This is Chapter 8 in the Grief Memoir. Catch up with previous chapters here.
Following our trip to Disneyland, I was in the homestretch for my pregnancy. I was worried about what would happen when Dad went into the hospital again. What if it happened when I was in active labor? What if I was in a sleep-deprived haze with a newborn? How do I care for Dad when I’m far away and can’t travel?
I game-planned over the following months with James, our friends and family, and my therapist. I had to release the guilt of not being able to do everything. I had myself and a new baby to focus on, and as much as that hurt, I knew that Dad understood that too, and he knew it. He was making plans in his head to visit in the spring to meet the baby, which I just could not imagine him doing. His last trip up had been so stressful that him around with a newborn was too much to think about.
I let him daydream about a future trip while I decided what I could and could not do the next time he got worse. I made a mental list of local friends to call to help with kid pick-up or just support. We planned with my in-laws when they would arrive before baby and how long they could stay afterward. I decided to call the hospital less to get updates when Dad went back depending on the timing. I would delegate updates on Dad to other people where I could, saving family and closest friends to me.
The week before I went to the hospital for my induction, Dad ended up in the hospital. And this time he was intubated for his breathing issues. It was serious. But I felt prepared. I focused on contacting the most important people and calling the hospital for an update once a day. The nurses and staff called with other updates or questions but other things that needed to happen I passed off to James or friends. I accepted that I was able to do only what I was doing and tried to remain calm because I was really trying to keep my baby in just a bit longer.
In the days before my planned induction, Dad was taken off intubation and was doing well enough. We were able to talk to him and while he was confused about what was going on, he was awake and feeling well enough. I went into the hospital to give birth knowing my dad was improving. I gave birth to our third child, a healthy baby boy. James called Dad who was thrilled to be a grandfather again.
The next week passed with tracking feedings, diapers, and trying to sleep with a newborn. I checked in with Dad and the nurses as much as I could. But by the end of that week, it was clear that I needed boots on the ground to get some clear answers. If you’ve ever spent time in a hospital you know that doctors show up randomly and it can be hard to get them on the phone. So we made a tough choice – James would go to Phoenix for the week. He’d attend his classes virtually as he could but mostly sit in the hospital with Dad and see what was going on. My in-laws were still in town so they helped me with kid drop off and pick up while I took care of the baby. James stayed with friends in Phoenix and spent his days with Dad – who was not always himself. His sundowning and irritability were worse. He was paranoid that James was trying to steal from him and that the hospital staff wasn’t telling him the truth. He insisted that certain friends come by to assess if he had a legal case, who I called to give a heads-up on what they were walking into.
James returned home with some answers – Dad’s heart was not pumping that strongly, resulting in fluid building up in his lungs, and I believe, less oxygen to his brain. Dad had good days and bad. I continued to try to keep my boundaries but did talk to Dad whenever he called. He was very confused what was happening. He wanted to leave and go home, but he wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t healthy enough.
I started talking to the palliative care staff at the hospital as they were focusing on how to make Dad more comfortable. I messaged my OBGYN – “Is it ok for me to fly home if need be?” She said yes. And then came the toughest calls. Dad’s likelihood of improving was low. They were going to need to keep removing fluid from his lungs, frequently. It was time for hospice.
I had given birth just two weeks before but I started to move quickly to go home. I started doing laundry so the baby and I could fly home to say goodbye to Dad. I booked the first flight I could feasibly get on with all that I had to do. I signed paperwork online to approve the transfer to a hospice center between feeding the baby, diaper changes, attempting naps, showering, and packing. And then the phone rang.
It was the doctor. Surrounded by the hospital staff, Dad had passed away. I knew in my heart that he didn’t want to move again. He was done and just like mom, he had chosen his time. I got off the phone and sobbed. It was one of those cries that takes over your whole body. I sat on the couch and wept.
James was already on his way home from school, I changed my flight to later that night, there was no rush to get to Phoenix anymore. I called family and close friends to tell them the news.
The girls were going to stay with my in-laws, James was going to come with me and baby so that we could do what we needed to do at home together. That night, with an infant sleeping on my chest, we flew home to Phoenix.