Grandbaby Vincent! (and BIG recent events)

Vincent William Doss

This is long and gritty, but it's where I've been the past few weeks. If you want, just scroll through and look at the sweet, sweet baby pictures! (I wouldn't blame you at all, sugar) But I'm still gonna put it all down, because this blog is a big part of my memory. And there's a lot that I need to get out...

May 11th 2020

I was reading something the other day where a person was talking about the strangeness of the isolation during the Corona virus. She said that, "Time was standing still, while the weeks flew by." It struck me as one of the most accurate ways to describe how I myself have felt these last two months. It seems that we are all just waiting, as though the clock has stopped till an all-clear is called. Then I am shocked when my consciousness awakes and I see the date on the calendar. And this month, oh my. This month has been a doozy.

Thus far, no one that I personally know has become sick. While I am so thankful for that, it causes other people (my husband, for instance) to question the whole validity of the panic. I hear lots of angry grumbling from people who are siting conspiracy theories, and worse. Do I have the answers or know the full truth? No. All I do know is that whatever is going on, I want to do whatever I can to keep my loved ones safe. When I go out, I am masked and carry sanitizer. At one point I went three weeks without grocery shopping, making up things to eat from what I had. (I am very blessed to have freezers full of meat we had butchered.) It also means that while we still had our weekly family dinner, my moma and pop were placed at a separate table. And we eat outside, in the open air. Even when it is raining and so cold that it is not comfortable. But we are together, and we are fed.

(those eyes and little nose- makes me think of E.T. ;)

Then, on the morning of Monday, May 4th, moma called me and said she could not get her breath and felt strange. With a heart rate that could shoot into the 160's, I took her straight to the doctor. He looked at her and said to dial 9-1-1. Is it just me, or would that shock you? I guess I though that only normal, civilian types said that. I thought that a doctor had some sort of red button on his phone, like the President, that he pushed in times of emergency. His order to call put things in stark reality. And my parents had been saying for a month that all they wanted was to NOT go to the hospital while the virus going on.

What does the tattoo over his heart say? Philippians 4:13~ I Can Do All Things Through Christ Who Strengthens Me, in the original Hebrew

The ambulance people were very kind. Moma was terrified to be left alone, and they told me I could buckled into a tiny side seat and ride in the back with her. My moma, she was in danger of a heart attack or stroke, and yet she wanted to know which hospital had the least number of Corona patients so she could go there- ha! Then, halfway to the hospital, encased in that suffocating metal box the EMT said was called "The Bull" because of the way it buckled and jumped, my terrible motion sickness kicked in. And if that wasn't bad enough, my arms and legs went numb from the joints down, and my hand and feet seized up, digits curling. I told the poor lady what was happening, asking if it was perhaps delayed shock. She said, yes, while unhooking a second oxygen mask for me. She handed it to me and I had to hold it to my face with my wrists, because my fingers were splayed and rigid. I had gone to be a support for my poor moma, and I ended up needing assistance instead. I comforted myself with the fact that I certainly took mom's mind off of what was going on with her ;).

A mother's joy

When we finally reached the hospital, the attendant gave me a stern command to stay seated, and in an instant they were gone through the emergency room doors. I, of course, did not obey, but crept to the back, and carefully slithered out. But the doors had locked behind her. So I straggled into the hospital lobby were I had my temperature taken and was given a sticker to show I had been scanned. I asked to go back to be with her, and was told no. It was raining, but I went outside to pace. The man who was the greeter came out to see if I was okay, and asked if he could tell me something. When I agreed, he said, "It's a good thing they won't let you go back. They only let people go back if they think it's near-death. That means your mom is stable." I thanked him for the most good/bad thing I'd heard all day. Then it started to hail. Big as gumdrops. I remember giving a hysterical laugh and saying sarcastically, "Okay, so it's officially the apocalypse."

baby feet are my favorite

At almost eleven that morning I realized I'd had nothing but two cups of coffee, and I was feeling faint. I went to the two concession machines with the intention of getting a bottle of water and some donuts. Both were out of order. There was no water fountain. I went back to the kind greeter man and asked if there were any other machines. He said yes, but they were within the hospital and even he couldn't go there. I must have looked terribly pitiful at that news, because the dear man offered me the very apple from his lunch sack! I wish I knew his name, because he was so very kind.

