Well our first Christmas without you has come and gone. The actual day was surrounded by family so it wasn't too hard. The morning, however, watching Logan open up all of his gifts, not having to read the labels to decide if they were for you or for him was hard. We brought the stockings up the night before to watch Logan open up his stocking stuffers in bed when he awoke. I thought this was a cute idea until we walked downstairs and I saw your empty stocking still hanging. I will always hang yours for you, but seeing it hanging there so empty is not easy baby. I had to take it down today so I wouldn't keep staring at it. After Logan finished opening his gifts and began playing with them, Daddy and I started talking, wondering what we would have bought for you this year, wondering what you would have been playing with most Christmas morning, and finally wondering how many of Logan's toys you would have broken by now.

We went to visit with you on Christmas Eve. There were so many beautiful decorations set around the baby section. It just doesn't seem right that so many parents have had to bury their babies. So many people have tried to offer comfort in the idea that you're spending Christmas in Heaven this year, but it doesn't help. We are here without you and you are elsewhere without us. It's been said so many times that there is nothing stronger than the love of a mother for her children. This I believe. This is why it doesn't matter where you are - you're not here with me and that cannot be justified or cured by any thought or belief. It just can't.

I just read another story of a little girl who went under the water during her bath for too long. Her mom and dad went through the same highs of hopes and lows of realizations that we did for a week at Loma Linda as well. I wonder if she had the same nurses that you did. That must be the hardest job in the world. I couldn't face that day in and day out - even the ones they save couldn't possibly make up for watching little angels like you fade away. Having to watch the parents walk out of the room for the last time would never get easier. I still see you lying in that bed. I kept imagining you opening your eyes, looking at me and smiling, then crying because you would have hated all those tubes everywhere. I remember lying next to you in that bed, singing your favorite lullaby, and then your hand twitched. I froze, thinking for sure that you heard me. You were reacting to me. You were waking. But then your vitals went crazy and the nurses had to come in and adjust your medication because your body was failing. So many false hopes.

I'm sorry to relive this again sweetheart, it's so hard not to though. This has been such an emotional month, just constantly wondering what you would be doing, how many words you'd be saying by now. It's simply not right that you can't sit here and cuddle under this blanket with me. I want you here. I want you to feel your baby brother kicking and moving around. Guess what else? Ella is going to have puppies soon too. Two pregnant mommies in the same house. It's going to get pretty crowded around here, and the answer is no - Logan has already asked to keep them. Hopefully we'll find homes for all of the puppies before your baby brother comes around. I love you Sawyer. I will come visit you again on New Year's Day. I will bring one of your favorite books and we can talk more about the puppies and how Ella is doing. I love you baby. Forever and always. xoxo

I look at this picture now and think about how lively you were. Always being a goof and making us laugh. I also think about how I'm pretty sure your cheeks are covered in either food or dirt in every picture I've ever posted of you. My boy. I miss you so.

Hi baby. I hope you're looking down on all of the Christmas lights around and smiling. I know how much you loved Christmas time. We finally decorated the inside of the house - haven't gotten around to the outside yet, and not really sure if we're going to. It's hard to get into the Christmas spirit this year. It was even harder pulling out the boxes of Christmas decorations and finding all of your special things. We have your handprint ornament that you made at the Learning Zoo last year hanging from the tree. We also put the teddy bear that Loma Linda Hospital gave to you when you were first admitted on the tree. I remember clinging to that little bear all the way home from the hospital after we kissed you goodbye for the last time. Gosh I wish I could just climb back into that bed with you to run my fingers through your hair, kiss your rosy cheeks, and rub the back of your pudgy little hand. Better yet, I wish I could climb in my own bed and do those things with you. We have your naughty and nice Christmas pictures hanging in the window and your mistle'toes' on the counter. I still remember painting the bottom of your foot to get those perfect mistletoes - you laughed so hard because it tickled. I was so proud of you for waiting for me to finish with your brother's footprint before I could clean your perfect little foot off. I miss your feet. Chunky little flat feet with sausage toes. So perfect.

Tomorrow we're going to take our first official family pictures since you left. It's going to be hard, but I hope we can make it through without any breakdowns in public - I like to save those for behind our four walls. Since there are no fields of dandelions around, we'll have an orange balloon with us to make sure that apart of you makes it into this picture. We're going to go up to Oak Glen, where you used to love running around outside and seeing all the peacocks and reindeer. We won't be going to your favorite spot though - no need for the candy shoppe tomorrow.

Your baby brother is doing well. He's getting big and kicking like crazy. He might even be more active than you - that's a scary thought, isn't it? We just want him to be here already. We need to be able to hug and love him like we did you. We need to be able to look into his eyes and know that in some mysterious way, he is only here because of you. My angel Sawyer. You were such a bruiser, but always so helpful and so giving. Your big brother is doing well too. He's enjoying first grade, but he misses you too. He talks about you often. He decorated your little room Christmas tree for you too. He made sure to put your snowman and train ornament on it, and even gave you some jingle bells. Remember the little horse and buggy decoration that you dropped and broke last year? Well we finally found the horse's head this year. Not that it did any good since we threw it away last year, but at least we answered the mystery as to where it went. It was stuck in one of the other town decorations. We looked forever for it last year. Logan makes sure he kisses your picture and tells you goodnight every time we go up to bed. He even started rubbing your cheek and pretending he's rubbing your hair like Mommy does too. We all miss you. We have your stocking up, but don't know what to put in it this year. I won't be able to look at it empty while the others are full, so Mommy and Daddy will be sure to get you something special. Logan wants to make you a present too.

We love you honey. We all miss you so much. I wish more than anything that you were here this Christmas with us. It just won't be the same. Daddy has to work Christmas Eve this year too, so if you could come visit me I would love that. I don't want to be lonely that night. It'll be hard as it is. I know that this is going to be one of the bigger challenges that we have had to face since you've gone, so help Mommy, okay? You were always my big helper, and I know I asked so much of you that final week in the hospital, but I'm going to ask for your help again. Come tell me Merry Christmas and that you love me. Please, baby. I love you. So much. Merry Christmas Sawyer. My sweet baby.

Hi baby,

I haven't written in awhile. Things have been crazy at work and home. Busy is good. Busy doesn't give us too much time to think or cry. You would like the new kitchen, it's very pretty, but you would hate the new fridge. It'd be so hard for you to get inside and take out all the snacks you used to. You'd also be disappointed in the back yard. Since you've left we hardly ever go out there. Logan doesn't play much outside anymore. I think he gets lonely and just wants to stay next to Mommy and Daddy. Your puppies have taken over and started digging everywhere too! I need your help to tell them, "No! Bad daw!" Daddy needs help picking up all the poop too. You were the best at pointing it out, making sure we got all of the piles. I went out and picked it up the other day, and there were about 7 dandelions out there, wishing you were here to pluck them up and shake them out. Logan took care of a couple of them.

