tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46260786631418742162024-03-13T17:25:40.159-07:00Team TravisNicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.comBlogger362125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-68367813957546288362023-10-23T21:24:00.001-07:002023-10-23T21:24:40.991-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our Annual Team Travis dinner at the Ronald McDonald House was a huge success. Yummy food, tons of house guests (maybe the most ever), crafts, books, and lots of loving energy. Thank you to everyone who donated and helped out! It’s always so hard, but we enjoy being able to share the joy of our little man. #14. #TeamTravis #HeWasHere</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZsvBd6kquuYgGvDdg-g2Kq3_YZy5MLDW8nwEyyRu93bXuXVS_VSDhZRt3fClc0T-tiwl6m3BF_q_AUSxhRwgr2a9RlaB2Xrfwuy7bil0nd2iWWLcqr_TwYdaJLP5Npf9Ck5FqMPFEuRKrdIWm_DpY-KYfD-3WO5_5Lwj7rbm6XLo1H0LIQH4Qx4Vz68/s2048/394705391_10228233259231193_4791891507560038844_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZsvBd6kquuYgGvDdg-g2Kq3_YZy5MLDW8nwEyyRu93bXuXVS_VSDhZRt3fClc0T-tiwl6m3BF_q_AUSxhRwgr2a9RlaB2Xrfwuy7bil0nd2iWWLcqr_TwYdaJLP5Npf9Ck5FqMPFEuRKrdIWm_DpY-KYfD-3WO5_5Lwj7rbm6XLo1H0LIQH4Qx4Vz68/s320/394705391_10228233259231193_4791891507560038844_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWfThfk_zpyteK1foYF4uqzvEUqMibacikTd_WlFM-Nb9HIrilInWjHCoZarg3F7ML-rigbPW6fHIcMKU-Dw9zsBvPOLCSxucx5Ucjjm1tiTXjtPXV3RzcHLMTN6e6OwhGHq_fCbEWiuhISqk2xXQV9I19neLzhYloYjz4QJxLs-YoJpTz7gMU4NklXU/s320/395397367_10228233251991012_6112088704024215443_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-17467869584397506292019-09-26T09:16:00.001-07:002019-09-27T12:02:04.621-07:00Team Travis Dinner - Giving back<div data-referrer="event_description" id="event_description" style="background-color: #e9ebee;">
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;">Gift cards/cash: will be used at Costco to purchase food for the annual dinner. All denominations are appreciated.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;">Books: Books just need to be in my hands by 10/22/19 so that I can bring them to Rady's the following day.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;">We are collecting NEW books in memory of Travis on his 10th birthday (10/23/19). The books will be given to the guests at the Ronald McDonald House the evening of his annual birthday dinner. Additional books will either be donated to the house for give aways OR dropped off on the CICU/PICU floors.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;">Please ask around and repost this on your walls. Books and gift cards can be sent directly to our house (listed above). Or, contact Roger or myself to arrange a</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;"> drop off. E-mail is rogerd56@yahoo.com<br /><br />****PLEASE NOTE: We are collecting NEW books only. The books are going into the rooms and families of fragile patients, so we have to have things germ free. Thanks!! *******<br /><br /><br />Thank you in advance!!!!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you would like to make a financial donation, you can do it via paypal link. All money will go towards purchasing food and supplies for Dinner.</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.paypal.me/mrsdicarlo" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Donation to pay for food and supplies for Travis' Dinner</span></a></div>
Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-11908853883973198172018-10-23T21:52:00.001-07:002018-10-23T21:52:08.899-07:00<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Celebrated Travis' 9th birthday by serving dinner at Ronald McDonald house. The amount of support from people that were there to serve and help, that donated books or donated costco cards is truly overwhelming. We can never thank people enough for the show of love for our family. </span><span class="_5afx" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;"><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/teamtravis?source=feed_text" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz" style="font-family: inherit; unicode-bidi: isolate;">#</span><span class="_58cm" style="font-family: inherit;">teamtravis</span></a></span><br />
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<span id="goog_398414953"></span><span id="goog_398414954"></span><br />Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-55754922350221026692016-02-19T11:24:00.001-08:002016-02-19T11:25:56.727-08:00It's all About Awareness<div style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">I had the opportunity to share Travis' story to our boys and girls basketball team yesterday. Since it's been five years, some of these kids hadn't heard his story. It's always hard to to share the details of his fight with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS). It's important to us that we continue to bring awareness to congenital heart defects and honor Travis' short little life.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Travis taught us so many things: resilience, joy, positivity, and how precious life is. If I could just make one kid look at life a bit differently, then it was worth it.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">His angelversary happens to be today, the night of our crosstown rival game at Mission Hills. </span>Both San Marcos programs will be wearing special warm-up shirts to school and to the game. </div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Travis loved going to basketball games with daddy. One of the pictures below is the last game Travis attended, it was at Mission Hills. I'm sure he'll be there with us tonight.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisAALVMlsX1wUi30mQamm_FOel0Brin7fRmvoLMqbduJt6Kv6Xc7BZCcEgqOvcppA8IM_zA6cOA3Ci7T4jB34KX6ebHaAH5UB9tSpfxcrjqNXKKnqVt6_vEr29-rcjm92pJAGe937ewE/s1600/trav1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisAALVMlsX1wUi30mQamm_FOel0Brin7fRmvoLMqbduJt6Kv6Xc7BZCcEgqOvcppA8IM_zA6cOA3Ci7T4jB34KX6ebHaAH5UB9tSpfxcrjqNXKKnqVt6_vEr29-rcjm92pJAGe937ewE/s320/trav1.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-6425308176099096832015-10-23T07:45:00.000-07:002015-10-23T07:45:02.752-07:00Happy 6th Birthday Travis<span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">Travis Gary DiCarlo, first son of Roger and Nicole DiCarlo, was born at San Diego Kaiser Hospital, October 23, 2009 with a Congenital Heart Defect known as Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, or HLHS. The short explanation is that Travis was born with only half of a heart. In order for him to live, a series of three operations were planned.</span><br style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;" /><br style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">Due to an infection, Travis had to have an additional open heart surgery to insert pulmonary artery bands on October 29, 2009. He had his Norwood Surgery on November 21, 2009. He was sent home on December 14, 2009 from Rady's Children Hospital of San Diego after spending his first 52 nights of life in the hospital.</span><br style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">After being home for several months, Travis was due to for his next surgery in the plan, the Glenn procedure. But the life of a cardiac kid can change in an instant and life doesn't always go as planned. Due to the anatomy of his heart and some rhythm issues, Travis had what the surgeons called Norwood part 2. They replaced his Sano Shunt with a bigger one, enlarged his pulmonary arteries and installed a pacemaker. This surgery was performed on May 3, 2010. Travis went home on May 17th, 2010.</span><br style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;" /><br style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;" /><br style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">Around Travis' first birthday in October his cardiologist detected some narrowing in his pulmonary artery and ordered a heart cath. The heart cath showed extensive narrowing in his aorta and his pulmonary artery. On February 17, 2011 Travis had his 4th open heart surgery. He was doing well with recovery until he suddenly went into cardiac arrest on Friday (2/18). After two hours of CPR Travis was placed on ECMO (a heart/lung bypass). Although his heart did begin to beat again on its own, his brain was damaged during the whole ordeal and he lost all brain function. We had to say goodbye to our beautiful boy on Saturday, February 19th. We miss our boy terribly.....</span><br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/20819204" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Travis Tribute Video - Vimeo</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDGzb7el0mw&feature=youtu.be" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Travis Tribute Video - Youtube</a></div>
Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-37745352399341134772014-10-22T20:20:00.000-07:002014-10-22T20:20:17.070-07:00Travis 5th Birthday<div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">Happy 5th Birthday</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Travis Gary DiCarlo</span></div>
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Travis Gary DiCarlo, first son of Roger and Nicole DiCarlo, was born at San Diego Kaiser Hospital, October 23, 2009 with a Congenital Heart Defect known as Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, or HLHS. The short explanation is that Travis was born with only half of a heart. In order for him to live, a series of three operations were planned.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">Due to an infection, Travis had to have an additional open heart surgery to insert pulmonary artery bands on October 29, 2009. He had his Norwood Surgery on November 21, 2009. He was sent home on December 14, 2009 from Rady's Children Hospital of San Diego after spending his first 52 nights of life in the hospital.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">After being home for several months, Travis was due to for his next surgery in the plan, the Glenn procedure. But the life of a cardiac kid can change in an instant and life doesn't always go as planned. Due to the anatomy of his heart and some rhythm issues, Travis had what the surgeons called Norwood part 2. They replaced his Sano Shunt with a bigger one, enlarged his pulmonary arteries and installed a pacemaker. This surgery was performed on May 3, 2010. Travis went home on May 17th, 2010.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #38526a; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">Around Travis' first birthday in October his cardiologist detected some narrowing in his pulmonary artery and ordered a heart cath. The heart cath showed extensive narrowing in his aorta and his pulmonary artery. On February 17, 2011 Travis had his 4th open heart surgery. He was doing well with recovery until he suddenly went into cardiac arrest on Friday (2/18). After two hours of CPR Travis was placed on ECMO (a heart/lung bypass). Although his heart did begin to beat again on its own, his brain was damaged during the whole ordeal and he lost all brain function. We had to say goodbye to our beautiful boy on Saturday, February 19th. We miss our boy terribly.....</span><br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/20819204" target="_blank">Travis Tribute Video - Vimeo</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDGzb7el0mw&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Travis Tribute Video - Youtube</a></div>
Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-87853289251816237782014-02-18T10:20:00.003-08:002014-02-18T10:20:34.667-08:00REMEMBRANCE CHALLENGE: 3 for 3 RAK for TravisFor a few weeks I have been contemplating what I'd love to do to help honor and remember Travis' short life. My mind kept coming back to the lessons he taught me…the most important is kindness (because you never know what people are dealing with/going through). With that said, I figured the best way to get through this awful time would be to spread kindness. Would you help?<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Here is the challenge:</u></b><br />
Between today and tomorrow (Feb 18-19th) think of 3 random acts of kindness<br />
Spread and share them (via Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/128207457251243/ or e-mail)<br />
Tag #RAKforTRAV, Roger and I (if posting a photo add a short description)<br />
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The acts of kindness don't have to be big at all. Here are some ideas:<br />
Sincerely complement someone you don't know<br />
Hold the door open<br />
Buy someone a coffee<br />
Pump someone's gas<br />
Take your kids out for ice-cream<br />
Make your spouse a card<br />
Call someone and tell them you love them<br />
Make cookies for neighbors<br />
Tell someone why you are doing what you are doing….spread his name<br />
And, here is a website with more ideas… http://www.randomactsofkindness.org/kindness-ideas<br />
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I'd love to see simple conscience acts of love spread in Travis' name. Please join me in remembering our sweet, loving boy. Can't way to see the LOVE!!!!!! <br />
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<br />Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-46800726084129252112013-10-23T07:37:00.001-07:002013-10-23T07:37:14.723-07:00Happy 4th Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Travis Gary DiCarlo</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DQ-bD6q9jt0OQTKvz7uJGyN8T31Hn0X43IFl924bD-__fWjCSWub1LgxhPkt17DrxPd-cn_-mVA2U_Yjr1kbezcXJck4DU9YazlAgxs96v0skpBWyGqfx2Be740aOr7DoMMoBlPz2IE/s1600/trav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DQ-bD6q9jt0OQTKvz7uJGyN8T31Hn0X43IFl924bD-__fWjCSWub1LgxhPkt17DrxPd-cn_-mVA2U_Yjr1kbezcXJck4DU9YazlAgxs96v0skpBWyGqfx2Be740aOr7DoMMoBlPz2IE/s320/trav.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Travis Tribute Video</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/20819204" target="_blank">Travis Tribute Video - Vimeo</a></span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDGzb7el0mw&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Travis Tribute Video - Youtube</a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Travis Gary DiCarlo, first son of Roger and Nicole DiCarlo, was born at San Diego Kaiser Hospital, October 23, 2009 with a Congenital Heart Defect known as Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, or HLHS. The short explanation is that Travis was born with only half of a heart. In order for him to live, a series of three operations were planned.<br /><br /><br />Due to an infection, Travis had to have an additional open heart surgery to insert pulmonary artery bands on October 29, 2009. He had his Norwood Surgery on November 21, 2009. He was sent home on December 14, 2009 from Rady's Children Hospital of San Diego after spending his first 52 nights of life in the hospital.<br /><br /><br /><br />After being home for several months, Travis was due to for his next surgery in the plan, the Glenn procedure. But the life of a cardiac kid can change in an instant and life doesn't always go as planned. Due to the anatomy of his heart and some rhythm issues, Travis had what the surgeons called Norwood part 2. They replaced his Sano Shunt with a bigger one, enlarged his pulmonary arteries and installed a pacemaker. This surgery was performed on May 3, 2010. Travis went home on May 17th, 2010.<br /><br /><br />Around Travis' first birthday in October his cardiologist detected some narrowing in his pulmonary artery and ordered a heart cath. The heart cath showed extensive narrowing in his aorta and his pulmonary artery. On February 17, 2011 Travis had his 4th open heart surgery. He was doing well with recovery until he suddenly went into cardiac arrest on Friday (2/18). After two hours of CPR Travis was placed on ECMO (a heart/lung bypass). Although his heart did begin to beat again on its own, his brain was damaged during the whole ordeal and he lost all brain function. We had to say goodbye to our beautiful boy on Saturday, February 19th. We miss our boy terribly..... </span></div>
Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-80946202778020144782013-10-20T20:54:00.003-07:002013-10-20T20:55:34.901-07:00Can I be real with you?This is painful.<br />
<br />
It's hard.<br />
<br />
Each day, it hurts. <br />
<br />
We continue to walk around, handle our commitments, enjoy our friends and family, laugh....but, in the quiet, there is pain. A pain very real and still very present. I don't even like to be alone anymore. Too much down time leaves me reeling. <br />
<br />
It hurts me when people allude to me being negative. I KNOW I'm negative. I KNOW I fight demons every darn day. I feel pretty happy with the fact that I can function as a human being some days. MY grief manifests in weird ways. My mood can turn very dark, very quickly. I'm cynical. I overeat. I'm lonely, when people are everywhere. I worry....ALL THE TIME. I am forever waiting for the other shoe to drop. People don't get that. I've SEEN the horrors that this world can have. <br />
<br />
I held my baby boy in my arms as his heart stopped. <br />
<br />
I saw that same heart beating from INSIDE his opened chest numerous times. <br />
<br />
We stood outside his room while nurses and doctors tried their hardest to save his life.<br />
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I was told my sweet boy had no more brain function.<br />
<br />
I had to choose that enough was enough and it was time to let go.<br />
