 hours, so I would show up for the 9am, 12pm and 3pm feed.


So this is how it would go: I would get up after my 7am pump, and once done, I would quickly get dressed and head over to the hospital by 8:30am (you know, traffic and all!) Once I was there, I would get set up in my chair with a Boppy in my lap to prop up Colin and a nippleshield to place on to get him nursing (texture is important for this little guy!)


Then we get him out of his bed, and for 10-15 minutes, I would try to wake him up to eat. I would rub his head, undress him to his diaper, shift him around. And then maybe 1 time out of 10, he would latch on and start to eat for at least 10 minutes. 1 time out of 10 people!


This means that most of the times, nothing would work to wake him, and by 9:30am, he was back in his bed, with his feeding tube setup to start his feeding. Then I would have to wait another 3 hours before I could do this all over again. And then another 3 hours to do it AGAIN for the 3pm feeding.


By the end of the 1st week, exhausted was not quite the word I was feeling. More like overwhelmed. Nothing seemed to work. While babies are normally very sleepy, dealing with a preemie is sometimes even more so. He is dealing with medications, fluctuations in oxygen doses being administered and delayed neurological processing issues which make just trying to be awake to eat hard for him.


At the end of this first week, we ended up having a parent meeting with his hospital staff of doctors, nurses and clinical staff. We discussed vaccinations (a modified delayed schedule was agreed upon) and NOT moving him out of the NICU (which they were initially thinking of doing since he was doing so well).


So since he was going to stay in the NICU, I asked them how long I was going to have to keep up this effort of trying to get him to eat. Would he always be this sleepy, or would there come a point when they would try alternate measures?


To this, his doctor said that by the time Colin was 44 weeks (at the time of our conversation, he was 39 weeks), we should see him taking more feeds by mouth. If not, then we would MAYBE have to start discussing a G-tube. What is a G-tube you ask? Please watch this short 1:26 minute video to find out:



While it is not permanent, it could be used until Colin grows stronger and starts to master the process of eating food by mouth. Plus, it would reassure the hospital staff that Colin could come home with us with a fail safe way to continue to grow and gain weight. 


But still, it's a G-tube for crying out loud! Another surgery! Needless to say, I DO NOT WANT THIS. But then again, it's not me who can decide this. This really is up to Colin. If he couldn't eat much by mouth, then who was I to force him?


So by Friday night of that first week, I was feeling dejected. I went into the hospital for his 9pm feeding (I started trying as many different feedings to see if he would be more awake at other times) thinking "this is it, he is probably going to need a G-tube". 


But then, Colin decided that night to latch on and breastfeed for 30 minutes, the maximum amount of time he can do so without burning too many calories. It was just the boost I needed! 


The next day was his baby shower, so I wasn't able to get to the hospital all day until 9pm that next night, and again, he did 30 minutes breastfeeding. I thought, YES!, we are on a roll!


He was then allowed 4 feeds by mouth each day. That way, I could be there for at least 2 feeds during the day, Rich could do 1 feed at night (he likes being there for his 9pm feed to spend Daddy/Colin time!) and the nurses could do a feed if neither one of us were there. 


But this meant that while I could breastfeed when I was there, Rich and the nurses would have to feed Colin a bottle. And this is where lactation consultant vs. nursing staff had differing opinions. 


My lactation consultant (hospital provided) believed that only doing breastfeeding was the best option for Colin. She stated studies that showed that breastfeeding is easier for preemies to do, and that bottles put them at higher risk for aspiration (taking fluid into their lungs). 


But I was slowly staring to find that while breastfeeding had it's benefits, it also seemed tough for Colin. First, I realized that he needed to be swaddled to contain his squirmy arms that were getting in the way. However, when I would wrap him tight, he would then get cozy and sleepy, which I would then have to fight to keep him awake. Add that to being placed in a lying down position next to my warm and soft chest, he would find it hard to stay awake in his condition. I also soon realized that my little baby has his days & nights mixed up (which is common for NICU babies) so the feeds during the day he was at his sleepiest. 


However whenever Rich would come for the 9pm feeding at night to bottle feed Colin, this is when he would have the most success. We soon realized that several factors contributed to eating success at this time. Hearing his daddy's voice, having a bath, being very alert, and taking a bottle sitting up were allowing Colin to eat with Rich each and every single time. And this combo was allowing Rich to have more success with Colin, and it was allowing Colin more excercises in learning how to eat by mouth.