We're coming up on our third holiday without you here. I don't think Thanksgiving will be as hard as 4th of July or Halloween were since you never really liked turkey, or sitting down to formal dinners (or sitting down ever). I do have a little turkey decoration that I will bring to your beautiful stone next Wednesday though. I'll read you a Thanksgiving story too - and hopefully I can do a better job at getting the whole story out than I did last time. We're still waiting for it to get easier.  It's been almost six months, half a year, already, and it feels like it. It's been so long since I've held you. We keep moving on with our daily lives - waking up, getting ready, going to work, and every step in between. I pass by your pre-school everyday and wish I was one of those cars in the parking lot, dropping you off with your toast and smoothie. That always makes the drive to work so hard. One of these days soon I will be in that parking lot again, but it won't be the same. I wish you could see how big Mommy's belly is getting. Logan and Daddy are starting to be able to see and feel your baby brother moving and kicking around. I know you would have loved to snuggle next to me with your hand on my belly. I can just see your big blue eyes going wide when you'd feel him kick. I wish I could see you as a big brother. You'd be perfect. We still haven't decided what your baby brother's first name will be, but Sawyer will definitely be his middle name. He will have just that small piece of you. We are getting more anxious to welcome this little guy into our lives, no matter how scared we are. Now that I'm starting to show though, so many tough questions come our way. "Is this your first?" No it's our third. "Oh wow, boys or girls?" All three boys. "Wow that's a challenge. Were you trying for a girl?" No...but I can't tell them why. "How old are your others?" And then I'm stuck...6 and 2, or 6 and he should be 3, but he never made his third birthday? It's so hard answering questions about you. I can talk to people I know about you all day long (and I often do), but whenever a stranger asks, I just freeze. I feel like I'm lying no matter what I say. Someone actually said the other day, "Woa two boys wasn't enough?" And though he was joking, I wanted to say, "Yes! My two boys were perfect. I was completely content with two boys. We never had plans for another, but things were changed. Horrible things happened and there's nothing we can do about it." But of course I just ended up giving my fake laugh that I've grown so accustomed to. I'm sorry baby. I never imagined we'd ever have to go through anything like this.

I don't have much more to say. I just want you to know that you continue to be on my mind, every day, every night. I miss you as much today as I did the first day you were gone. I want you to come visit me at night again. I love hearing your voice and seeing your face. I love seeing your smiles in my dreams because it's so hard for me to picture you anywhere but that stupid pool when I'm awake. That will always haunt me, and though everyone wishes we would stop blaming ourselves, we just can't. I'm so sorry baby. We let you down and we'll never forgive ourselves for it. I miss you and love you so much. So much Sawyer. I love you to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond, forever and always. <3 <3 <3

Some more of my favorites...

Well, we had a pretty good week, which usually means we're looking at a tough week coming up, but maybe we'll get lucky. I've shed a few tears either to or from work every day this last week, but I was able to stay in a good mood throughout the days and nights. I've been thinking about the new baby a lot. I think he's gonna be another active boy as he's already kicking a ton. We had our second trimester ultrasound and he was being difficult for the technician, so I'm already looking forward to meeting this little firecracker. I keep asking for him to have some pieces of Sawyer (mostly physical), but so far it's looking like we're going to have another "all boy" boy on our hands. We are looking forward to some noise around here. I think Matt is getting his athlete.

I finally had another dream with Sawyer the other night. He shows up in dreams often, but it's as if nothing is different, he's just there. I look forward to the dreams where I'm partly conscious that things have changed, so I always grab him and hold him because that's all I want to do. In this last one, he popped up from behind something and started wiggling his fingers at me, trying to be scary (maybe Halloween is on my mind), but he had this huge smile on his face that was anything but frightening. That smile warmed my heart so much. I picked him up and all he said was "I love you Mommy" over and over again. It wasn't in the deep voice he usually says it in, but it was so clear. I remember trying to record it on my phone in the dream, because I wish I could hear those words again. So badly. I'm so thankful that his teacher, Jennifer, sent me a few recordings of him. In one he is saying "I love you," and in the other he is listening for me at the door and says, "Mommy." So I listen to and watch those two videos consecutively every single morning. It starts my day off with me able to hear "I love you Mommy" from my baby.

We made it past the first holiday that he loved, "fireworks day," less than a month after his death, but I know next Friday is going to be even more rough. We had such a great Halloween last year. Sawyer would never stay by our side, so we were extremely nervous walking through crowds of kids on dark streets that night. He surprised us all though. He stayed right next to Logan and his cousin Abby, walking house to house with his little Scooby Doo mask and treat bag. He did try to eat every piece of candy after each house, but he was so good. The next two months, between Halloween, Thanksgiving, and of course, Christmas, are going to be the 2nd toughest months of our lives. It will only help that we'll be surrounded by friends and family most of the time. So to those of you still following our story, and still keeping us in your prayers, please pray for two things: that this baby continues to grow into a happy, healthy little boy; and that we can survive these next few months.

I haven't gotten back to the praying point yet. While every piece of me wants to believe and have faith, I'm just not there yet. I want to believe because it hurts so bad thinking that I'll never see my Sawyer again, but we did believe. We believed in God and his miracles before. Sawyer did not get his breath back at the house so we thought the worst, but in the ambulance they got his heart beating again. We had hope. He then went into cardiac arrest twice that night, so again we thought it was the end. But he survived. For a week this went on. He failed, fought back, and each time gave us the hope that he would pull through. Each time we prayed harder and harder and thanked God for giving us another day, another chance. I thanked God when I got to lie by his side in the hospital bed and sing his favorite lullaby to him. I thanked God when we were able to give him a sponge bath and wash his hair so I could run my fingers through it again. Matt and I went to church the morning before his official CT scan was done and bawled our eyes out in front of God, asking, praying, pleading, begging, promising. We did it all. And in the end, all was silent. We buried our baby boy in a casket too small for this world, in a ground too cold and still for our Bam Bam. So believing that "he's in a better place" is not a possibility. In my arms, in my bed, was his favorite place. Believing that "this is part of God's plan," is honestly just cruel. And finally, believing that "this new baby is a miracle," just isn't the truth. The real miracle would be if this new baby got to know his amazing big brother. The real miracle would be if Sawyer grabbed onto that ladder and pulled himself up; if I would have taken out the stupid ladder in the first place; if one of the dogs barked; if Logan wanted to swim too; if, if, if. So many real miracles that could have happened instead of this "plan." And I know people say these things to give us hope, and frankly, there's nothing else to say, but I think I've reached the anger part of my grieving. I just want him back. Here. On this Earth. To live the life he would have loved. To grow up, get married, and have kids of his own. To kiss me goodnight. To say I love you Mommy.

