This time we made it all the way inside the E.R. and into a hospital bed on the floor

A crazy day today has turned out to be.

I guess you could say it started at 5 a.m. Cayman woke up crying. I had just finished feeding Kobe so I was already up and went to her room immediately. She was standing in her crib looking out, tears streaming down her face. I picked her up and she snuggled into me tight. I tucked her in bed with me. That made her happy. And soon she was sitting up and turned into Mike's face and spoke a loud and clear, "Hi."

Mike smiled even before his tired eyes opened.

Then Cayman saw the ipod charging on my night stand. She performed her made up sign for the ipod, her way of requesting it. We told her no and encouraged her to lay down and sleep.

Half an hour later, Cayman was still awake. Mike decided to return her to her own bed. And she fell back to sleep well.

The next coherent minute in my recollection was just a bit before 7 a.m. Mike called my name softly but in a tone I know only when he's completely serious. "Kris, Cayman's not acting right. What should I do?"

That'll jump start the legs to get moving!

I sprung out of bed.

"Lay her down. Let's see what she does." I said to him.

Mike gently lowered Cayman to the floor. She just laid there. That's not Cayman at all. She's ready to move right away when she wakes up. She is active. Crawling and signing. It was clear she was not well.

Then I noticed how pale her complexion was.

"How long has she been like this?" I urged Mike to put forth all his knowledge he had. I was feeling so desperate for being asleep and unaware.

"I don't know. I just found her like this in her crib right now. She was awake and just staring. She would not respond to me."

"Call 911. I don't know how much time she has." I said while unzipping her jammies and put my ear to her chest. Her heart was beating strong. If anything it was too rapid.

I picked her up into my arms. She looked at me, the first responsive action we had seen in her at that point. Then she dozed right off again. I kept calling her name and only a small twitch of her eye is all she conveyed that she heard me. I started jostling her, to arouse her awake. She opened her eyes and shut them immediately. Then she vomited. At that moment I felt no doubt, this was a shunt failure.

"The ambulance is on its way." Mike said, snapping his phone closed and placing it in the pocket of his work pants.

We quickly discussed travels plans. We decided Mike would go with Cayman. Kobe would soon be waking up to feed. I would tend to him, pack the bags (again), and be on our way.

I called my mom. She set out for our house immediately to help, mainly in helping me hold it all together.

It was a lonely and hard minute watching the ambulance pull away from my driveway with my little girl inside. A flash of memory came over me of the time she coded, a year ago. And my next thought frightened me to the core, "That might be the last I ever see her alive on this side of Heaven!"

And I broke down under that.

Kobe began to cry. It was the best thing for me right then. His needs snapped me back into what I needed to be doing and thinking. i pulled myself up off the floor. I regrouped, regathered, and renewed.

I feed him. Grabbed myself a 60 second shower. Packed bags. My mom arrived (today's her birthday. "Happy Birthday Mom and to my nephew Ty!"). And away we headed toward Ann Arbor.

Mike kept in touched and informed us that Cayman was being life flighted to the U of M hospital. She had vomited again at the local E.R. and while she had perked up a little, she was not much better.

Mom followed me in her own vehicle.

Life flight flew over head. It's a crazy feeling knowing that "bird" is in the air for your own child. Just crazy.

My friend Jill talked with me over the phone for the greater portion of the trip, which made the miles of that long drive go by nearly unnoticed. ("Jill, thank you for that!")

At the U of M emergency room Cayman's condition was less concerning. That being said does not imply no concern at all. She was still not herself but definitely more alert, having interest in her toys and interaction. Our heart's rested just a bit to see that. She was still pretty quiet and content to lay in bed for the entire 12 hours we were in the E.R. That's not typical Cayman. She's all about getting down to move around. Not stay in one spot for many hours!

{ A more than slightly disturbed Tinkerbell painted on the window of Cayman's room in the E.R. Either that or a mad Pinocchio has started to wear Tinkerbell's clothes. }

A shunt series and MRI were done. They took a look at Cayman's shunt and ventricle sizes. The report did not turn up any significance differences, which has been common for Cayman in the past. It felt disheartening to not receive clear answers. And the wait continues.

Kobe was an amazing, good boy. I think God has made a piece of him extra special. He fits in our family well with his easy going personality which is so incredibly appreciated with the on-go schedule we have for doctor appointments and therapy. Now if we could just get him past all that spitting up that would be peachy. It's like he's trying to mark his territory with baby barf wherever he goes.

In the E.R. Kobe found himself completely smitten by sister's I.V. bag. It glowed in the dim lights and his eyes were hooked by its illuminating brilliance. Insert *roll of my eyes* and *a smile*. What a silly boy. This is not the more fascinating parts of life.

{ Staring at the IV bag. }

Cayman took a long nap in the afternoon. She was asleep just past 3 hours when she was awoken by the rustle and bustle in the room getting everything packed up and ready for her admittance to the hospital.

So right now the update is just on stand-by alert observation. Her status has improved in the last hour from where it was this morning when she was life flighted. She is still not 100% but she is sitting up and being interactive (for now). It could change at any time again. That's how these things can go.

{ Cayman was annoyed by the gown falling off her petite shoulders. }

Crazy the roller coaster ride the last 48 hours has been. I still have high suspicions it is her shunt. We have seen this in the past when it was a slow, intermittent fail. But still, it's hard to say for sure when the answers are not so black and white at this point. I am just thankful that she is still here with us.

{ Telling brother good-bye. He went home with my mom. }

We appreciate your prayers! They carry us through these valleys of life. And we thank you for that gift you give to our family.

*Hugs*

Good night.