Colin awake after a feeding with daddy!

While a bottle contradicted what the lactation consultant was telling me, I soon realized that what the NICU nurses were telling me made sense: getting Colin home from the NICU was going to rely heavily on giving him a bottle, plain and simple. 


No one else could breastfeed him. Bottles were readily available. And the passive act of simply sucking in some milk and then swallowing it from a bottle was less taxing then breastfeeding was. I could see this!


Are we any closer to increasing his feeds by mouth? Not yet. I only came to this realization a few days ago. But I think we have stumbled onto a strategy that is going to work on increasing his feeds by mouth. This goes to show you how tricky it is dealing with a preemie. Or really any child with special needs. You have to figure out how things work FOR THEM, not what general guidelines say. 


At the same time, for the 2nd time yesterday I tried feeding Colin a bottle during his 12pm feeding (one of his usual sleepy times), and with Rich helping, he took 30 ml of a 52 ml bottle! But I find that I doubt myself when I give him a bottle. I don't feel as confident as when I breastfeed him. I hear the lactation consultant's warning about aspiration in my head, and I feel panic the whole time I'm feeding Colin his bottle. 


It is making me realize that being a mommy is wonderful, but it also comes with soooooo much guilt and responsibility. Am I making the right decision by limiting breastfeeding to only 1 feed a day (for now I am going to try the 3pm feed as a time to breastfeed)? Can I really feel comfortable feeding him a bottle at other times? So many questions, and of course, there is no guidebook to say "yes, you are on the right path". 


So I just have to trust my instincts, and hope that this course of action will lead us to our end goal: no G-tube and home from the NICU by March 24th, when Colin will be 44 weeks. Of course I have this date looming in the back of my head. But in the end, the only person that can determine the outcome I want is Colin. So wish us luck as we keep trying our strategies. In the meantime, I think Colin is just going to do what Colin is going to do. 


I just hope there is more of this:

Awake after a bottle session during the day!

And less of this:

Taking a short snooze after eating with Daddy!

As The Smith's say: "How Soon Is Now?"........

NICU life is a roller coaster. This is said over, and over and over and over again. By doctor's, nurses, social workers, and other preemie mommy's. The past week we have navigated the following:


1. Surviving shunt surgery: Colin recovered well from his surgery, and was off his breathing tube and back to the nasal cannula within 2 days! Doctor's and nurses were VERY pleased with his progress in this area. While I'm still a little scared to hold his head with the shunt, everyone in the hospital says that it doesn't hurt him and holding it won't hurt.


2. Nasal cannula: Doctor's are still trying to wean Colin off of having to use supplemental oxygen, and as of now, he is on the lowest setting. The next step would be taking it away and letting him breathe on his own! We are so close we can almost taste it, but for me (and mostly Colin), this will be a whole new world. Breathing on his own! Wait, can he really be ready for this? I mean, you want something for so long, but then you also become dependant on it, that you wonder if he can survive without it. Hoping that when it goes away, it doesn't make things harder.


3. Vaccines: Doctor's have been bringing up the fact that now that Colin is 2 1/2 months and over 5lbs, he should be ready for vaccinations. This has been a source of fear and uncertainty for Rich and I. While I don't believe at this point in the Autism-vaccine link, I am worried about the possible neurological effect that getting so many vaccines at once can do to his brain. Because Colin has one of the most severe brain bleeds, I look at his brain as such as fragile and delicate organ that needs to be protected and strengthened as much as possible. Could vaccines do more harm to it than good? Long talks with his neonatologist team and pediatrician's are on the agenda for the next few weeks. (And if you are slightly interested, here is an article that I felt was pretty well balanced in laying out the facts. A User Friendly Vaccine Schedule)


However, the one issue that has the potential to bring so much joy or sadness is the task of teaching Colin to feed by mouth. For most new mom's, teaching a newborn to breastfeed is always a challenge (so I hear!). But teaching a preemie is sooooo much more of a challenge.


See, from birth, Colin had a breathing tube in his mouth, stuck down his throat, 24 hours a day. So the only way he has been fed from day one has been a feeding tube placed down either through his throat or nose (currently it is through his nose, so that his mouth is completely free!).


