As I write this update, it has been nearly eleven days since the accident. I spend most nights at the hospital, sleeping in snatches in the ICU by Kristian’s bed. That’s where I am right now, watching my wife sleep and make slow, steady progress toward recovery. Some days I do struggle waking up, knowing that we have to be strong and meet the challenges that our family faces. But we don’t do it alone.
I want to thank the Creator for small miracles.
Thankfully, August has already been released from the pediatric ICU, and is now home, smiling, babbling, and pooping like his normal self again. I thank all of the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends that have warmed bottles, changed diapers, pushed strollers, installed car seats, and otherwise helped keep his world bright and constant. Whenever I see him, I see a bit more of Kristian, and it gives me that much more hope and purpose.
Kristian is still in the neurotrauma ICU, healing her body and her mind. While she is still in a coma, she has been meeting and passing all the benchmarks set out before someone in as deep of a coma as she is. She has been making deliberate motions with her left hand, grasping and reaching for objects and stimuli. She has responded to her neurological examinations with strength and intention. As Kristian always has in all things, she impresses me daily with her achievements. She aced her spontaneous breath trials, initiating her own breathing and leading to a successful tracheotomy, removing both the ventilator and feeding tubes from her mouth. Shortly after that surgery, she opened her eyes for the first time, and has done so on repeat occasions, which meets yet another expectation for recovery.
Recent results of a second MRI scan indicate that anoxia, a worst case scenario, did not occur. While this doesn’t change much in the way of prognosis, it helps us all feel relieved of the complications that can result from the brain experiencing even a brief anoxic moment. Additionally, the areas of the brain most affected by her accident, while extremely significant and delicate, are not the most crucial and critical processing regions, which yields a bit more optimism.
Kristian’s healing is ultimately in the hands of the Creator, the medical staff, and herself. It is for this reason that I can be confident that at the right time, she will come back to us, fully healed.
For me, any hour that I don’t cry is still a good hour. I’ve been able to string more of those hours together into better days, and for that much, I’m grateful.
There is so much further to go. I want to ask the Creator for healing, for wisdom, and for patience.
I continue to ask for support. A burden of this magnitude is only made lighter by the shoulders of many. Through her tangibly infectious spirit, Kristian’s village is a sprawling network of friends and family who I am learning to lean on in this difficult time.
People have already been generously giving their prayers, funds, and even their own breastmilk to our family. We ask for more of all three, and for people to continue to support BLK+GRN, Kristian’s amazing business.
Together, we will rise.
- Jason Edwards