Almost home. Going Home.

Back in February, I talked about us moving to Georgia and going to the Shepherd Center for Morgan.  She was taken into their Disorders of Consciousness program but was also getting rehabilitation while we were there.   We arrived at Shepherd Center on April 6, 2015 and things were just moving along.  She was getting extensive rehabilitation.  They had scheduled us for several discharge dates while we were there, and I had mentioned before that we were learning how to take care of Morgan once we came home.  Every time we seemed to be approaching that looming discharge date, something would happen that would keep us there.  A surgery.   A break-through with therapy.  A change in medication.  Sometimes it did not seem "major" but it kept us there, and anything that kept Morgan at the SC and getting the help we felt like she was getting, kept us encouraged.  We felt like God was moving, and if that is where we/she needed to be, we were happy to be there.  Toward the end of May, Morgan seemed to take a turn.  She did not want to hold her head up straight; she was not sleeping well; she started having a lot of trouble with her feeding tube, and she was vomiting a lot.  Of course, the doctors were working on all of these things and we were all keeping a close eye on her.  They had scheduled a surgery to replace the G-tube with a G-J-tube. (I won't go into a lot of details, but would be better for her and help with the problems she was having.)  She started having trouble breathing and the nurse noticed that her pulse oxygen level (level of oxygen in the blood) was low and not getting better.  They started taking blood on a pretty regular basis and started taking lung x-rays.  One after the other, they noticed the lungs were not looking healthy and they called in a pulmonologist.  He was taking regular x-rays of her lungs and they were keeping a constant eye on her oxygen level.  Everything kept getting worse.  Then everything went from bad to really bad in what felt like the blink of an eye.  Her blood oxygen was dropping at an alarming rate and they called a "Rapid Response" code.  Paramedics, nurses and doctors came flooding into her room, drawing blood, giving her oxygen and taking all kinds of care.  Within the hour, she was being transferred to the ICU and being put back on a ventilator.  The pulmonologist, along with her neurologist and probably some other doctors I don't remember (the room was full), were gathered around, watching and discussing.  It was very... ominous.   I don't know if that's necessarily the correct word to use here, but that is what comes to my mind.  Kevin was back in Arkansas.  We had bought a van; we had ordered all our home health equipment, hospital bed, etc. and he was home to get it set up for our arrival.  He got the call and headed back to Georgia as quickly as he could.  The doctors were giving us hope, but also letting us know it could get very bad.

Morgan did not come off the ventilator that time.  She did not regain "consciousness" again. Her kidneys failed.  Her lungs failed.  Her heart had a hole in it.  She could not have surgery to fix her heart, her condition was way too critical.  Over the next few weeks, her body was shutting down, piece by piece and she was losing the battle.  We were losing the battle we had fought for so long.  We were losing our daughter.  We were losing a piece of ourselves, and there was nothing we could do about it.  As a mother, I have never, NEVER, felt so helpless in my life.  To know there is absolutely nothing I can do for my child is the worse feeling in the world.  I know the Lord, I know he made Morgan and I know He loves her more than I do.  I realized early on that she was leaving this world and that I would not see my vibrant, smiling Morgan again until I saw her in heaven.  I "knew" it but I didn't want to accept it.  I prayed so hard, TELLING God he could still save her.  I told him that he could still make this all go away if he wanted to, and all he had to do was speak the words, and I begged "Please God, just speak the words."  It's okay to ask God for what you want.  I remember being in the chapel of the hospital, crying out to God, reminding him that I had given back to him what he had blessed me with - Morgan.  That she was His child, and I was praying for His will in her life and mine.  Saying "Your will" meant surrender and felt final to an earthly, grieving mother, knowing her young child was going to meet her Savior.  There are no words to describe that feeling in your heart when you come to terms with how your life is about to change.

We met with the doctors and a team of people several times during those last two weeks.  We knew what was coming and they were trying their best to help us through those decisions.  Friday, July 3, 2015.  I knew the day. I knew what day it would happen, and how it would happen but not WHY it was happening.  It was so surreal.  What do you do the day and the night before you know what is coming??  I talked.  I sang.  I prayed with her, over her.  I held her hand, I kissed her sweet face.

And then she went Home.  Not Arkansas home.  Since the day of the accident, I just wanted her home.  Our home, her surroundings, her pets, her friends.  She didn't get to come home.  But Hallelujah, she's in her forever Home.

Morgan's last selfie -

This is how we see Morgan when she woke up in Heaven with her Savior!