My baby William greeting his baby Vincent William

I went to ask a report from the lady at the window. She said moma was stable and I should go home, because there was no way I would get to see her. So dad came to get me, and I went home to pace for hours. Unable to settle on any one thing when I knew my place was at the hospital. That evening they moved moma to a room. It would be the first time I hadn't spent the night with her when she was hospitalized. But I was able to make a care packet for moma with fresh underclothes, magazines, scented lotion, her hairbrush, anything I could think she might need. And I picked a big bouquet of peonies. Dad told me she wouldn't be able to have them, but I was going to try anyway. I ended up having to leave the flowers and the bag, which I had stuffed so full it weighed about ten pounds, with the evening greeter, a middle-aged lady. When I realized it would have to sit there in the lobby, I tried to stuff the undies further down into the bag. The woman took it and tucked it under the table, assuring me that, "We are all ladies here." The night moma called to say that the greeter had indeed brought the bag, which she had declared must be full of gold bricks because of the weight, and had even given moma a whiff of the forbidden flowers before they had to be taken away. I think those hospital greeters should be given some gold bars themselves. It's like Mr Rogers said, "Look for the helpers. They are always there on the sidelines."

bonding time

The next day, moma's heart was doing exactly what it was supposed to. A multitude of thanks to all the earthly angels who sent up prayers. And she was doing so well, they switched her to the oral meds. She came through all her tests with flying colors, and on the third day she was home by lunch. Boom. It was over, and it seemed unreal.But, during all this time, my Pop had not been doing well. For a good while he had been sick if he didn't eat. When he did eat. Had terrible stomach pain. Had just felt wrong. So the next Monday he was to go to his doctor, then moma would go to her follow up. 

It just so happens that Monday was also the day that my first grandbaby was to be born. Vincent William had gotten so big that his  tiny moma's tummy just couldn't stretch anymore. He was firmly wedged in the breech position and so they had to schedule a c-section for May 11th at 11:00. At 10:30 I was down on my knees by the bed praying for...praying for everything. The baby, the moma, my son, in the hospital about to have his first child and no one waiting there to talk to, or to run out and give to news to. My mother at her appointment, my father at his...I tell you, folks, I was a mess. I still hadn't let my guard down and cried over all that went on with mom. And I don't know anything about c-sections. At 11:00 I expected the phone to ring and a voice to say, "It's done, and the baby and moma are healthy and perfect." But nothing came. My chest had been hurting all week, and I often found it hard to remember to breath. My husband said it was suppressed anxiety. My answer had been a massive eye-roll.

Don't tell me newborns don't smile! He knew and loved his moma before he was even born

I concentrated on my breathing, and I continued to pray till 11:30. That's when my moma called. Dad wasn't back so she didn't have a car. The nurse had said he was having x-rays and lots of  tests, and the door was closed. I admit the words stomach cancer had danced at the periphery of my brain for some time. But I thrust it away and went to get mom. It was now past noon and I was having all kinds of horrible thoughts about what might have happened at the hospital. Then came a series of amazing pictures of my new grandbaby! Oh the relief!And there was one of Belle holding him- she was okay! Mom and I poured over every photo. Just like that I was a granny. But there were no words. I sent back a message, "Is everything okay?" It fell into a void.

Those long legs- like a little grasshopper!

I managed to drive moma to the doctor, but after a week I still had vertigo and sickness. She said she should have been driving me! The doctor told moma that he was glad to see her again, because he had been scared. When they had tried to find her pulse in the office they couldn't. It was too erratic to even pick up. He was certain if she hadn't been seen at the hospital that day she would have died. The nurse declared her a miracle that helped to restore her faith. I declared her the font of more grey hairs. As we were sitting in the car I got more baby pictures. And the news that Vincent was 7 lb 13 oz and 20 inches long. Again I asked if he was okay. The response was, "We're all great. And he's so hairy all over!" At that, the dam burst and I had to sob and laugh at the same time.

my beautiful daughter  (of my heart)

As we were about to leave the doctor's parking lot, my father came roaring up. It was almost two o'clock and he had not even gotten to hear if the baby had been born yet! I leapt out to show him pictures, and then  he told us that he had a peptic ulcer, and was put on four different kinds of medicine. So much better than stomach cancer!