I Love You video link:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/y2u55rtxsgbycb6/Sawyer%20I%20Love%20You.mkv?dl=0

 

We went to visit Sawyer today. His head stone is finally in - it really is ridiculous how long he sat there just a pile of dirt, overgrown with sprouts of grass and weeds. Made me sad to see it always so lifeless. There are headstones there in the baby section completely covered over with dirt. It's just not right. I completely understand a parent's belief that the cemetery is just a place for bones, that it's not really where our babies lie, but it's still just so sad to see stones left to be covered by dust and dirt. I don't really know what I actually expect, it just makes me sad. I was glad to see my baby's face finally above his precious little bones. I just hope life never gets too busy for us to keep alive that beautiful smile on that little rectangular rock.

Seeing parts of the baby cemetery that looked so lifeless, just reminded me of how much life Sawyer had. Not just how much he had left to live, but how much he enjoyed living. He was so full of energy. He just wanted to go swimming. It was his favorite thing. Every morning he would wake up and be so excited to put on his trunks. We had been swimming all morning. I still remember him eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with his floaties on, then finally coming up to me after lunch, holding his arms out, saying, "Off pees." I leaned down, took them off, and set them on the family room floor, not realizing that such a simple action would have such eternal consequences. I don't understand why I can't have that moment back. I just want to make things right, to put his floaties out by the pool where he knew to grab them and ask for help putting them on, where I would have seen the ladder and known that if floaties are off I need to take out the ladder. Fifteen steps to the backyard, and instead I put them down on the family room floor. Four adults in the house, and that precious little blonde boy just wanted to go swimming. It's so hard not going over all of these memories, every day.

I cleaned out his dresser yesterday. Matt and I set up the crib, and we've already gotten a few gifts of clothes for the new baby, so I decided that while I was in a good mood and on a roll setting up for the baby, it would be a good time to open Sawyer's drawers. I opened them once to take out the shirts I wanted for his quilt, and that's the last time they've been opened in the last four months. I did fine until I got to his jammies. It reminded me of the many fights that were had just trying to get that kid into some pants. He never fought putting on his jammy shirts, but he loved to be in undies or pull-ups when going to bed. Such a defiant, strong personality. He won nearly every battle, partly because he had more will power than me, and partly because he was spoiled and I love him more than anything. Moms have that tendency to choose to lose a battle when they know it makes their baby happy. What I wouldn't do to fight those chubby little legs into and out of his pants again.

I hate this roller coaster we live on. There have been many happy moments since after June 9, but each moment still has that veil of misery. Not a day goes by that Sawyer isn't on our minds, but I can now go a whole week without shedding tears, and then it seems that I just can't even think of him without breaking down. So tough this new life we have. Good days, bad days, great days, but always something missing. My baby missing. Missing out on the life he loved so much. He just wanted to go swimming.

Had this poem placed in my box today: 

My mom is a survivor,
or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying,
when all the others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands upon a beach that never wash away,
I watch over my surviving mom who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others, a smile of disguise.
But through Heaven's open door,
I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with my death, to keep my memory alive.
But anyone that knows her, knows it's her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom through Heaven's open door,
I try to tell her that angels protect me now and forevermore.
I know that doesn't help her, or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, call to her and show her that you care.
For no matter what emotion she may feel,
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal.

I could have written this myself. It tears me down and brings me to such deep sobs, so true. This has been a hard week. Our babysitter and the boys' teacher, Jennifer, sent me pictures of Sawyer the other day. Not great pictures, but pictures that show him helping to clean up the daycare. That's what he was - a helper. He always picked up toys, took out the trash, fed the animals. Always a pistol, but such a blessing as well. She then sent me a video where he shushes everyone and then listens for the door to the daycare and says, "Mommy!" I miss that sound so much it hurts. I just want my baby back. I know it's not right, or even possible, but sometimes I wish we would've just kept him in the hospital so I could just hold him and kiss him. Near the end they transferred him to a bed so I could like down with him. I want to be there again - lying in that bed, rubbing one hand through his hair and the other over his pudgy little hands, singing to him...I want it back.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird,
And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring,
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass,
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat,
And if that billy goat runs away,
Mama's gonna love you anyway."
My mom sang it to me when I was young and I sang it to the boys all the time. I can't sing it to Logan anymore without crying.

When we first found out that we were expecting, Logan was at the doctor's with us. We didn't think he was paying much attention, but when we left, he asked if the baby the doctor was talking about was in my belly. A little later that afternoon he asked, "Mommy, is the baby gonna die too?" Broke my heart all over again. A few weeks ago we were leaving Chili's and after I put Logan in the car, I went to shut his door, and he said, "No!" He was watching two little kids play on the grass. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "Nothing. I just like watching brothers and sisters play together. They're lucky to have a brother and sister." He is so thoughtful, sentimental, sweet, and also broken-hearted. He's handling everything so much better than Matt and I, but we still know that he hurts inside too. He misses his bossy baby brother as much as we do.

Sawyer, you are so loved. You are so missed. I want you back. Please, come hold my hand at night. Wipe mommy's tears away and kiss me on the cheek. Let me know that you're here watching over your surviving mommy. I haven't had a dream of you in such a long time. I need to pick you up, see your beautiful eyes, have you hug my neck, and let you know I love you. Face to face. Come visit me. I miss you baby.

We've been holding off on announcing it, not quite ready to celebrate anything, especially another baby, but we are pregnant. We're expecting another baby boy on March 19.

There's so many mixed feelings going on between us. I was completely against having another baby. Our hands were full with our two boys, and honestly, I'm not the happiest pregnant person ever. Yet all that changed in the blink of an eye. Matt said to me on the night we said our final goodbyes to Sawyer that he wasn't ready to not hear "Daddy" anymore; not ready to not have a little guy toddling around his feet; not ready to be done with all things baby. And with those words we decided to start trying again. Little did we know, we were somehow already pregnant. The world works in mysterious ways, and this one is definitely a mystery to us. We're happy though. It's taken me up until yesterday to actually be excited at the thought of a baby though. I couldn't shake the thought of just not being deserving of another try. We failed Sawyer, why should we be given the chance to put another life in our hands? We are so scared. Babies are so fragile, and we're just so frightened to mess up again. And while we're still scared of that thought, I do need a baby. Logan needs a brother, seven year difference or not. People would ask if we wanted a girl or a boy and Matt would immediately reply, "Boy." I didn't have a preference at all - probably because I still wasn't really ready for another chance. However, yesterday we had our first trimester ultrasound where the sex was visible. I didn't know how badly I wanted a boy until she said that's what we're having. Matt is thrilled and so am I. For Matt, Sawyer was his athlete. He was rough and tough and eager to please. He loved baseball, he loved basketball. He loved sports. Matt wants that back. For me, I don't really know what it is. I keep hoping and hoping that this new little life will have a piece of Sawyer. I think that must be why it was important to me to have a boy. I know he won't be Sawyer, but if he could just have those big blue eyes, or that straight white hair, or those big mommy teeth, then I would have my piece of Sawyer. I just need a piece of him that I can hold onto. A piece that I can see, feel, hold. I miss him so much. He seems so far away. He really is just memories and stories now, and it's just not right. Nothing feels right about it.