For some babies, having things in their throat for so long can make them develop an oral aversion. How can we know if he has an oral aversion? Only by trying to teach them how to feed by mouth can we learn if they have an oral aversion. So for now, time will tell with Colin.


Second challenge, being fed with the feeding tube. Up until this point, Colin has received all his food from a feeding tube, on schedule at 12am, 3am, 6am, etc. No work on his part, all he has to do is lie there and wait for his belly to get full.


So now, here is his mom shoving this HUGE "pacifier" (aka, my breast!) into his mouth, and is trying to teach him, "Hey, guess what, your food can come from this thing from now on. Wanna try?". I'm sure Colin is saying, "Yeah right lady, I'll just wait for my belly to fill with the yummy food right on schedule, and maybe if I want, I'll suck on that 'large' pacifier of yours."


And last challenge of all (but it can be a big one), is the fact that he has a disadvantage because of his brain injury because of the brain bleed. While we can't know for sure, he may not have all the neurological resources to be able to quickly understand how the whole process of breastfeeding works, and may not be able to grasp the most important skill of "suck, swallow, breathe".


So how do we overcome these challenges? With EXTREME patience. Because while I'm sure this process is hard for a mom, I feel it is even harder for me knowing that I have these extra hurdles to overcome. Because if he can't master feedings by mouth, then it delays him coming home, or could even mean he would have to get a G-tube (a permanent feeding tube) if we want to take him home. If I could have a shot of alcohol or take a Xanax before our lesson, believe me, I would!


However, I have to say to myself, "be patient, let it flow naturally", while the back of my mind is saying "how soon is now?" These two struggling voices in my head really get on my nerves, you know?


So for the next few weeks, or months, or who knows, if I'm lucky, it could be days, I will constantly try to find myself in a state of zen, trying to teach my son how to feed. And all the while, I will hope we have no other setbacks, like infections, or breathing problems, or vaccine complications. Because like a house of cards, if one falls, it all can fall down. I won't even think about a delayed discharge from the NICU or permanent feeding tubes. 


I'll just play this song and get through each day..........

I need a closet of white dresses.......

I've been thinking about what I was going to write about in this blog post for a few days now. My feelings have been running all over, and at the same time, I have to communicate what is going on with Colin. Let me preface by saying that the bigger picture is that I know things will be ok. My faith is what keeps me going and gives me hope. So I never really "need" encouragement in that area. What I struggle with is getting through the fears and making it out to the other side. I hope that makes sense.


Now, to explain the current situation. As I explained in an earlier post "I wont believe it unless pigs fly" because Colin suffered a brain bleed in the first 3 days of his life, the blockage of blood in his brain ventricles has caused Hydrocephalus, a term for brain fluid buildup. It has been managed up to this point with a Reservoir, and for the most part, it was doing it's job. However, the doctor did explain from the beginning that this was only being considered because he was too small for any other alternative treatment, and most likely this would only be a temporary solution.


Throughout this time, I have been hoping and praying that his little ventricles would somehow absorb the blood that had accumulated there. It wasn't entirely impossible, but it was a long shot. However, after he got his breathing tube out coupled with the fact that he has now reached a larger weight, the Reservoir has not been able to keep up with the fluctuations in brain fluid buildup.


For this reason, his team of doctors decided that he was ready to have a VP shunt placed. What does this mean? Well, first, PLEASE view this short 6 minute video prepared by a doctor at Childrens Hospital Boston that explains what Hydrocephalus is and how a shunt can treat it. He does a GREAT job of explaining the situation.



Here is a picture of what a little baby looks like once the shunt is placed:

I don't know about you, but I get kinda scared when I see this. However, the doctors & staff have kept saying that once he gets bigger his hair can cover the bump and you can hardly see it. They have also stated that once he has the shunt placed, if everything is working correctly, we should see HUGE improvements in Colin as far as eating and breathing. 

So this should all be good news for me, right? Then how come I am literally having a panic attack just thinking about all this? Probably because I see that this could most likely be something that Colin has for his whole life. Plus, shunts can malfunction and not drain the fluid correctly, which would require Colin to go to the hospital for a correction surgery. Or the shunt could get infected, and he would have to have it taken out temporarily then put back in. 

