July 18, 2007, we welcomed our seventh child into our family. Bridget Lucille was five and a half weeks early, weighing in at five pounds even. I had been having pre-term labor symptoms for a couple of weeks before her delivery, so was able to get steroid shots to mature her lungs. I had an amniocentesis done the morning of her delivery to be sure that she would be as ready as could be for her early arrival. When we she was born having trouble breathing, we were very surprised.

The NICU was a terrible experience. It seemed everything went wrong. They put her on CPAP for what they thought was respiratory distress syndrome due to prematurity. When she was getting worse and not better, they finally realized on the xray that Bridget in fact had a pneumothorax, on the same side that her collarbone had broken. CPAP was forcing pressure into her punctured lung, making it harder for her to breathe, and putting pressure in her chest cavity making it harder for her heart. They took her off the CPAP and just gave her a little extra oxygen for awhile, then let her be and the pneumothorax healed on its own.
The world of "protocol, policy, procedure" held us hostage. They thought Bridget's gestational age automatically meant she was not going to be able nurse. She had a great latch and a strong suck, though. After the nurse was able to see that, they gave into letting us keep her off the feeding tube. I warned that our children all have had newborn jaundice, and our last preemie had been very close to a transfusion due to billirubin levels, and to expect levels to go from moderate to high very quickly. Just as I'd warned, Bridget did indeed have jaundice. The NICU used intensive light therapy to help her, but neglected doctor's orders to have her on an IV. She became very weak and tired very quickly. Overnight she went from being like a term baby to acting more premature. That was the turning point for her. She started smiling repeatedly, which at the time we called "talking with angels," but neurologists who viewed the videos say it looked suspicious of seizure activity. She lost her strong suck. She slept so much.
We were nervous and happy to finally be able to bring her home ten days later. I didn't know if she was ready, but felt that the NICU was not giving her good care. The pediatrician was ready to let her come home with us. It was just so nice to finally have Bridget home with us.

I learned about kangaroo care and kept Bridget on my chest constantly. We hadn't bought a baby monitor, but my husband joked that we didn't need it because really, when did I put her down. He was right. I carried her everywhere. She just seemed so fragile and weak. I worried about how sleepy she was and how she seemed to have such a hard time nursing. I pumped milk to make sure my supply would be adequate for her. We gave her extra bottles with a little formula mixed in to give it extra calories.
She did okay at first, but the next time we took her in for a weight check she wasn't gaining weight. We talked about possibly doing a feeding tube, but decided to try a few more days. I learned about a nipple shield and started using that. She seemed to have an easier time with that, but still struggled. We took her back in and she had gained some weight. The doctor told me not to bring her in for another month unless I was worried, and then they could check her weight.
I honestly was worried all the time. Constantly. There was not one day I wasn't worried. I tried to tell myself that she was just premature and that just because Dominic died didn't mean she would. Besides, he died from botulism, and I knew the symptoms and was watching carefully. And the doctors all had told me that lightening doesn't strike twice. I took her in for a weight check and she actually was gaining okay. I tried to relax, but I just couldn't.
Bridget continued to have episodes of "talking with angels." They became a little more intense, and we started calling it her "trance state" because she seemed to be awake but not really aware of what was going on around her. Afterwards, she would just become so tired and lethargic. She was so floppy, like Dominic had been. I was very worried. Sometimes she would breathe so shallowly that I wasn't sure she was breathing at all. She would get mottled a lot, too. Things just didn't seem right. When she was floppy and tired, her jaw would fall back. She just seemed much more tired than I thought was okay.
I felt reassured because a home health nurse was coming out every couple of weeks. She would weigh her and evalute her development. She would always tell me that Bridget was doing great. She was tracking objects, holding her head up. She was always so alert and paying attention. She never saw her "trance episodes" or lethargic times. I thought maybe they really were more likely just silly quirks, maybe from being premature, and maybe since the nurse wasn't seeing problems that I
was just being paranoid.
She
would have times when she seemed to be doing fine. I would think that maybe I was exaggerating what I was seeing because of what we'd been through with Dominic. Maybe I
was just being paranoid, like my husband thought. I just adored my baby girl and thought she was such a precious, beautiful child. I would really only put her down to take pictures, which thankfully I took many. I worked hard on the feeding to make sure it was successful. I wasn't going to let my baby starve! Sometimes I thought about how hard it had been to feed Dominic, and felt angry when I would feel overwhelmed with the difficulties. I would rather have her here and having a hard time with feeding than the alternative -- I already knew that too well.