Logan is helping me to get excited about this new baby though. He sits next to me with his hand on my belly (which is already ridiculously large by the way), and constantly gives us name suggestions. So far his number one choice is "cutie." We may be overruling that. Either way, here we are, starting again from the beginning it seems. Strollers, carseats, bottles, diapers - everything we thought we were done with. Bittersweet. I finally understand the truth behind that word.

We had a really good weekend. We took Logan to Universal Studios on Saturday (which I still can't believe we paid Disneyland prices for), but Logan and I had never been there, so it was fun. Normally going places that we know Sawyer would love hurts, but it was a good experience Saturday. Maybe the fact that we hadn't ever gone there with Sawyer was part of it, who knows? Logan had a great time and faced some of his fears (which is pretty much anything with fast movement), and Matt and I enjoyed getting out and walking. On Sunday we just stayed home and did some much needed yard work. Logan had his buddy Shane come over to play for the day. When they were upstairs changing into swim trunks to run through the splash zone we built, I overheard Shane tell Logan, "You're my bestest buddy." That made me smile. Sunday night we had a great dinner with Matt's sister's family and then went to enjoy the last Concert in the Park of the season. All in all, a great weekend.

Then Monday rolled around. I really am enjoying work. I have a great group of kids and I'm doing a lot of after-school clubs and sports to keep me busy. Yet every time I pass Sawyer's school and see the other parents' cars, who I used to say hi to every morning, it just hits me again. So I cry nearly everyday to work, but then I walk into my classroom and I'm okay. Today though, during my prep period, I sat down to copy the school's master calendar events onto my own. Everything was fine until I got to June. I just started thinking about the start of summer vacation last June, and how perfect everything was. Every morning the boys would wake me up and immediately get changed into their swim trunks. They would swim all day long, and I would love watching them. It was really one of the only things they did together without fighting. Even when I would let them sneak into our bed at night, they would fight over who gets to sleep closest to Mommy. Sawyer would body slam Logan to get in between us, so I'd get stuck sandwiched in between the two until Matt got home from work to help me out. I don't ever regret having the pool. Sawyer loved swimming more than anything. I just regret everything else that day. Literally, everything. Every tiny little event that morning could've saved my baby. It's so frustrating to think about. So just sitting at work, thinking about how perfect everything was, and then remembering how short a time it lasted just brought me to tears again. Of course my poor Assistant Principal walked in as I was bawling, but he was right on cue with his "hilarious" jokes.

So life goes on. Some days definitely better than others, and those are the days we look forward to. Still missing you, still loving you, still wanting you back. Forever and always my baby you'll be.

Me: "You don't think you'll ever forget Sawyer, do you?"
Logan: "No, never. Besides we can't. When someone is in your heart, you never forget them. If you think you forgot about them, you didn't, you're just not thinking about them. You can't ever forget."

Such wise words from such a small boy. He keeps us going strong.

I haven't written in a while. It seems like I have nothing new to say. Work is in full swing now and other than being exhausted by the time I get home, it's nice to have some routine back in our lives. It's good for us to have something else to think about as well. I haven't had any students ask me about "the boys" yet, or comment on the pictures I have of both boys, though I only said I have my husband and beautiful son Logan at home. His pictures still catch my breath. I had to go to the cemetery yesterday to pay for the setting of Sawyer's little stone (which, on a side note, the funeral business is ridiculous when it comes to expenses). I visited with him for a while, and just ran my fingers through the grass, imagining it was his perfect golden hair. I told him the things I always do, but this time I asked him to come visit me at night more often. It's so hard to wake up from those dreams, but I still love them. I love being able to hold him, kiss him, tell him I love him. While life seems to be moving on, it still seems so unreal. I still can't believe this has happened to us, to him. It's just not fair to him. He loved life. I still can't stop myself from running through that day's events, noting each and every thing that we could have done differently, every little thing that could have changed this horrible after June 9 life we're living. I am only thankful that Logan is so strong. He is doing so well, absolutely loving first grade at his new school. He came home yesterday and said, "Mommy, today was the best day at school ever! We did so much plus-ing and minus-ing!" To each his own, right? I'm so proud of him. He still talks about Sawyer all the time, recalling on memories of him, and making sure that Heaven has bananas, because Sawyer loves them.

Well I received the letter I have been both dreading and looking forward to. Today it came from One Legacy, the organ donation company:

"As it was discussed at the hospital, even with all the tests we performed prior to the surgical recovery of the organs, the visualization and biopsy of organs during surgery are the final determinations as to whether the organ will be suitable for transplantation. Unfortunately, we were unable to transplant one of Sawyer's liver segments. We were, however, able to transplant Sawyer's second liver segment, both kidneys, and heart.

Sawyer's second liver segment was transplanted into a baby in California. With this gift of life, everyone is hopeful this baby girl will have a return to good health.

A California woman in her 40s is the recipient of Sawyer's right kidney. She is married, and the mother of two. The transplant center tells us her kidney function is good and she is now free from dialysis treatment.

The recipient of Sawyer's left kidney is another woman in her 40s in California. She volunteers for her church and enjoys singing. We are told her kidney is recovering well and she no longer needs dialysis after receiving treatment for over five years.

Sawyer's heart was transplanted into a child. The transplant took place in Colorado. With the transplant, everyone is hopeful this little boy will have a new healthy life."

Is it selfish to be sad that all organs didn't go to babies? I really want to see the little boy who lives on with Sawyer's heart too. Just a picture. As much as I want to know more, every time I'm reminded of what happened to Sawyer, the wound reopens.

I miss you baby. Please come and visit me tonight. I love you.

Well the first day of work has come and gone. I managed to hold it together just long enough for the presenter at our professional development training to show about 15 pictures and tell 23 stories of her beautiful, healthy, happy grandchildren...of which 9 of them are adorable little boys. She told a story about one of them having a learning disorder and the teacher telling the child that something is just wrong with his brain. So the child asks his grandma, "Do you think that when I'm sweating it's my brain crying?" That's when I lost it. I had to step out of the MPR for a few minutes to let myself go. Note to self - don't wear gray t-shirts anymore, my teardrops looked like I drooled all over myself. I do live in a great community and have a great support system at school, for which I am so grateful though. I have a great roster this year and a good schedule, so I think getting myself back into some kind of routine will be helpful. Plus, we just found out that Logan's good friend is in his first grade class with him. He definitely needs some time with friends, and to have the chance to focus on learning new things. Matt will also return to work on Monday.

