Lisa Cruz

How Nick at Night Slows This Momma Down

 

There's a lot of fighting going on in our house. But not the kind of fighting you might be thinking of. Me, my husband and three sons are fighting to hold the newest member of our family, Nikolas Cruz, age 7 weeks. In the morning and in the evening, we are all vying for the coveted position as the "holder."

Born March 10, Nick's birth was eagerly anticipated by everyone, especially after my father's passing the month before (see February blog post). His newborn cries were met with tears of happiness from my husband and I the second he was born. I was overjoyed to welcome him into our lives and I literally felt like my heart would burst with love. As I said to the nurse the following morning after he was born, "It feels like Christmas!"

Now as I ease back into work, I know that at the end of the day I can go home to Nick where all is right with the world. As the "holder" I relish the feeling when he moves his warm little head to nestle it right under my chin. I marvel at his full, creased lips, his dimpled hands and button nose. While I stare at him and feel the warmth of his skin, I also notice how his deep breathing slows my breathing down.

While I am on my toes more than I ever was before with four boys, I've also learned to still my mind and take in the here and now. It's amazing how a teeny, tiny baby can have such a big impact.

 

Life, Death and Somewhere in Between

 

The lessons of life, death and somewhere in between are not lost on me at this moment. As my baby kicks and stretches inside my belly at 34 weeks pregnant, the oxygen mask blows air into my father's lungs.

I always knew this call would come. The one where my dad would reach a certain point in his health care where tough decisions would have to be made. After having suffered a massive heart attack, coupled with a stroke during triple bypass surgery almost nine years to the day, this is the point we are at now. I received the call yesterday morning from my mom saying the nursing home had called and that my dad's pneumonia wasn't getting any better. She told them to have him transported to the hospital.

While he was in the ER and a battery of tests were done, the doctor came in to deliver the bad news. It was pneumonia coupled with congestive heart failure. They decided to admit him and more bad news came our way. It was also determined that he had had another heart attack along with kidney and respitory failure. After the news was delivered I asked the doctors if it was time to notify family members, they said yes. I quickly grabbed my phone and let my fingers do the talking as I texted my siblings including my brother in Australia. My sister and I also began the conversation about talking through next steps with my mom.

My mom and I went to lunch and I brought IT up, "How far do you want to take this mom in terms of life support?" And we had a brief but clear conversation about the choices we were comfortable with. When we got back to my dad's room the doctor also brought it up. He clearly explained that choice would have to be made whether or not to use a breathing tube and he would rather we have this conversation early because when it comes to the Moment, we wouldn't have much time for discussion. Again, we expressed our wishes.

A few hours later I went down to grab a few items from the gift shop and went back up to my Dad's room. The doctors and staff said he was getting worse and now was decision time. We said, "No breathing tube," and said it with as much assuredness as a person can in these types of situations.

And that's what really has struck me about this process. I tend to see things in very black and white scenarios. This is good. This is bad. But this process is really teaching me about gray. Sometimes you have to make the best decision you can with the information and emotions you have.

This is an amazing journey to take with my father. I thank him for all that he has given and taught me over the years and I will pass along these lessons to his 12th grandchild. And maybe, just maybe, these two will meet somewhere in between.

One of those life moments

When I was growing up my parents had the biggest waterbed available to mankind. This king-sized, water-filled bed was a great source of comfort to me as a kid. I remember crawling into bed with my parents and snuggling up as we watched TV. Sometimes when my dad was out of town I'd join my mom for a night's worth of sleep. And in my teens, upon a few heartbreak moments of ending a relationship with the boyfriend du jour, I would wake my mom up from a sound sleep so she could listen to my bedside sobbing and ramblings.

So fast forward to today. My mom had a total knee replacement a few weeks ago. Since her hospital stay she has been residing at a rehab facility where they can help get her up and about again. She has her own room, intense therapy a couple of times a day and many news friends to commiserate with. While her recovery continues to move forward, it's not without a few bumps. For whatever reason, her leg continues to be very swollen and if she's not in therapy, she's now required to remain in bed and rest.

Yesterday morning, my mom was notified that her younger brother had died. Suffice it to say that their relationship is what I would describe as complicated but at the end of the day, he was her little brother. My mom shot me a quick email to let me know about his passing and then I called her. Her sobs pulled on my heartstrings as I was trying to nap in my own bed. As I hung up the phone I heard my dad's words in my head, "Someday when your mom and dad call you and need you, I hope you come running."

Of course I went to see my mom. I walked in and she was talking to her sister. She ended the phone call and we talked about nothing and everything. As 2 p.m. was nearing and this is my "sleepy" time, she offered to move over on her twin bed so I could take a nap. I plunked myself down next to my mom and she continued to talk my ear off as I drifted off for 25 minutes. For those few precious moments there was peace and comfort.

And I know I did my dad proud.