My first time to hold him,  it was like a dream...my two fine boys

I took mom home and fell over on the bed. I was so tired my bones ached. Everything was okay. EVERYONE was okay. After an entire week of medical emergencies, everyone I loved was doing all right at that moment. But I was a wreck for days.
Moma is doing great on her new medicines. Pop is still feeling sick, but he is taking two high power antibiotics, so that will take a while. Meanwhile, I got to mask up and hold my beautiful grandson the very day they came home. Have I mentioned that my daughter-in-law, Belle, has the sweetest nature and kindest heart? I offered to bring them a big supper of homemade fried chicken with all the fixings and leave it at the door. But, exhausted as she must have been, she welcomed my hubby and I in, saying that seeing us "would make her feel better".

What a girl! I had known the moment I saw pictures of the chubby cheeked little munchkin that my heart was his, but it still felt like a dream till the moment I held him. I am Granny Sam now! After that, when the days went by I could think of baby Vincent and be lifted up like a bubble!

Grandpa Duane. My hubby is baby crazy, so I was lucky to get my turn!

Fast forward to Monday, May 18th. Vincent was one week old, and it was Family Dinner night. Everyone came, and everyone was able to enjoy the newest member to our tribe.

Papa William with great-grandbaby Vincent William

I worked all day preparing a special French inspired meal, with lots of new recipes.

Moma and daddy both keeping a careful eye on Vincent as my moma holds him

It was the first time I had been properly excited about cooking in a while. It just so happens that we would have been in Paris that week. With all that has been going on, it was hard to even let myself think about that. So the meal was a tiny tribute to what we had missed.

My son Seth is so good with kids, and he has hands as big as an infant!

We sat outside and talked until it was dark, and it was just so good. 

Moma may like that baby just a little bit

Vincent is 3 weeks old, and everyone remarks on what a good daddy my son is. It just fills me with wonder! Not because I ever doubted, he has always been so good with the little kids at church. But I can only think of one baby he has ever held before and that was for a few moments. Will had never changed a diaper, or given a bottle. But somehow, as soon Vincent was born, he simply knew exactly what to do. He was changing diapers, comforting, feeding, and patting to sleep while Belle was recovering. She said he was a natural, with no fear. Will's work was gracious enough to let him have two weeks off, and so he got to spend all those formative first days with his new son. Below is a picture that my daughter-in-law sent to me, saying that Vincent had been a fussy little toot with mom all day, but look what happens when daddy comes home...It just fills my heart to see my own baby step into the role of father, and find that it not only fits, but it was a job he was made for!

Those feet! When a hound dog pup has big feet, you know he'll grow into them. What do you think about Vincent??

 Here is where I originally drew up an ending to my post, Dear Reader, and I know you would have sighed in relief. BUT, in the time it took me to write this out and think about proof-reading it, more has happened. Oh yes, more. Last Monday my daughter-in-law, Emiley, told me that she had a "blind-spot"come up in her eye that wouldn't go away. Emiley had her first eye surgeries when she was just a baby, and is legally blind in one eye. I told her to call the doctor immediately. She went in and they found that a large portion of vision was blank. Then a scan of the back of her eyes showed there was immense pressure on the optic cord that connects the eye to the brain. So much so that it was creating a blind spot. The doctor said it was most likely a brain tumor, or a psuedo-tumor sac. Yeah, chew on that for a moment. They sent her home, saying she needed to have her regular doctor refer her to a neurologist. Her doctor saw he,r and said they would send it to the insurance to be sure they would pay, and that she should have a appointment for an MRI sometime the next week. After finding out that their insurance would pay well for an emergency room visit, it was decided that should go there and try to have it done earlier so we would know what we were dealing with. Within two hours she had a CT scan, EKG, and MRI. Yep, she had a lot of the alphabet going on there. The great news was no tumor!! The raised eyebrow was that her brain was swollen with fluid and they didn't know why. They called it Papilledema. It has now been a week and she has still not been scheduled with the neurologist (grrrrr!), so I can't tell you any more. But I take immense comfort in the fact that there was no tumor.

two weeks old, and granny got to watch him while moma went to her check-up

And there you have it, Dear Reader. God is so good. There could have been so much sorrow these past weeks, so much gone wrong, but He made it all turned out for the good. Blessings upon blessings, and I am so thankful. I think that has become my mantra through all the craziness of the past weeks, past months. I say, Today, we are all okay. Right now, at this moment, my loved ones are healthy and safe. I also know, now more than ever, that it can change in a heartbeat, at a phone call, by the moment.

Sweet dreams

So~  Be one of those kind helpers who makes a bad situation better. Tell people you love them. Hold your dear ones close, even if it's through the phone or on video. Pray, be thankful, and, honey-

remember to breathe. 
And if things are really great, laugh a little for me!