 

So this new existence of "normal" life is beginning. Matt will take Logan to school for his first day of first grade (sometimes it stinks being a teacher, missing these little moments), and though I'm sad I won't be there to see him off, it will only remind me that we only have one little guy to drop off every morning from now on. We will leave our home, drive down to Logan's school, then drive by the preschool where Sawyer should be heading back to each and every morning. We're sad, devastated, depressed, but mostly, still so angry about it all. Why? Why our little boy? We were just swimming that morning, having a great time. He had his floaties on all morning and all throughout lunch. Why did we have to take them off out on the deck and not by the pool? Why did I not think about the ladder still being in the pool? Why did we not notice that he'd been out of site for so long? Why couldn't he have pushed off the bottom and taken a breath? Grab the ladder? Grab one of the noodles still floating in the pool? Why? Why? Why? I will never understand this. I will never believe that "things happen for a reason." I will never think that Heaven is a better place for him than my arms. I will never. I will never so many things, but most of all, I will never be the same. Our family will never be the same.

 

I have watched this video a million times. Every time I can only think that we were scheduled for swimming lesson in just a week. One more week.

Where has this summer gone? We had so many great summer vacation plans that just weren't able to happen. Right now we're in Colorado, visiting my sisters and attending our friends' wedding. For the first time since Sawyer's funeral we've had to leave Logan. He's at my sister's house, playing and having fun with cousins, while we're attending the wedding about 3.5 hours south. The first night away he called crying, saying that he wanted to be with us. We really almost hopped back in the car to drive the hours to go pick him up. He is still sleeping in our bed, mashed between Matt and I, each night. So this is the first time he hasn't been able to fall asleep with one of us rubbing his face or singing to him since Sawyer. It's hard for all three of us to not have him here. He did better last night though, so one more night away and then we'll be making the trip back to him. It's kind of funny, we try so hard as parents to keep our children out of our bed and in their own (which I admit, I was never very good at), but these last weeks, almost months now, we've wanted Logan by our side every second.

Gosh I can't believe it's been almost two months since that horrible day. I have dreams of him almost every night. In the last one, I was walking around his preschool playground, looking at all of the kids and knowing that I wouldn't find be able to Sawyer among them. Then I see a little boy, with perfectly straight white-blonde hair sitting with his back to me, playing with the same yellow truck that Logan tucked into Sawyer's casket with him. I stopped walking and just stared at this little boy, knowing that it couldn't be my Bam Bam, and then he turned his head to look at me and it was my baby. He got up and ran to me, saying "Mommy!" just like he used to do when I'd pick him up from preschool. I grabbed him and just held him, swinging him back and forth in my arms, forever. He never once tried to wiggle his way out of my arms and back down to the ground so he could run and grab his backpack and open the preschool door like he always had to. He was content in my arms, and I wouldn't have let him go for anything. But then I had to wake up. I always seem to have to wake up, no matter how happy I am in my dreams. I used to hate the nights, knowing that as soon as all movement and sound stopped, I'd be filled with visions of the day. Visions of what he was thinking, feeling, trying to say...nightmare visions. But now, I am able to close my eyes and know that he'll visit me in my dreams. Even though I'm usually conscious that he's gone in the dream, he is always there, alive and well and happy as always.

Happy as always. He was a pistol, but such a happy boy. He was so easy to please. What makes certain days harder than most are the days where we do things with Logan that I know Sawyer would just love. We took Logan on a gondola ride up in Breckenridge which Sawyer would have loved. He would have loved the giant bungee trampoline at the top that Logan bounced on. And yes, we would have paid another ridiculous $16 fee for a 5 minute bounce for him too. We went to Water World the other day. That was the hardest of all, because we all know his love for water play. Logan was scared to go on nearly every ride, but I could only imagine Sawyer dragging us from ride to ride, always wanting more excitement, more adventure, more fun. He was so fun, so happy, so perfect. We're still waiting for the days to get easier, but I am at least feeling somewhat content that my nights aren't filled with grief, anxiety, and fear anymore. I get to see him, happy, smiling, alive, in my dreams.

I love you to the moon and back baby. To infinity and beyond. Forever and Always.

Taking out the trash...
The color orange...
The movie Frozen and all of its songs...
Powdered donuts...
Pop-Tarts...
Shopping carts with steering wheels...
The yellow curb bumps outside of grocery stores...
Blow drying my hair...
Sand boxes...
The beach...
Blonde hair...
Scooby-Doo...
Little boys...
Driving by his preschool...
Brushing teeth (because he hated it)...
Dandelions...
Every.Single.Night.

All of these everyday things puts his image so strongly in our minds. I didn't cry a lot the first week of the accident, and even the few days after we held him and kissed him goodbye for the last time my eyes were somewhat dry. It's only now, weeks after that I find my emotions hard to control. His face is everywhere and in everything, though it seems like he was never here. We can't remember what it feels like to hold him. We can't hear his voice anymore. We have only memories - I remember the way he had to hold my hand at night at the perfect angle so I could rub my thumb back and forth over his fingers. I remember the way he would grab my face and give me awkwardly long, hard kisses until I laughed so hard he had to back up. I remember the way he would rub his face against Matt's and say "Ooooowwww" whether or not Matt was clean shaven. I remember the way he would fight Logan, but then follow him around and copy everything he said. So many memories, and yet nothing is concrete, tangible, none of it seems real anymore. We have no baby boy to touch, to hold, to swing around. Logan turned six on Friday and we realized just how big he is now. He has changed since Sawyer's death too. He's become more mature somehow and it makes us sad. Logan had an amazing time at his birthday party yesterday, but it was so hard to watch all of the kids running around without Sawyer. He would have loved everything - the face painting, the balloon animals, the cotton candy, popcorn, and snow cones, the bounce house, the kids playing in the sandbox, opening up all the presents. I just wish that if he had to be taken, he could have at least had this last experience. We should have been able to celebrate him yesterday too. His name was so clearly absent from the Happy Birthday song. We took the first family picture without him, and it's so empty, so wrong. We had one orange balloon there for him, and I wore my Remembering Sawyer shirt, but it's clearly not the same. Nothing is the same. We're still expecting it to get easier. One of these days it has to.

Still missing you. Still loving you. Still wanting you back.

July 10, 2014:

My baby should be three today. He should have snuck into our room this morning, stood right next to our bed, breathed his baby boy morning breath on my face for at least a good 30 seconds before he patted my leg, "Mommy. Mommy." Pause as I continue to pretend to still be sleeping, then the patting turns to shaking, "Mommy. Mommy." I should have popped my eyes open and planted a big kiss on him, scaring him enough to make him scream and wake the rest of the house. Should have. Instead we awoke to a quiet house again. Instead we awoke to his pictures on the wall, not to his face next to mine.