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I don't know how to live normally anymore. I can't even remember what it felt like to be joyful and worry free. I can't remember a time when I woke up and didn't have to fight with myself to make the most of the day. Through the fog of depression, I scarcely remember who I am. And, when I do....it seems like a stranger. I don't recall what it's like not to panic when I hear beeping or have an anxiety attack with the smell of soap. I don't know what it's like to watch my son grow up and the pain in watching yours is sometimes too much for me to bear. <br />
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It is what it is.<br />
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This journey ain't for the faint of heart.<br />
<br />Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-66526831099330658292013-03-03T17:17:00.001-08:002013-03-03T18:02:27.587-08:00Post-Traumatic Growth: Lessons from Travis<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wanted to post this last week around his angelversary but sometimes it just takes entirely too much energy to think through things. That is why I generally stay at surface level these days. I hate feeling too much emotion unless is positive. Negative emotions: tension, anxiety, sadness, loneliness, depression, self-consciousness...they are all there, just stuffed under the surface. All it takes is a little nudge and that flood gate releases. I was nudged today.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">---------------------------------------------</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was at a writing conference yesterday that spoke of the change in academic standards and how they are opening up students to push past their comfort zones and really analyze. I was into the whole concept until she started comparing the change to Post-Traumatic stress syndrome. I thought is was a little insulting, really, to liken something so NOT LIFE THREATENING, although important, to something that is so very real and intense. I suppose only those in the room who have ever deal with it would even realize the inappropriateness of the notion. Regardless, she had some interesting points. She spoke a little about something known as Post-Traumatic Growth. Post-Traumatic growth <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">is positive change experienced as a result of the struggle with a major life crisis or a traumatic event. Of course, this hit a cord with me because I had been mulling this post over for sometime in my head. With all the horrific memories and experiences we have gone through/continue to be challenged with, there is good. There were HUGE lessons learned. They're often hard to focus on because of the weight of the negatives but, I know they are there and it is a daily challenge for me to remember them. My lessons from Travis.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Lesson 1: Dark vs. Light</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I'm not really sure if I can articulate this lesson clearly. It's basis: there has to be dark before the sun can rise. They go together, the good/the bad. It's something that you just have to accept. The "goods" totally outweigh the bads you just have to get through to the next day. Does that make sense? Travis' 16 months with us were some of my best memories. It was a scary time because he was medically fragile but he gave me the greatest gift ever, being a mom. Our connection was/is so strong and I am so, so grateful that I was even able to experience that. It makes me sad that some people never will. You grow, you know...during the dark. It makes you stronger, more passionate, more empathetic, more loving, more open, more vulnerable, more tolerant. It's hard but I think sometimes, the lessons learned in "the dark" are the important ones!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Lesson 2: It is what it is</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Life is so rotten sometimes. People treat you rotten. You have to do things you don't want to. People say mean things. It just is what it is. You could gripe and whine and argue about your lot in life or the things that happen to you but, it won't help. There are things, that just are they way they are and you have to make the decision to deal with it or get it out of your life. You can't change people. Actually, you can't change much about anything BUT you can change you...your reactions, your next steps, your goals. Travis taught me not to dwell and whine about things. Sometimes, it is what it is.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Lesson 3: I am okay</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I joke with a friend of mine that my lips are so loose these days. I just blurt things out and often, I immediately want to reel them back in. Let me explain, I have always been super self conscious....I worry about how others view me. I feel like people tend to judge. It's natural, really, to react (on the inside) to what someone says. I think I have just always been super sensitive to that. I admit, I do it to. I take things that people say out of context, I analyze it, I fret about it, I redefine it. I hate that. But, it's natural...at least for me. Anyway, back to the lesson. I suppose I just realized that I am going to just be me and say what I'm thinking and break down a few of the walls I've been building and see what happens. It is what it is. I am what I am. I am hopeful that people will not scare away. I realize I have a nutty sense of humor...I can't help it, I'm wired that way.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Lesson 4: Emotions are okay</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">This one is in progress....</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">It's been two years since Travis died. Four years since our ordeal began. I think it was four years ago that I stopped letting people in...at least, fully in. I started to build up walls and block people out if it got to complicated. I just didn't have the bandwidth for it. I stop sharing my feelings because they were heavy and I was afraid people couldn't take them. Even when I did share, relationships changed. Probably because I changed. But, it is a lonely place, I'll tell you. It's lonely to walk around with surface level relationships. It needed to change.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I am trying to realize that it's okay to show my emotions. I say "I love you" to people when I think it. I send notes to friends. I want people to realize that they are important for whatever reason. When I feel joy, I express it. I put as much fun into things as I can. I try to initiate things even when it is so not in my nature (see #3). I feel emotions SO MUCH STRONGER than I ever did before. I care so much deeper. Travis taught me that all you have is now so make it GOOD. Share it with people. Don't be alone. You really never know when it'll be too late.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Lesson 5: Assume good</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">This is a biggie. It hurts my heart when I think of the reasons behind this lesson but it is, by far, the biggest lesson Travis has taught me. Some background...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">The call to remove Travis' breathing tube the day he coded was made by a PICU floor doctor. We had never had much contact with him and he was not a major, or really even a minor, player in Travis' care. His surgeon generally called the shots. We'd wait around and basically stalk him throughout hospital stays because he had the overall picture. He had the plan. That day "He" was in surgery...all day. That morning before surgery he shared that the plan was to let him rest and eventually try to get him off the respirator. Because his surgery had been 10 hours he wanted to let his body rest. So, we figure that evening or the next day they would extubate. It was a calm morning and everything was looking great. I stepped out to call my mom and Roger came out about 10 minutes later and said they were extubating. I was confused because it felt rushed. I'm sure you know what happened next.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">You see, the call to extubate was a judgement call. A doctor, with all the knowledge he had, decided that everything looked well enough to extubate. Was it the right call? Obviously not. Was he doing the best he could in that decisive moment? I have to believe so. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I have to assume that MOST people are generally doing the best they can. Yes, we had cause to take Travis' case to review. Yes, we are beyond angry because potentially Travis' death was a mistake. But, I can not walk through this life assuming that people are out to get others. Travis didn't. He had all the faith in the world in me...in his family...in any stranger that he came across. His smile was nondiscriminatory. I have to use his short life as a model. He showed me what it looked like to love whole-heartedly and trust in people. As a result, I always assume that people have good intentions. Even when shitty things happen, I try to remember that everyone is just doing the best that can at that moment. Is it okay to be upset and angry? Yes. Can we learn from mistakes made? Certainly. But, I really find it hard to judge or criticize others these days. It's just not fair. No one is perfect. And, when the anger flows (it ebbs and flows) I generally step back and come back to the same place...I am determined to assume good.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">A side note: It is heartbreaking when people do not extend the same courtesy to me. I figure if I can see things in this light after what I've been through, I should certainly not have to deal with this from others but, it's not the case. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Lesson #6: Chase the happy</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">It's easy to just go through the motions and never make the changes you know you need to. I had to. I wasn't happy. I needed some major changes in my life. They are in process. Roger and I are chasing the dreams we initially had and we are getting back to doing the things that make us happy. I feel so much lighter these days and as a result relationships are blooming...Roger and I are reconnecting, friendships are growing, I've grow closer to my sister. All great things. I am determined to find a little happy in everything I do...Travis wouldn't want anything less from me.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">And finally, </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Lesson #7: There is no greater love...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">than that between a parent and a child. It is unbelievable. It is unbreakable. Even in loss...we are still connected by an invisible string. Because this love is SO strong. I spend my life in two planes.....here and there. It takes a lot of energy but it is necessary. I need him. And, I can imagine....he feels the same. Until we are reunited....I will spend eternity in both lives...here for my girls and there (in spirit) with him.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">"Grief is the price we pay for love"</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-23914840326916236212013-02-20T15:04:00.002-08:002013-02-20T15:04:56.535-08:00One Final Surgery(reposted from last year)<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">The transplant team was supposed to call us and give us a two hour window in which we could decide to go back down to the hospital and walk with Travis to his final surgery. Waking up the next morning, I knew something was wrong. We hadn't heard anything. We waited until early afternoon to call. The coordinator apologized for the delay but said they had found a match at UCLA and that they would be able to use his kidney and liver. Through the pain of losing my boy, I was thankful that he would live on in someone else. We headed down to the hospital to say one last goodbye. Our parents came too. We all took a few more minutes with our boy. Even though I know he was already an angel, it felt good to sit by him and hold his hand. It felt good to remind him we loved him. I made sure to tell him that his last surgery wouldn't hurt and that he was such a hero to help someone else out. Roger and I walked with the nurses and the everyone else as we proceeded to the OR. Although it was late in the evening, patients and parents still watched as this huge parade went by. I wanted to yell at them. I wanted to tell everyone what we sacrificing. I wanted to tell them that my beautiful boy was giving us all one final act of bravery and strength. We stopped at the elevator and the head OR nurse said. We need to stop here. I kissed his hand and they wheeled him away. The was the last time I saw my baby boy. The boy who had brought us 16 months of joy. The boy who taught me what true love is. The sweet boy who had to fight so hard from the moment he was born. It wasn't fair.</span><br />
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The social worker asked if we wanted the blanket he was wrapped in. She asked us to wait in the lobby. We sat there....in the same lobby where just a couple days ago we had waited with our boy for his 4th surgery. He was so full of life. We were so full of hope.</div>
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Now, we were all empty.</div>
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The social worker and transplant coordinators came out with some things for us. Among them, the blanket he last was wrapped in. They also presented us with a medal. The medal signified that Travis was a hero and gave the ultimate sacrifice. They promised to call once they all arrived at UCLA. With our family, we walked out of the hospital. We were all broken. I'm not even sure how we had the strength to physically move. I just wanted to stay there. If I didn't leave maybe all this would go away.</div>
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We went home and spent that evening sleeping/sobbing/waiting for a call. The next morning we received a call from the transplant coordinator. She had horrible news. Once they got to UCLA it was determined that his organs were sicker than they had thought. They were unable to transplant them. She assured us that Travis was still a hero and will always be for our choice to donate. Our hearts sank. As if things could get any worse. She mentioned that they would still use his eyes at the eye bank for research and such. His beautiful green/blue sparkly eyes. I remember just being a mess. How could God not at least give us this gift? I GAVE UP a chance to hold my boy wire free for this most precious gift and it didn't even happen. I still have such anger over this. I know that we tried our best.</div>
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The last several posts are some of the details of Travis' last days. Living it was painful. Revisiting it is also painful. I guess I just wanted people to see just all my sweet guy went through. How strong he really was an how much our family sacrificed. These memories run through my head often. It is a miracle that grieving parents can even get out of bed, let alone try and function. We are constantly haunted by this....constantly reminded.....constantly in pain.....constantly living half in this world and half with our baby in spirit. It is exhausting.</div>
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Missing you more than you will ever know Mr. Man. <3 div=""><div>
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Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-36832362964287230562013-02-19T12:49:00.000-08:002013-02-19T12:49:04.456-08:00The Worst Kind of Wake Up Call<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">After a long emotional day, I sent Roger to the Ronald McDonald house to get some rest. I'd stay with Travis until 5am and then we'd switch off. We had two nurses that night (two are needed to run the ECMO circuit). One of them was a nurse Travis had in the NICU. Loved her. The other was a complete jerk to me. She barely said one word to me the whole night. She didn't offer me a blanket, didn't offer me water, didn't try to small talk....nothing. I held Travis' had with my right hand all night and played on my computer with my left. I remember watching episodes of Tough Love on HULU. I was so tired but couldn't bare to leave that room. I honestly thought that even though Travis coded and looked terrible, he'd pull through. I knew a lot of storied about kids on ECMO that came off. That was my hope. We just had to wait it out until the next day when they'd run tests. Roger got there at 5. Before I left, I told the grumpy nurse how I felt. I told her that even though Travis was the patient, she could have been a little more caring towards us. I told her that after a super horrible day that last thing I needed was a bitchy nurse.</span><br />
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I left and walked wearily across the street to our room. My head hit the pillow and I was out. I had been asleep for maybe 20 minutes when I got the call.</div>