We decided to go ahead and have Bridget blessed on the same day that her older sister would be baptized. It was the first of September. I had not liked the idea of doing it in September, thinking about how hard the month was for us with Dominic's crisis event and death being in that month. I tried to tell myself it was just superstitious, and with it being labor day weekend it would give people more time to travel. We tried to make it convenient so more people could join us for the special occasion. Our daughter was baptized and confirmed. Then we went to the bathroom to change Bridget into her blessing dress. For a brief moment, I thought she'd stopped breathing. She was completely limp, and unresponsive, and she seemed to be so pale. But her lips weren't turning blue and I told myself to snap out of it and not scare my older daughter. I did say quietly, "Bridget, are you okay!?" and then she seemed to stir a little. She was still pretty lethargic. I took her back to be blessed, and didn't hear much of what was said because I kept worrying that maybe she was getting dehydrated. It had only been two hours since she nursed, but I was just so worried.
I took her home and nursed her. We had company over and I expressed some of my concerns. Others agreed that there did appear to be some things that could be brought up the next time I saw the doctor. It was going to be in less than a week, so I figured I could be patient. I took her to church for her first time the next day. I stood and bore testimony, and was emotionally overcome. I thought it was because it was
exactly six years before that I had held Dominic in my arms and bore testimony, only to have him stop breathing six days later. I took her home after sacrament meeting. We went to Temple Square in the afternoon. She really seemed to have a harder time when it was warmer. She was very tired and lethargic again. I was trying so hard to get her to wake up to nurse. I tried so many things, even putting cold water on her face. She just was too tired. I had my sisters try to help me get her awake enough. They pulled off her socks, pinched at her feet. Eventually she did wake up enough to nurse. But it seemed it took so much for her to do such a simple thing.
Labor day Bridget seemed to have a good span where things seemed to be going pretty well. We even took this picture:

I actually took a lot of pictures that day, but this is probably the one we will use on her headstone. Really, you shouldn't have to use a picture of your child as an infant on a headstone. You really shouldn't have to be choosing a headstone for your child at all.
That Friday, September 7th we took her to the pediatrician. I had a list of concerns. Her weight had increased, up to five pounds fourteen ounces. The home health nurse had weighed her the day before at six pounds even. I was worried about her weight, and the lethargic and floppy times and how tired she was and so many things. The doctor did say her weight was a slow gain, but that it was still acceptable. He'd like to see her gain a little better if we could, but he wasn't worried. He took time to hear my concerns, and over and over again just tried to reassure me that things were fine. He commented about how he understood with the anniversary of Dominic's crisis event and death so close that I might be more sensitive, but he just didn't think things were so bad. He chided about ordering a monitor for her, but that he didn't think it was medically necessary and that it would just be for reassurance.
This is what Bridget looked like that afternoon that he saw her, and I don't know how he didn't see something to worry about:

I actually had hoped that he really did order the monitor, but home health never came with it that night. He had told me to let her sleep longer at night instead of waking her to feed her. I did that, although I did actually try to wake her up a little anyway because I was just too worried. In the morning, I got online and I ordered an angel care monitor from Amazon. I was just too nervous. It was
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH! I knew that it was irrational to be so worried. The doctor had just told me everything was fine, but I was so nervous. I talked with my mom on the phone, and Bridget cooed a little. Shortly after that, she gave me a big half grin. It was the first time I really believed she smiled at me interactively. She had smiled many times before, and even laughed, but it often seemed to be in her "trance state" or just at random times. I am grateful both Bridget and Dominic smiled for me the day they had their crisis events.
We left for IKEA. We got there and as I took her in, I was angry at a man for smoking in the family parking area. Didn't he think he should have a little more respect for children? I put Bridget in the sling and started nursing her. She had only eaten a couple of hours before, but I was trying to make sure she got as much as she needed. When we got inside the store, a cute lady who worked there saw the sling and came to admire our baby. She saw I was nursing, and then showed me a nursing lounge. I actually had just seen it because I had gone to the bathroom. I had thought it seemed kind of unsanitary to put the nursing lounge right there. And I had noticed a big emergency button on the wall and thought it was unusual. I pretended to think the nursing lounge was a good idea so I wouldn't offend this sweet lady, and then when she left, I continued on into the store to look around.
We had planned on buying beds for Christmas. I'd bought bedding for Bridget, and we needed another bed now that we had a new family member. We were amazed at all the sights in the store. Bridget stopped nursing, so I asked my husband if I should leave my breast exposed in case she woke up and wanted to nurse more, or cover up. Without waiting for an answer, I figured I was covered enough by the sling and that if she would eat more, she needed it. We continued walking around.