Yesterday was the one month marker from the day of the accident. I thought things were supposed to get easier. Time is supposed to heal. These wounds seem as fresh as the dirt on his tiny grave. He lies next to Allyson Grace Franklin, who was only a day old. Sawyer was always so good with babies. He loved nurturing them, which I know, shocks everyone. Bam Bam did actually have a soft side. And it was wonderful. At school he always wanted to help feed the babies their bottles, so I hope that he is helping to take care of little Allyson in Heaven.

Sawyer was definitely independent, but he loved to help. One of his favorite things to do was to help take the trash down to the street. As odd as it seems to think of him while taking out the trash, I don't think a week will go by that trash day doesn't remind us of him. I have mentioned before that our only regret in life will be those few minutes where we didn't realize that Sawyer wasn't with us, but that's not true. So many regrets. I regret not giving him the opportunity to play baseball. He was going to be amazing. We all thought he was going to be a lefty too. He would've given us so much trouble in school with his little rebellious attitude. Though we always used to imagine that sometime during his school days, he would meet a girl who would bring out his loving, sensitive side, and gone would be our Bam Bam. He would simply be our Sawyer, our handsome Sawyer. Gosh he was handsome. I'm sorry that I'll never get to see what a heartbreaker he would have grown up to be. So sorry that I'll never get to meet his first girlfriend, never come to know his best friends, never hug his new wife or have a mother-son dance at his wedding. I'll never even get to teach him to tie his shoelaces. So many regrets, too many nevers. I can already hear my family members saying, "Think of the great things you did do with him. Think of the fun vacations he had, and all of the love that he knew he had." And we try. We really do, but as said before, whenever we try to think of Sawyer before June 9, June 9 forces its way in and takes over.

Our lives exist only of before and after June 9.

Do we have hope that we will heal and only think of wonderful memories of Sawyer someday? Sure. Someday. His third birthday, however, is not that day yet. Thank you Learning Zoo for celebrating him at school today. He would've loved the cupcakes and the party hat. He would have loved the attention. Happy Birthday baby. Mommy, Daddy, and Logan love you so much.

A simple post tonight...

Matt and I are struggling with the "If there is a God up there, how could he not answer the thousands of prayers sent to him? How could he take such an amazing baby boy away from this family who is not supposed to be a family of three? How? Why? Who would be so cruel?"

Then my sister Heidi, who is not religious at all, said to me, "I know this is testing your faith, but I think that if something like this were to happen to me, it would make me more faithful. I would want nothing more than the hope of being able to see my child again one day."

She makes a good point...

This was taken less than 24 hours before the accident. God he loved water.

Link: A Moment in Time with My Baby

July 5th....
Almost an entire month since the accident...
The day after one of my baby's favorite holidays...
Just 5 days until he would be three years old...
Two weeks until the circus birthday party that he will not be apart of...


This is what days are now. Every day, every date, every hour are compared to that day. Our lives have become a before June 9 and an after June 9. We get up, we get ready, we get out of the house. These walls are too quiet. We are waking up to the sun, not to my son. We awake and are immediately aware of the silence. Sometimes we just lie there and stare at the pictures of him that hang on our walls. Sometimes we silently cry so as not to awake one another. Other times we roll over and immediately wake Logan up (yes he's now in our bed every night and we don't mind) just to hear noise.

I've decided that I need to write on this blog again, because it's less painful than thinking. Of all the memories that I have of Sawyer, I can only think of one: Me saying, "Where's Sawyer?" just before I looked in the pool. I remember him...like that. I remember yelling "No! No! Help me! Help me!" because I couldn't reach him over the side. I remember Matt hopping up and over the side to grab him. I remember him lying in the grass, so blue, with Matt trying to revive him. I remember running barefoot down the dirt road trying to catch the fire truck as they passed by our mislabeled street. I remember the paramedic running back down the driveway with Sawyer in his arms, his poor little limp arms flailing behind. And that's where it ends. That's where my memories end and where the loop starts over and over again. The only other thoughts that enter my brain are nightmares. How long did he struggle? How long did he look up, waiting for Mommy and Daddy to come save him? Was he scared? Was he trying to scream? Was he afraid that we would be mad that he went in without his floaties like he knew he wasn't allowed to? God I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry baby. You should have never been scared like that. We should have been there.

We're still receiving cards and flowers. We're being asked daily, "How are you doing?" We can go places, we can smile, we can laugh, we can function. But it's so empty. I realized yesterday that going to the store is so easy now. I'm not constantly trying to keep sticky little fingers from grabbing things, from opening the food in the cart, from running amuck. Easy is not better. I would give anything to feel that frustration again, to feel that anger again, to feel that muffled laughter as he gave me his "you can't be mad at me too long" smile, to feel him. God I want to hold him. I want to run my fingers through his hair again. I want him back. more. than. anything.

We have spent these last weeks either working on the backyard or going anywhere and everywhere, just to stay out of this silent home. Logan has been spoiled rotten lately. I thought that I would have complete and utter patience with him, after all, he is grieving in his own way as well. I'm finding, however, that my patience is short. He is in constant need of attention, and the second that I find myself wanting to tell him to hush, I feel the guilt. Of course he needs Mom and Dad to give him attention - his little buddy is gone. He has no one to play with but us. Thank God for Logan and his need. Without him I really don't know where we'd be. Matt and I are stronger than ever though. We're able to talk about things together, we're able to cry about things together, we're able to hope for things together. We are together and even though a huge piece of us is missing, we still love. We are angry, but we still love.

What has made these last few weeks the hardest is planning the birthday party. Sawyer is July 10, Logan is July 18, and Sawyer's cousin Abby is July 21. We are having a circus themed birthday party. We ordered a popcorn maker and my eyes welled up watching the popcorn burst out of the kettle - Sawyer would have loved it. He would have taken that big, surprised intake of breath, mouth wide open, blue eyes as big as can be, head looking from us to the popcorn and back. How can we plan this birthday party without him? I had to delete his name from the invitation. I had to delete him.

Sawyer, baby, I miss you so much. You are in our thoughts at every turn. Every song, every movie, every toy, every room, everywhere reminds me of you. Mommy and Daddy have been strong enough to hold it together for most of the day, but mornings and nights are still rough. We have huge pictures of you in the house now - beautiful pictures from your beautiful service. We give you a kiss every morning and night and hope that you can feel them where you are. We're still so sorry baby. We always will be. We will never regret anything more than not thinking of you for those five minutes. It's too late now, but not a minute goes by that you aren't in our minds. We miss you. We love you. We love you to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond, forever and always. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be. Love, Mommy <3

Everyday we're receiving dozens of cards in the mail, phone calls, texts, and messages of condolences. We can't say thank you enough. Sawyer will be honored this Wednesday at 10:00am at St. Frances X Cabrini Catholic Church. My last message seems to have been confusing. The service at the church is open. We only ask that the burial be reserved for family and close friends. I did not send private invitations to "close friends," but you know who you are.  