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Roger said to get over there right away. He couldn't even really talk. I just remember him saying his eyes weren't responding to light. They were transporting him to CT scan with the ECMO circuit (which is a HUGE deal). I jumped out of bed and rushed back over. We waited as a huge team of people came for transport. They closed the unit down. It's not easy to move someone on life support. I remember waiting in the hall as the scan took place and walking back behind this parade of people. Other families and patients watching us with fear. Full of fear ourselves.</div>
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It would take several hours later for the neurologist to come and give the report. They brought us back into the conference room we were in the day before. Dr. Lamberti and the ICU doctor told us the worst news one could ever hear. There was too much damage to his brain. IT was swelling and they did not see anything the could do. We had to say goodbye. The next few hours were spent talking to people. Social workers, transplant people (we wanted to donate his organs), doctors, our families that came to say goodbye. The social worker brought in a box of memory makers. We took fingerprints and cut some of his sweet hair off. We took pictures. I asked to hold him. They said okay but looked fearful. In order to transplant his viable organs, he had to remain on the ECMO circuit until harvesting. And, the ECMO circuit was quite specific with placement. One wrong move and it could mess things up. The nice nurse from the day before was determined. We let Roger go first. He sat in a chair by the bed and held Travis briefly. It wasn't the snuggle we wanted. It was holding our sweet boy with tubes and wires and machines with just our arms straight out. Then, it was my turn. I sat down and they worked hard to get him transferred to me. Once things were set they set him down and alarms started beeping....they had to reposition him and couldn't get it right until he was flat back in bed. I gave up my last chance to hold my baby so that his organs could help someone else.</div>
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Late that evening we said our goodbyes and left. We left with him still on the machine and the transplant team working hard to find matches. We went home. To an emptier home.</div>
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I remember just feeling so tired and numb. I remember hoping that his organs would be a match and that someday we could meet the person who they went to and tell them about our miracle baby. I remember hugging Addie Sue....so much pain I felt for her. She was so young and never really got to know her brother. I remember worrying about my mom and my sister. If they were okay. And, I remember falling asleep praying it was all a nightmare.</div>
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....continued tomorrow.......</div>
Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-27311666277031997412013-02-18T20:33:00.000-08:002013-02-18T20:33:28.921-08:00Our lives were forever altered...(reposted from last year)<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 15px;">It had been a smooth night in recovery. All day the doctors were toying with the idea of extubation. I went out to call my mom for an update. I saw Roger walking out a few minutes later. He said they were extubating. I was mad it happened so quick. We weren't let back in for awhile. I knew something was up. He had a difficult extubation and the nurse told us we needed to be real quiet and keep him calm. He started getting agitated. She told me to hold him and try to calm him down. She gently set him in my arms and his body went stiff. He coded.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 15px;">She grabbed him from me and told us to go in the hall. People started running. I heard people yelling "DiCarlo's coding". His surgeon came running. Lots of commotion then the social worker ushered us into a nearby conference room. It felt like forever that we were in there....praying, watching the rain on the small window. The social workers called our family. Soon, they were there with us. They put him on ECMO. The nurse and Dr. Lamberti came in with tears. She said they thought they were able to keep good p waves for the entire CPR process (all 2 hours of it)....and that his heart started again. Those were good signs in a situation as horrible as this. They'd keep him on ecmo and let him rest. The next day they would run test to see what effect everything had. We were so hopeful.......</span></span></span></div>
Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-25719239974922763932013-02-17T08:52:00.002-08:002013-02-17T08:52:35.271-08:002 Years<br />
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One Year</h3>
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Two years. 760 days. 17520 hours…..since I last held my baby. We were terrified driving to the hospital. We had a bad feeling about it. We were there early and Travis was the cutest in his jammies snuggling with us as we waited to take him to pre-op. He wanted NOTHING to do with the blood pressure machine, the pulse ox or ANYONE in scrubs. He watched elmo with us while we waited for the paperwork and call time. We kissed him goodbye and he cried in the arms of the nurse all the way down the hall. We kept it together until the doors shut. <span></span>It would be 10 hours until we saw him again. His surgeon was haggard looking but pleased with the surgery. How could we have known that things would change so drastically during extubation. We would never see him awake and alert again. 48 hours later, he was gone.<span></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p>It is so hard to live with this pain.<span> </span>Nobody can understand it.<span> </span>It affects every aspect of your life.<span> </span>It rips the joy from everything.<span> </span>It changes you.<span> </span>It damages you.<span> </span>It cannot be repaired.<span> </span>People ignore it.<span></span></div>
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But we have to live it.<span></span></div>
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We live it in every family photo.<span> </span>We live it in every other CHD warrior.<span> </span>We live it in every smile Addie gives us…her smile so achingly like her Bro-Bros.<span> </span>We live it in all the “What Ifs”.<span> </span>We live it in all the regret.<span> </span>We live it every time anyone asks about our kids, or how many kids we have.<span> </span>We live it when people talk about their son(s) as if we never had one.<span> </span>We live it in every birthday.<span> </span>In every little boy we see.<span> </span>In every one of those shattered dreams we had and all the hope we held.</div>
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I miss my boy.<span></span></div>
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The depth of that statement is more than I can ever fully express.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jv8OiQfqK3ZjQjBiFgI9jLBUJ-H2EtzedT6JHNjFlZDhALt_DLZmrnT-5_f2hmbGY18LWqfDz8lE8Xa5mwccaptTM7fwTI1nyl_zzglfL_A8e80qqq3ODJ-52Gwj1zcOIqm9SZ07Cdt-/s1600/183516_1786052725632_1068953977_32039941_6956674_n.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709971682699850354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jv8OiQfqK3ZjQjBiFgI9jLBUJ-H2EtzedT6JHNjFlZDhALt_DLZmrnT-5_f2hmbGY18LWqfDz8lE8Xa5mwccaptTM7fwTI1nyl_zzglfL_A8e80qqq3ODJ-52Gwj1zcOIqm9SZ07Cdt-/s320/183516_1786052725632_1068953977_32039941_6956674_n.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; position: relative; text-align: center; width: 214px;" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">
Watching Elmo and holding onto his Brobee toy.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8nTXmMTPOL-ft324ffu2ZmIvUQ1b7WWC9532YdJ29gpgCjBlESiQADGRfiOPFx0FmyaOHDyl8K9YfSMjZa7X57b9dqDcUFulefp1UG98qLwzZdgGyaxRQztyTQbwh2SupoQ8zaz_kxEd/s1600/183033_1786055125692_1068953977_32039950_757407_n.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709971601684171010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8nTXmMTPOL-ft324ffu2ZmIvUQ1b7WWC9532YdJ29gpgCjBlESiQADGRfiOPFx0FmyaOHDyl8K9YfSMjZa7X57b9dqDcUFulefp1UG98qLwzZdgGyaxRQztyTQbwh2SupoQ8zaz_kxEd/s320/183033_1786055125692_1068953977_32039950_757407_n.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 214px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; position: relative; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">
Daddy and his boy waiting to go back to pre-op</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPXtQ44LMx3t4f4wQH75NP12tJa8qE9T7slSD5vLgS0QROZlwRh6nygI5wpN9xR-8aIc2VRn2tn42Ht6XHpsSnaoSso1BLbNe0SmahmuALLaUJCIzpfNdaCvbBswba8VhXQeI2uYTJl7O/s1600/182610_1786051525602_1068953977_32039935_2018980_n.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709971509639524626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPXtQ44LMx3t4f4wQH75NP12tJa8qE9T7slSD5vLgS0QROZlwRh6nygI5wpN9xR-8aIc2VRn2tn42Ht6XHpsSnaoSso1BLbNe0SmahmuALLaUJCIzpfNdaCvbBswba8VhXQeI2uYTJl7O/s320/182610_1786051525602_1068953977_32039935_2018980_n.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; position: relative; text-align: center; width: 214px;" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;">