Most cases of kids that I read that have shunts, their parents said that mostly they deal with having a shunt revision, which means their child outgrew the shunt and need it replaced, or they deal with a shunt infection. It is a medical issue that can have great rewards with some tough risks. 

At the same time I was doing my research about shunts, I found out about a possible alternative treatment. Actually, in the video that you just watched above. The doctor in the video begins to talk about this alternative form of treatment at the 4:03 minute mark of the video. It is called ETV/CPC, and is is a treatment that he pioneered as a way to treat children in Africa with Hydrocephalus who can't have shunts because of the maintenance shunts require. 

If Colin could get ETV/CPC surgery AND it worked (and in some cases it doesn't) it would mean this would be a one-time surgery with no shunt placed  that would allow the brain fluid to flow through and be reabsorbed with no buildup. This sounds wonderful to me, but I don't know if Colin is a good candidate for it. In some material that I have read, it usually works better in an older child. 

One of the hard parts of this is that I would like to explore and ask questions about the wide range of possibilities of this condition and surgery with the neurosurgeon. However, his neurosurgeon is the one that gave his negative prediction of Colin's future quality of life (not being able to walk, etc.). How would you feel about talking with someone like this? 

How can one balance being pragmatic vs. being pessimistic? Some of the doctors I have encountered that seem to be the best in their field seem to think they are being pragmatic, yet I feel they are just being pessimistic. How can I continue to balance out their view with my optimism and idealism for Colin's future? 

It's like wearing a white dress and all around you is mud that is bubbling and splattering. I keep trying to go forward keeping my dress white, yet a doctor bubbles and sputters negativity around me, and I am left trying to keep my "optimistic" white dress clean. It is so hard to do!

Overall, I keep trying to remember that in the end, I just want Colin to have the best quality of life that he can. However we can acheive that, I am open to the journey of reaching that goal. Yet sometimes I want to just scream that I need a break. It gets hard being a tough mommy trying to navigate this sea of decisions. 

So every night I start my prayers with all the things I'm thankful for: Rich and his calming sense of direction, the smiles that Colin makes in his sleep, the finished nursery that I pass every day, friends that somehow suprise me with the right thing to say even when I think they won't know what to say. And the panic and fear that I have slowly dissapates and I fall asleep, finally able to wake again in the morning with the strength to face this road again. Sometimes I just wish that I had more than one white dress to wear, you know what I'm saying?.........

2012, you better be good to me!

Well, things have been moving so fast, that I haven't been able to update my blog as much as I would have liked. So I figured that I better get one in before January was over so I could at least have one a month.


As of today, Colin is doing FANTASTIC! He is finally off the breathing tube and is down to just using a nasal cannula. Here is one of my favorite pics taken last week:

So as long as he keeps it up, hopefully in a few weeks he could be off the nasal cannula altogether. Crazy! Since he is now off the nasal cannula, we are now starting to try to teach him how to breastfeed. While breastfeeding in general is hard for mothers of newborns, it is especially precarious when you are a preemie like Colin.


Because he is just now learning to breathe on his own without the breathing tube, we have to be careful that when he takes in breast milk, that he doesn't aspirate (breathe) it into his lungs. Even just a tiny spray of fluid could cause MAJOR lung damage. Of course this terrifies me, and each day that we try, I try to stay calm. At the moment, he hasn't quite remembered how to latch onto me the way he did a few days ago. This could take weeks, if not months. However, I am patient with him, and seeing how far we have come, I am pleased.


As for his medical issues, we are still dealing with them as new information is presented. Preemies are at risk of having ROP, an eye disease that can cause blindness. Here is a great 3 min video about how it is identified and treated:




In Colin's case, we decided to go with a new procedure that puts a medicine in his eye to enable the blood vessels there to develop like they should. As of right now, it seems to have worked, however, he is still showing signs of being on the cusp of it MIGHT returning. Ugh! So for the next 5 months, he has to have a weekly eye exam to make sure it doesn't come back. If it does, then they will give him more of the medicine or perform laser surgery on him.