Many of you have been asking...
Sawyer's organs were retrieved this morning. He will be helping the lives of four children with his heart, liver, and both kidneys. We are very happy that his heart was strong enough to live on. Good job baby.

And just an update on this blog: 235,258 views. That means that about 100,000 views were made in 24 hours. You are amazing Sawyer. We love you to the moon and back, forever and always.

We will be honoring baby Sawyer's life through an open memorial service at the St. Frances X Cabrini Catholic Church (12687 California Street, Yucaipa 92399) on Wednesday, June 25th at 10:00am.

The burial service will be held afterward for family and close friends only. Thank you for respecting our family's privacy during this time.

Tuesday, June 17th @ 3:30pm:

Brain-dead is what they called him. The damage is irreversible, and though we've known officially since Friday, hearing the news in its finality is another damaging blow. Today we said goodbye to Sawyer. We kissed our baby for the last time. Logan and our families came in and gave him a final kiss as well. We've decided to donate any organs that might possibly help another child from passing and another family from going through this nightmare that we're living. We'll be given updates as to who the recipients are and how they are progressing thanks to our Sawyer. It brings us a bit of joy to imagine his heart living on and beating strongly in another child.

I began writing this blog last Thursday to keep the many friends and family continually updated on Sawyer since many of you know how reliable Matt and I are with returning phone calls. We've been truly humbled at just how many people - friends and family, old friends and acquaintances we haven't talked to for years, complete strangers - have reached out to us. We cannot thank you enough for your continued support. Without your love and encouragement we wouldn't have had the strength to make it this far. As of today, 126,880 people have viewed this blog. That is truly humbling. Sawyer has left his mark on so many lives in such a short time. While we will never truly heal from this hurt, we know that we have so many people rallying behind us, helping us to move forward. Thank you so much, from the bottom of our broken hearts, thank you. 

Monday, June 16th @ 2:45pm:

One week after the accident. I can't believe it's only been  a week. We've seen, heard, experienced, and felt more this last week than ever before. The doctors just injected Sawyer with some nuclear medicine that would track the blood flow to and through his brain. There is no blood flow whatsoever. Doctors did several ocular tests that assess reflexes. No responses whatsoever. Sawyer is gone and only medicine and a ventilator keep our baby looking like himself. Looking so perfect, so peaceful. We asked for one final miracle and were not answered. All hope, all prayer is gone. Our baby is gone. We love you Sawyer, so much. We are so sorry we weren't there for you when you needed us most. We will never forgive ourselves. We love you, we love you, we love you.

Why did you give him to us, just to take him away???

Sunday, June 15th @ 9:00pm:

Today was one of the toughest days so far. We have so many people rallying behind Sawyer, but it all seems so hopeless. We're losing faith. We are going to go to church tomorrow morning before we go into spend the day with Sawyer. If God doesn't talk back soon, we're not sure where our faith will be left.

Tomorrow Sawyer will undergo some formal tests that will track the blood flow in his brain, test his lung and spontaneous breathing capacity, and other various functions. He looks so small and precious in his little crib there. He looks perfect, as if he's just sleeping and will wake up at any moment. God what we would give for that. Tonight the nurses will transfer him from a crib to a bed so that we can lie down next to him and just be close. All I want to do is lie next to him, wrap him up in my arms, run my fingers through his perfect hair, and tell him how much I love him. Over and over again. God we love him. Logan has kept us smiling as only he can, but this house still feels so big. So empty. So quiet. So lifeless.

Lord please, please, please, please, don't take my baby. Give him back. You gave him to us, and we're so sorry we failed him. We're so sorry we weren't there for him. But Lord, please, if you just give him back to us, we'll do everything we can to keep our baby safe and happy. He belongs here with us, in our home, not with you. Not yet. Please give him back to us. We're so sorry.

So sorry that this is your Father's Day My Love. You are the best daddy there ever could be. Our boys love you to the moon and back.

Sunday, June 15 @ 10:00am:

Not that God has listened to or answered any of our prayers, but if we have just one final one, it would be that he stops making our little guy suffer. Doctors and nurses are continually caring for his body, pumping more and more medication into his little veins, but as this point, why? It is just a vessel. Our Sawyer has already moved on. Please stop prolonging this pain for my baby. Just let him go.

Saturday, June 14 @ 9:00pm:

Dr. Mirza came in today about 4:00pm and confirmed all of our worst fears. Sawyer is not even in the vegetative state - that is above his ability. His heart rate and his blood pressure continue to fluctuate because his brain is not responding to his body. My Sawyer will most likely not make it through the week, and if he does, he will not awake.

We are at home with Logan, smothering him with all the love our broken hearts have left. We will continue to spend each day with Sawyer, but come home each night to Logan while friends and family do us the favor of keeping Saywer company at night. We are lost, afraid, confused, angry, exhausted, dying inside.

3:30pm - should be updated by the doctors soon...

#prayingforsawyer

Saturday, June 14 @ 11:00am:

Not much to update this morning. Sawyer hasn't really made a positive move in a while it seems. He was fighting the breathing machine and had to be put back on the paralytic. Taking him off of the ventilator seems to be a long shot right now. Doctors continue to pull secretions and fluids from his body. It is good news that we're getting some more junk out, but still so hard to watch. The paralytic has currently worn off, so as of right now, Sawyer has the ability to breath above the vent (take breaths of his own in addition to the ventilator), but he is currently just riding the vent. My baby has never been lazy, so this is a fine time to start - typical Bam Bam.

Sawyer's leg isn't looking so hot either. The incision on the right side looks to be closing up, but that's only because it's pulling on the incision on the left side. Doctors say that the right incision should be sutured up in a week, but the left side will need a skin graft. The skin graft cannot be performed until Sawyer is all better, so only God and time will tell. The wound will remain open until this is possible.

Sawyer's heart rate and blood pressure also seem to be freaking out, moving back and forth from stable to unstable . He must've heard the news yesterday too, because it seems he's as stressed as we are. We are trying to stay calm; we continue praying; we continue reading to him; we continue to sing him lullabies; we continue to lean up one another; we just continue to continue it seems.

Again, thank you ALL for the support. #prayingforsawyer seems to be a viral sensation right now. There is another little boy here who is in the same predicament as our little guy. Warm thoughts, love, and prayers to Jerrod and his family as well.

Dear Heavenly Father,
Please heal our baby, Lord. Let his body heal, let his mind heal, and give him back to us. While we find comfort and strength in you, we are not ready to surrender our baby over to you just yet. He has too much life to live and too many peoples lives to continue to touch - whether or not he leaves bruising on them. You gave him to us and we are going to fight to keep him. Please Lord, hear the millions of prayers that are begging you to heal and give back our Sawyer. He is mine. He is ours. Please Lord. Amen.