Trying to entertain my boy so he wasn't scared.</div>
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Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-25244101904618848572013-02-03T18:35:00.004-08:002013-02-03T18:35:50.841-08:004-6 minutesThere are days when even normal activity is haunted by the horrible memories of your final days.<br />
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Friday at work, I attended a CPR/First Aid class. This is something I've done many times. It didn't even occur to me how difficult it would be to talk about the things that class includes after I lived through your nightmare. <br />
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4-6 minutes....the time it takes for brain damage to occur without oxygen<br />
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The instructor kept talking about it. So nonchalantly. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to scream at everyone there for squirming at the thought of actually having to deal with a scenario like this. I hate that I live with this constant internal battle not to lose my mind at everyday things. <br />
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The day you coded played through my mind in slow motion...... the doctors, the beeping, CPR, the rush in and out, the yelling, the nurse with tears in her eyes saying that she had good "p-waves" the whole time they gave CPR. <br />
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40 mins of CPR....too much time...<br />
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.....the lone window with rain dripping down as we waited, and waited....your surgeon and his team walking in looking haggard.....defeat in their eyes.....<br />
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I tried to deep breathe and look down as the damn video showed children pretending to be unconscious and people coming to their rescue.<br />
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....the ECMO tubes in your neck, your poor bruised body....holding your hand.....praying for good news in the coming day.....<br />
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God, I wish there had been good news. <br />
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This life is hard buddy. It's so hard without you.<br />
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4-6 mins....enough time to completely change your lifeNicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-47560271980859066452012-10-29T20:19:00.001-07:002012-10-30T22:01:54.697-07:00Through Rose Colored GlassesYou'd never know how difficult it is to not expect the worst...unless you've been in my shoes. <br />
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Once you're on this side of life things are different. This side....this "I've lived the nightmare" side. This less than rosy colored view of the world. It's tainted. It's suspicious. It's worst case scenarios. It's I'm not enough.<br />
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I want to be one of THOSE people. People who always seem happy. People who can always look at the bright side. I admire those who have gone through heavy things and can still slap on a smile.<br />
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I try.<br />
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At times, things seem as good as they can be. I am really enjoying my new job and coworkers. My girls are growing and thriving. Roger and I are together. We are living. Travis shows me he's here with all these interesting connections he is creating and revealing to me. <br />
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It's sad that even with all that I am always on edge. Always waiting for the bad news. Always anticipating negative responses. Anticipating the break in relationships. Expecting people to tire of my life and the history I carry with me. Maybe that is why I am so emotional. <br />
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I feel things so deeply. I try not to show it. My face is WAY too expressive. <br />
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I have good people in my life. Truly. People who just show up, bring coffee, call/text. People I've only recently met who ask about Travis or offer a hug at just the right time. People who seek me out to check on me or just chat. They are there on tough days...on not so tough days. I don't have to ask. <br />
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Yet, I catastrophize everything. Why?<br />
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I look for the bad in things. I worry that my relationships with people are not being genuine. I worry that I am not living up to expectations...CONSTANTLY. I put so much stock into proving myself....as a mother, as a wife, as an employee, as a friend, as a woman. It is so much pressure. It's taxing. I wish I could just trust that I AM ENOUGH. <br />
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I want to go back to my rosy, even if naive, view of the world. I want to live in that world where things like this don't happen to people.<br />
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</b></span></span>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-68571300199767057572012-10-24T06:34:00.001-07:002012-10-24T06:36:12.795-07:00Travis Gary DiCarlo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Travis Gary DiCarlo</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DQ-bD6q9jt0OQTKvz7uJGyN8T31Hn0X43IFl924bD-__fWjCSWub1LgxhPkt17DrxPd-cn_-mVA2U_Yjr1kbezcXJck4DU9YazlAgxs96v0skpBWyGqfx2Be740aOr7DoMMoBlPz2IE/s1600/trav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DQ-bD6q9jt0OQTKvz7uJGyN8T31Hn0X43IFl924bD-__fWjCSWub1LgxhPkt17DrxPd-cn_-mVA2U_Yjr1kbezcXJck4DU9YazlAgxs96v0skpBWyGqfx2Be740aOr7DoMMoBlPz2IE/s320/trav.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Travis Tribute Video</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://vimeo.com/20819204" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">http://vimeo.com/20819204</span></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Travis Gary DiCarlo, first son of Roger and Nicole DiCarlo, was born at San Diego Kaiser Hospital, October 23, 2009 with a Congenital Heart Defect known as Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, or HLHS. The short explanation is that Travis was born with only half of a heart. In order for him to live, a series of three operations were planned.<br /><br /><br />Due to an infection, Travis had to have an additional open heart surgery to insert pulmonary artery bands on October 29, 2009. He had his Norwood Surgery on November 21, 2009. He was sent home on December 14, 2009 from Rady's Children Hospital of San Diego after spending his first 52 nights of life in the hospital.<br /><br /><br /><br />After being home for several months, Travis was due to for his next surgery in the plan, the Glenn procedure. But the life of a cardiac kid can change in an instant and life doesn't always go as planned. Due to the anatomy of his heart and some rhythm issues, Travis had what the surgeons called Norwood part 2. They replaced his Sano Shunt with a bigger one, enlarged his pulmonary arteries and installed a pacemaker. This surgery was performed on May 3, 2010. Travis went home on May 17th, 2010.<br /><br /><br />Around Travis' first birthday in October his cardiologist detected some narrowing in his pulmonary artery and ordered a heart cath. The heart cath showed extensive narrowing in his aorta and his pulmonary artery. On February 17, 2011 Travis had his 4th open heart surgery. He was doing well with recovery until he suddenly went into cardiac arrest on Friday (2/18). After two hours of CPR Travis was placed on ECMO (a heart/lung bypass). Although his heart did begin to beat again on its own, his brain was damaged during the whole ordeal and he lost all brain function. We had to say goodbye to our beautiful boy on Saturday, February 19th. We miss our boy terribly..... </span></div>
Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-19869029790063606822012-10-23T20:38:00.001-07:002012-10-30T22:02:31.545-07:00Happy 3rd Birthday TravisToday would have marked Travis' third birthday. We celebrated his day by doing some of his favorite things. Tomorrow, we honor his birthday by serving dinner at the Ronald McDonald house and hosting a book drive for the patients of Children's Hospital. We love and miss our son. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpXkwqSjet4R29uDCMh5qHsxEh8PsyPhZb_ifXfCVBUts6FVhD2tEbx9nT98W23xivSjUEVZ3jJhAEBtrsf6wmD84fC1kxjg6CFKXnereGUFirQDVhSJm15hdT96Aw6hv82izeflOKGM/s1600/407648_4389917019895_2082630402_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpXkwqSjet4R29uDCMh5qHsxEh8PsyPhZb_ifXfCVBUts6FVhD2tEbx9nT98W23xivSjUEVZ3jJhAEBtrsf6wmD84fC1kxjg6CFKXnereGUFirQDVhSJm15hdT96Aw6hv82izeflOKGM/s400/407648_4389917019895_2082630402_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Addison who is almost 2 letting out Balloons for her brother.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9T14YZzqWgJYa67eIY27cnSPu-Kdr9HpM0jhPT74o1bWdc9BF6VquIB_ZmBJON2T7NIDEcs6A87fu8s28fRigp0zuvHiQFslX3WRKUuMpXmZR8LWiqA4ImosZ2ATE9w8nL7HC5yyag8/s1600/545556_4389913579809_1698793023_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9T14YZzqWgJYa67eIY27cnSPu-Kdr9HpM0jhPT74o1bWdc9BF6VquIB_ZmBJON2T7NIDEcs6A87fu8s28fRigp0zuvHiQFslX3WRKUuMpXmZR8LWiqA4ImosZ2ATE9w8nL7HC5yyag8/s400/545556_4389913579809_1698793023_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Nicole sending out a special balloon to her Travis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJT6JTvANQtMw7x5UybMFGfWZxawCWMfRq3Xs8YQKBC6Y1bCX6ge8itPCZOhsKGhkfYYIlQJ4zvxL5xiYoUSkeoUOxTNUsrc4Qg3EZpZxqo3Gd_PO1TJl0YyD-qVKMiyDCcHDp_R-w1Y/s1600/564922_4389916699887_1079529324_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJT6JTvANQtMw7x5UybMFGfWZxawCWMfRq3Xs8YQKBC6Y1bCX6ge8itPCZOhsKGhkfYYIlQJ4zvxL5xiYoUSkeoUOxTNUsrc4Qg3EZpZxqo3Gd_PO1TJl0YyD-qVKMiyDCcHDp_R-w1Y/s400/564922_4389916699887_1079529324_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Daddy and Baby Brynn (4 1/2 months old) sending balloons to T.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTusVQ8zATfjSKtVVqt17i0iqcXfeSTj2MFuKer9WXLJC5E2po1sLr5K_C36Z8jqE9ZCjl8BgwGUbmsL3NC5NWiPwtCzHL5zcnBhV-hFV99lq7-Lz_c2YK_PevuooOQIG5YChcqSZClQ/s1600/550265_4389594691837_778714918_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTusVQ8zATfjSKtVVqt17i0iqcXfeSTj2MFuKer9WXLJC5E2po1sLr5K_C36Z8jqE9ZCjl8BgwGUbmsL3NC5NWiPwtCzHL5zcnBhV-hFV99lq7-Lz_c2YK_PevuooOQIG5YChcqSZClQ/s400/550265_4389594691837_778714918_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Addie had swim class tonight and instead of canceling, we thought it was a great way to honor Travis,</div><div style="text-align: center;">because he loved the water so much.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cjJ2BWp7fRM9ClTFCjgWuPIDqQorhjbxJD8ehsTkt9UK48kCiijPLEmugljx-lgZssMpZE8eJBZgk9Z_mORCSkSggSvn46ATSH8oZDkxUyv5M3GvAuwAd1hUkI1-BdgDUtleL_03uwY/s1600/DSC05791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cjJ2BWp7fRM9ClTFCjgWuPIDqQorhjbxJD8ehsTkt9UK48kCiijPLEmugljx-lgZssMpZE8eJBZgk9Z_mORCSkSggSvn46ATSH8oZDkxUyv5M3GvAuwAd1hUkI1-BdgDUtleL_03uwY/s400/DSC05791.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Travis loved the water.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mI40zmJq5O5nBSitWIodovJ75XZ3d2FLZszWu5auIx8oyxoPCfTimzcSjQsOsxsrWkoU05hPy6rNOBAaiKTCcU2NxCnBLNtK4tHuCVh9Bdij8TPhHNugZzbKNzzkNP74hbaA4ryuoZ8/s1600/DSC05957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mI40zmJq5O5nBSitWIodovJ75XZ3d2FLZszWu5auIx8oyxoPCfTimzcSjQsOsxsrWkoU05hPy6rNOBAaiKTCcU2NxCnBLNtK4tHuCVh9Bdij8TPhHNugZzbKNzzkNP74hbaA4ryuoZ8/s400/DSC05957.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Travis at swim class. He made every one smile</div>Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-70526868622273507672012-10-06T12:21:00.001-07:002012-10-06T12:21:08.282-07:00Simple, Painful thingsIt hurts my heart at the tiny details of you that I can't exactly recall. Simple things like changing a boys diaper vs. a girls. I have a boy...a beautiful, missed boy. But, I can't exactly recall the details. That hurts my heart more than I can explain. Why can't I remember those details...the happy ones? The horrible memories haunt me. I can vividly recall those moments. It's all unfair.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-86470947476488128722012-09-24T21:48:00.001-07:002012-09-24T21:48:21.340-07:00Someone Always Says It BetterRead this on a fellow baby loss mom's blog:<br />
<br />
"I feel disrespected. I feel abandoned. I feel rejected by the people in my life who were supposed to be there for me when this all went down. I feel cheated out if my grief because I am so worried about what everyone else thinks."<br />
<br />
I feel the same.Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-12864479456804837592012-09-23T21:03:00.003-07:002012-09-23T21:03:36.839-07:00What Grief Looks Like
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been wanting to get my thoughts out on this subject
for awhile now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was spurred by
a friend’s comment about how much I sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
stung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really wasn’t that big
of a deal…but, at the same time, it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You see sleeping is one of the ways I deal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think people forget that we are grieving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are in pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pain manifests in strange ways. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m tired.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spend my hours being mom to my living children, trying to
keep up with my house, my responsibilities. Trying to look like a gentle rain
when my insides feel like a hurricane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t cry in front of people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I won’t let myself often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
wait until the day is done and I am alone in my car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of the little moments from the day where my heart aches
for the “family I should have” catch up with me and I cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes so much energy to get
through each day without falling apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, I am just exhausted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is what grief looks like.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s feeling uncomfortable with touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prolonged hugs, lingering handshakes, a
hand on my back….they make me cringe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It all reminds me of the days in the hospital waiting for news from the
surgeries.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s getting annoyed hearing people say how amazing we
are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We aren’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just do what you have to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would to if you had to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have two girls here that need
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to work and provide
for our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have no
choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t tell you how much
I’d LOVE to not get out of bed each day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to find
some reason to carry on for my girls and for Travis…because he didn’t get
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s laughter and joy heavily weighted in an aching
sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s watching our girls
grow and knowing how we were robbed of our boy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s jealousy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s looking at friends with their healthy kids and aching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s looking at three-year old boys and
wondering…what would Travis look like today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s being angry that we have to walk around with this heavy
load on our hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s anger .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anger at hearing heart moms praise God for answering their prayers…as if
we didn’t pray enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if we
didn’t beg God to let us keep our boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As if we were not worthy enough for God to answer OUR prayers. It’s the
screams that I hold inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
fighting to resist the urge to yell at people that he was special too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He deserved answered prayers!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s an awkwardness that looms in every conversation…with
those that know, with those that don’t, with strangers when they ask questions
about our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the
elephant in the room. It’s a million decisions about how to handle situations….