As for his brain bleed, he still has the reservoir that is in his head and they use it to drain the brain fluid that accumulates. Here is a pic where you can see the reservoir on his left side:

We are still not sure if he is going to get the permanent shunt that can manage this better, but my mommy intuition says we might get this soon. We just need to make sure he is SUPER strong breathing on his own, so that when he recovers from the shunt surgery, he can go back to breathing on his own.


Which brings me to my other "mommy intuition". For some reason, it is telling me that we might be able to bring him home in March. However, no doctor at CHLA has even HINTED as that as a possibility. But I will continue to pray and hope it comes true.


2012 has a lot riding on it. So far it has seen my baby come so far. Look at this contrast from his birthday, 1 month birthday, and 2 month birthday:

I'm so proud of him!

Someday at Christmas.....

I love Stevie Wonder. This is one of my favorite holiday songs by him. While the message is about world peace and things like that, the song has a much smaller, personal message to me. 

I know that someday at Christmas, Colin will not be in an incubator, but happy in my arms at home. 

I know that someday at Christmas, I won't have to travel 8 miles to see my son, but I'll only have to walk a few steps.

I know that someday at Christmas, Colin will not weigh just over 2 pounds, but will be a much heavier, chunky Campbell baby!

I know that someday at Christmas, I won't have to pump my breastmilk to a cold, unfeeling machine, but I can feed it directly to my little boy who will be in my arms. 

I know that someday at Christmas, we will not have to celebrate Christmas in a cold hospital, but in the warmth of our living room with a Christmas tree to look at. 

I know that someday at Christmas, we will be able to send a Christmas card with a family picture, and Colin will be included, right in my arms. 

These are the little things that I dream about that I can't wait to happen next Christmas........

I won't believe it unless pigs fly.....

Today was a hard day for us, but mostly for Colin. Let me start by explaining his brief history. On the 3rd day of Colin's life, he had a serious scare in that his heart rate suddenly dropped. I wrote about it in a prior blog post. After he stabilized, ultrasounds revealed that he had Intraventricular Hemorrhaging that occurred in both the left and right side of his brain, basically bleeding in his brain. Here is a picture of a babies ventricles, and a link to a description of what this is:

IVH description

Why does this happen? Well, preemies are so small, and all their blood vessels are more susceptible to being ruptured, especially when they have low blood oxygen levels (what happened when his heart was stopping). When it does occur, the hope is that the bleed isn't severe enough to cause too much damage to the brain. 

We always knew that this brain bleed would have to be dealt with at some point. Basically, the ventricles are like drain holes in a sink, and once they get clogged, things start to back up. The hope was that the blood that was there would slowly be reabsorbed over time. However, after monitoring it for the past 3 weeks, doctors realized that instead of being reabsorbed, the ventricles were slowly starting to enlarge. This meant that the "sink holes were backing up" and the blood was causing the brain fluid to build up, a term that is called hydrocephalus.

So yesterday when they noticed his head circumference had enlarged, his NICU team referred his ultrasounds to the Neurosurgery department to get their opinion about what should be done. We had hoped that they would give an answer like "oh, this is normal, we'll look at it again in another few weeks", much like they had been saying up until this point. However, they decided that the buildup could not wait any longer. 

Usually with hydrocephalus, doctors put in what is called a shunt, a small tube that is passed from the ventricles and drained into the abdominal cavity. However, Colin is still too little for that, so they decided to put in a Cerebrospinal Fluid Reservoir (or CSF for short). Please click on the link below and scroll down to "Neonatal Reservoir" for a description and pictures:

Neonatal Reservoir (CSF Reservoir, Ventricular Reservoir)

This is what leads me to the "pigs flying" title. After the surgery, the doctor came over to talk with us. He gave the usual details, "surgery went good; things should progress fine from now on", etc. However, when Rich asked him what this meant for Colin's long term outlook, what the doctor said got under my skin. 

He felt that because Colin had extensive brain bleed, the damage it caused was quite severe. He felt that Colin would "most definitely have neurological defects, like not walking, seeing or talking". Now, I'm a realist as much as the next person, but this is the one thing that I really have a problem with. I know that doctors look at "average outcomes" of patients, but I think it is wrong for them to assume that my son will automatically have this fate. 