Then I checked on her again. Bridget just didn't seem right. I asked my husband if he thought she looked okay. I did this a lot, because I was always so worried about her. He immediately said he didn't think so, and I went into shock at that moment. I asked him to help get her out of the sling, and I don't even remember much after this. I remember wandering, trying to cover up and asking for help. "We need help!" I was trying to decide if I was imagining things or if Bridget was really not breathing. I kept thinking I was making a scene over nothing, embarrassing ourselves because I was somehow confused about Dominic on
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH. But then I would go to reach the phone and see my husband doing compressions on my baby girl. Something was wrong, right? "We need help!" I saw a man look at me like, "lady, ask someone who works here. If you want to buy a couch or something, they can help you." He didn't say anything, but I thought maybe he was right. Maybe I shouldn't be bothering the customers. Nothing was really wrong, right? Bridget, are you okay? You're okay, right Bridget? Please, Bridget! Be okay! It's okay, right? It's okay!
I just couldn't believe it. I felt like passing out. I couldn't believe it. Someone came and said they knew CPR and started to help and someone called 911 and I kept thinking I was dreaming. It couldn't be real, I don't know how this could be real. Bridget has to be okay. I was thinking that it wasn't the same. I was nursing on the other side. But then I guess I realized I was wrong. Dominic had been nursing on that same side! But it wasn't real. I was imagining it. ESPECIALLY because it was all the same again, I must have fallen asleep on these mattresses in this store and I'm having this terrible dream about Bridget because my mind is still working on processing it all with Dominic. I had had a feeling earlier that morning that I felt was a spiritual impression, though. That she was going to be a special needs child. So I kept telling myself that if it was real that she might have some brain damage, but she was going to be okay. This time I
knew CPR wasn't going to work, defibrillators weren't going to work. She needed the medicine. I don't remember too much. There was a policeman and he wouldn't let me be by Bridget, and I didn't understand why. I thought it was okay. They took her to the ambulance, and let me go in the ambulance. They told me some of her stats and I don't remember what they were, but she had a heart rate and I knew it was too low but I was glad she had one. I knew she couldn't breathe by herself, but I decided she was going to be okay now that she had a heartbeat.
We drove to the corner of IKEA in the ambulance. There was a life flight helicopter there. I don't know if any of them helped Dominic. I found out one of them is named Kris. I saw her at the fire station open house and then at the NICU reunion. So now I know she helped take care of Bridget. She let me give her a kiss, but I couldn't go in the helicopter with her. They flew her to the Children's hospital, and then the fire men took us in their fire truck to the hospital. One of the fire men drove our van there for us. He said we were in no condition to drive.
We got to the hospital quickly. The second half of our ride up they ran their lights and sirens, so we could get through game traffic. I guess it must have been a home game at the University that day. But when we got there, we had to wait. And the social worker would come and sit with us and tell us over and over that she was very sick, and I knew they were trying to tell me she was going to die, but I didn't believe it because I knew she was going to be a special needs child. She was going to be okay.
I hated the day that the donor team came to talk to us about organ donation. It was a big misunderstanding. I was yelling at them that they were talking as if Bridget had already died, and then they told me technically she had. I was so angry! The doctor came in and we fought and fought. I was so upset. She was sorry for the way things were explained, because there are different definitions for death, and for organ donation you don't actually die in the way I think of death before they take your organs to give to someone else. It was such a horrible thing to think about. And Bridget wasn't even a
candidate for organ donation because of the unknAnd then it was also when I was made very aware that Bridget was too sick. Too much time without oxygen. The only thing keeping her here was machines and medicines. A lot of medicines. And she was still getting sicker anyway.
We still were able to have more tests done to hopefully give us answers. A skin biopsy. A muscle biopsy. The same doctors that had been so sure that Dominic died from botulism were now saying that he died
with botulism, but not
from botulism. That Bridget and Dominic likely both shared the same underlying genetic problem. Maybe a metabolic problem or mitochondrial disease. Because it affected both a girl and a boy, it would be autosomal recessive. But they didn't have any answers for us.
Bridget died in our arms on the morning of Saturday, September 15, 2007. She didn't even try to take a single breath on her own when they took the machines away. She died very peacefully, but my heart was so shattered. Literally, my mind broke in that hospital, too. A part of me just broke away and stayed at the bedside with Bridget. She is still there, waiting for Bridget to wake up. She has to be okay. Please, Bridget,
please! PLEASE! Bridget, don't die!