Our fighter. He's being put back on the paralytic tonight because he is fighting with the ventilator. He is trying to breath on his own, but abnormally, so the ventilator is creating uneven breathing patterns. This is resulting in higher blood pressure, increased heart rate, and therefore, more meds. One step forward, five steps back. Bam Bam - always taking the hard route. Needing this attitude back.
#prayingforsawyer

Friday, June 13 @ 5:45pm:

Sawyer had his MRI/MRS today at 7:00 am. He was done about 8:45 am. Sawyer's little brain has taken on a lot of damage..."significant brain damage." Neurologists have predicted that my baby may not ever see us, hear us, move by himself, eat by himself, say "I love you Mommy, I love you Daddy," or even wake again.

We're struggling to understand why this is happening to our little guy. He was so strong, so healthy, so funny, so stubborn, so frustrating, so loving, so sweet, so tough, so perfect. We don't know where to go from here but to try to stay strong for Sawyer, and of course, for Logan and each other as well. We will wake each day and look for any more progress our baby will make. We will still aim to get him off of the ventilator. We will continue to watch his leg heal. We will wait until our baby wakes up. He will come home and live his life with us, in our own four walls. We will test him daily until we defeat all of the odds. Fight, Sawyer, fight. Pray, friends and family, pray.

#prayingforsawyer

Logan came in yesterday to see his little brother. He was joined by his younger cousin, Abby. Here at Loma Linda they have a Child Life Specialist who brings in younger siblings or family members and discusses with them what exactly is happening. They take pictures and talk about the tubes and machines and all of their functions. It's really a great idea. The rep, Wendy, was awesome and so patient. Logan asked some really great questions and surprised us all by knowing more about the machines than we expected.

When we brought him into the room he talked to Sawyer a bit, but was afraid to be too loud. I could tell he was avoiding Sawyer's face as he spoke too. I asked him if it was a little weird to see his brother looking so different, and he responded with, "Yea I don't want to look at him anymore, he looks gross." So he just sat in the room, colored him a picture, and explored more of the machines. We thought it was important for Logan to see his baby brother again, and even more important for Sawyer to hear that his big brother loves and misses him. Sawyer is always asking, "Go see Abby?" So it was also great for Abby, who wasn't phased at all by Sawyer's appearance, to let him know she was there.

#prayingforsawyer

By the way...#prayingforsawyer has received an amazing amount of reposts! Thank you Miss Jennifer for gaining so much more support!

Friday, June 13, 6:30am:

Thank goodness I'm not superstitious. Sawyer's MRI/MRS is scheduled for 7:00 this morning. He had a great night last night and is even taking one of his own breaths every minute, though not quite consistently, but still so proud of our little guy! The MRI/MRS should take roughly 3 hours, so we're going to take this time to go see Logan and shower up. We won't get the results back for a day according to the doctors, so please use today to pray for his brain. He's proven everybody wrong with every turn, so we need you all to make sure God shows doctors just how strong and resilient Bam Bam can be. We've been praying that God threw a layer of protection over Sawyer during his time under, so let this be true! We need to see these baby blues again.

#prayingforsawyer

We really want to say thank you to all of you. We are overwhelmed with all of the love our baby has out there. Thank you to our family - without you we would be lost. Your ever present support, love and presence keeps us all sane. Thank you so much to all of our friends who have continued to come each day to see Bam Bam and bring us snacks and water for the haul. Thank you to the Mesa View and Chili's staff that so quickly setup a chain of command to support us in the long run. You guys are all so amazing. Thank you God for giving us yet another day with our baby boy.
#prayingforsawyer

Thursday, June 12 @ 8:30pm:

We're ending our day here. Sawyer is content with his progress right now, continuing to quietly heal. The tube in his nose is a bit small so it makes a wheezing sound. It's as if he's lying there snoring as he so often does. The nurses and doctors continue to monitor his leg. We were told that the color of the muscle returned to normal color immediately after the incision was made. So all is good on the leg front. Sawyer is still on Morphine for the pain (which is great that the doctors think he is responding to pain), so he hasn't been given the opportunity to make any muscular movements yet. His doctor is hoping to wean him off of the ventilator in just a few days, which seems miraculous to us. Keep praying for Sawyer, especially with concerns to his brain. God and the amazing medical team here, with probably a pinch of help from Sawyer himself, are working endlessly to heal his body.

#prayingforsawyer

Most of you have heard by now, our little Bam Bam has gotten himself into one fine pickle.

On Monday, June 9th, we found that Sawyer had climbed himself into the pool without his floaties while we were in the front yard. While we're not sure exactly how long he was in the pool (no more than 5 minutes most likely), doctors are estimating that from the time of our 911 call to the time his little heart started beating again that 32 minutes had passed. So we know we're asking for miracles here, but we've seen a few already.

After being admitted to Loma Linda, where we have had the best nurses and doctors rallying behind us and helping our little guy to heal, Sawyer has had two full cardiac arrests, but was able to fight his way back to us through resuscitation. After those episodes, he's been relatively "stably unstable."

Wednesday was a big day for us all. Sawyer not only stabilized his blood pressure, allowing nurses to take him off of all blood pressure meds, but he was also able to make the transition from the oscillator to the ventilator breathing apparatus. This was a huge step, showing that our little man's lungs are healing nicely. So yay! Everything was looking up. Or so we thought...

Wednesday afternoon he developed a blood clot in his left leg, just below the knee. He was originally on 4 different blood pressure medications that were pushing all of the blood up to his heart, plus had several lines inserted in his left leg. These are most likely the causes of the clot. Needless to say, the lower leg became very swollen, stiff, cold, and mottled. Doctors decided that surgery was necessary to release the pressure, so within the hour, Sawyer was wheeled down to the OR where two incisions were made from knee to ankle on either side of his calf. The operation was successful and we can now hear a strong pulse in the bottom of his left foot. On a side note...doctors should never use the word "amputation" unless 112% necessary.

So it is now Thursday and we are continuing to watch Sawyer improve. We're hoping and praying that he stops giving us more hills to climb as we're still battling the large mountain. Tomorrow we are scheduled for an MRI and MRS of the brain to see what, if any, activity is occurring. The doctor said today that Sawyer's neurologist reported that while there's not much, there is some activity. All we can do is pray at this point that our little fighter continues to battle. If anyone can make it through this, it is Sawyer. All of you who have met him, even for just a short time, know how true this rings.

I will continue to update you all on his progressions. Thank you so much for all of the support, prayers, and love that you have all provided. We are really amazed at just how blessed our little family is.

We've created this page to keep the millions of friends and family members that have been reaching out to us updated on Sawyer's daily progress.