I have read countless stories so far of other preemies who were diagnosed with Grade 3/4 brain bleeds and who are walking, talking and are lovable little kids! Google it yourself, or see this link: Other preemies with Grade 3/4 brain bleeds

So for now, he doesn't know what Colin is capable of. He can't predict the future. Yes, what Colin faces are real possibilities, but so is the possibility that I might get hit by a bus or win the lottery. Unless it ACTUALLY happens, I am not going to let that determine Colin's outlook. When pigs fly, I'll believe it!

But where does that leave us now? Sad, angry, confused. These are all things that I and Rich are feeling right now. Every day that we build up faith, something comes along and tries to knock it down. Some days are easier than others. But today, all I feel like doing is getting mad. I refuse to let someone else dictate what is not yet written. I am putting it in God's hands, and until then, I have decided that starting from today, I am going to spend the rest of my life helping my little boy find a purpose for his life. I know he was brought here for a reason, and whatever shape his life takes, I can't wait to help him develop that purpose. 

Pigs flying will be our reminder of this purpose. This has been the theme of his nursery to this point. While the drawings haven't been painted yet on his walls by me, they will now. And I will remind Colin every day that until pigs fly, no one can determine the future, not even his.......

The "fight" of his life.......

Victor Griego, aka "Bobby Herman"

For those that don't know, Colin's middle name is Victor. He is named after this man above. This is a picture of my grandfather. He was a boxer in the lightweight division in the 1920's-1930's, until he met my grandma and got married.

I think it is ironic that I choose Colin's middle name after my boxing grandfather. This is exactly what Colin is doing at this point in his life. Fighting, but for totally different reasons. 

I was also reminded of the double entendre of "Victor" when Colin was at Glendale Adventist. It was a few days after his birth, and the pastor who counsels families and prays for them came to Colin's incubator to chat with us. After a few minutes, he offered to say a prayer for Colin with us, and we obliged. 

When he was done, he said "Well, I certainly believe that Colin will live up to his name and be a 'victor' in his struggle". When he said that, I was instantly overcome with peace at that thought. How perfect was the choice of this middle name for him!

As the days have passed, I sometimes struggle to remember this comforting feeling of Colin's middle name. For every few days that are good, they have usually been followed by not so good days. Our recent bad days have been marked by the fact that Colin has developed an infection located in his lungs. 

Even though he is in the NICU, there is no way to prevent infections from happening, no matter how diligent people wash their hands or things around him are sterilized. In his case, the infection was noticed immediately, and antibiotics were started. 

But routine illnesses are tough on the little guy. And when the first antibiotic didn't seem to be working after a day, they had to switch to a different one. The 2nd day with his infection turned out to be a tough one. His heart rate which had been holding steady after his heart surgery at 150 was shooting up as high as 200. His blood pressure was either really low, or really high. And his settings on the ventilator were constantly being adjusted, where a few days before, they were not touched at all. 

It's the hardest thing of all to watch all this going on with your child, and there is NOTHING you can do about it. Well, almost nothing. After the high of being able to hold Colin, the next day they had to switch him to another ventilator, and now I can no longer hold him for awhile. Only touch him.

So at least I found that when I place my hands on his head and legs, after a few minutes, he calms down. This gives me some peace. But otherwise, this fight is between Colin's little body and all the medical challenges he faces. 

So I try and take solace in the fact that he has a strong middle name, and that his blood is descended from a fighter. And I read this wonderful story to him called "On The Night You Were Born", and I hope that somewhere in Colin's mind I am instilling him with the will to fight all these challenges. 

But sometimes I'm reminded of the fact that I need to "fight" too. Fight the despair that takes over my days of confusion. Of trying to find order in waking up, pumping, going to the hospital, pumping, sleeping, and then starting my day again. Of seeing other mothers so happy with their children, and wondering if I will ever be that peaceful myself. 

I am told all the time that I am strong, yet most days, I feel so weak. Weak with no medical degree to understand all the medical terms that I am bombarded with each day. Weak in not knowing why my little boy has suddenly become racked with constant "seizure" like activity. Weak in not knowing how to incorporate my past life of friends, family and most importantly, me. 

Yet again, I have to remind myself that I have my grandfather's blood too. And even if I feel weak, I am still here each day. So I cry when I can, and rest just as much, and always hope that the next time I wake, that I will feel that peaceful feeling that I felt that day with the pastor. Because I want to be a 'victor', just like Colin........