what do I tell my new class when we have family events and my son is
missing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s loneliness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s figuring out that really, you are all you have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s realizing that people can’t handle
your pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s trying to put
energy into friendships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all
feel like such work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Conversations
seem so unnatural. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s cancelling plans because most of
the time it is just too much effort. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s zoning out of conversations because I just can’t
focus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s forgetting
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s feeling
disorganized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s over eating. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s consuming.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s ongoing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s deeper than you can even imagine.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-7223074851902178612012-08-26T13:36:00.001-07:002012-08-26T13:36:24.301-07:00Time Flies, but pain doesn't go away.It has been crazy busy for the DiCarlo Family the past few months. <br />
<br />
Quick Recap:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_otKeVx0kX3y4phuMAyRtyFcRGa1KfAq6O7-Ke60CV9xwwK4wxBazGLIZ4dIUEHCz1M7xv33ow_jxv9vwGSmV5b5NVGejSfha-8fcy01rht-oIzAKJJ-E_HvqIVhV_0PH-aoArFdn_o/s1600/IMG_2653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_otKeVx0kX3y4phuMAyRtyFcRGa1KfAq6O7-Ke60CV9xwwK4wxBazGLIZ4dIUEHCz1M7xv33ow_jxv9vwGSmV5b5NVGejSfha-8fcy01rht-oIzAKJJ-E_HvqIVhV_0PH-aoArFdn_o/s320/IMG_2653.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Brynn Kristina DiCarlo was born June 1st, 2012 (Above)</li>
<li>We moved .5 miles to get a fresh start. Could not stand the thought of giving Travis' room to baby Brynn</li>
<li>Nicole got a new teaching job in Poway Unified School District. She is now teaching 5th grade.</li>
<li>Addison is now almost 2 and is such a firecracker. She has all these little quirks that remind us of Travis all the time and it just makes us smile. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VL92iVZmqcDY0V0EzRsEKFZN5oilihRWnF9YKuIGTmFQKKs7ot3hisBSTrO8AuhK5H1hPPpzGV6Ve2Bm8U76nPJW0tG31hZnLbSccuqSdJPDujlNIQGT-or4lhL2HeAfkV96wrxKMBc/s1600/IMG_2554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VL92iVZmqcDY0V0EzRsEKFZN5oilihRWnF9YKuIGTmFQKKs7ot3hisBSTrO8AuhK5H1hPPpzGV6Ve2Bm8U76nPJW0tG31hZnLbSccuqSdJPDujlNIQGT-or4lhL2HeAfkV96wrxKMBc/s320/IMG_2554.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We are just trying to live life the best that we can. There isn't a day that goes by that we don't think of our boy. We have a wall in our new home to display all of Travis' favorite stuff and things that remind us of him. It also has the quote "An Angel Watches Over Us" This keeps him just a little closer to our hearts some days.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmZ4YEDIvXa3jxKYi14ZNd1CxhA8jospJPGQUDR9uSIi4cGjnUZ3ulUkYM8-xMsrMXvxU2GFl-q39ENPzV_n_TVQZjPfxBHNfL8mN4voYdA8WdVZwm6qn617lu9W0FNtYi11ijJiL8_8/s1600/twall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmZ4YEDIvXa3jxKYi14ZNd1CxhA8jospJPGQUDR9uSIi4cGjnUZ3ulUkYM8-xMsrMXvxU2GFl-q39ENPzV_n_TVQZjPfxBHNfL8mN4voYdA8WdVZwm6qn617lu9W0FNtYi11ijJiL8_8/s320/twall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As for now, life goes on. The frequency of people that talk to us about Travis has gone down and that makes us sad. But we are always open to spread his story and TEAM TRAVIS will live on forever.</div>
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Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-74229675164888842392012-02-20T20:48:00.000-08:002012-02-20T22:08:18.056-08:00One final surgeryThe transplant team was supposed to call us and give us a two hour window in which we could decide to go back down to the hospital and walk with Travis to his final surgery. Waking up the next morning, I knew something was wrong. We hadn't heard anything. We waited until early afternoon to call. The coordinator apologized for the delay but said they had found a match at UCLA and that they would be able to use his kidney and liver. Through the pain of losing my boy, I was thankful that he would live on in someone else. We headed down to the hospital to say one last goodbye. Our parents came too. We all took a few more minutes with our boy. Even though I know he was already an angel, it felt good to sit by him and hold his hand. It felt good to remind him we loved him. I made sure to tell him that his last surgery wouldn't hurt and that he was such a hero to help someone else out. Roger and I walked with the nurses and the everyone else as we proceeded to the OR. Although it was late in the evening, patients and parents still watched as this huge parade went by. I wanted to yell at them. I wanted to tell everyone what we sacrificing. I wanted to tell them that my beautiful boy was giving us all one final act of bravery and strength. We stopped at the elevator and the head OR nurse said. We need to stop here. I kissed his hand and they wheeled him away. The was the last time I saw my baby boy. The boy who had brought us 16 months of joy. The boy who taught me what true love is. The sweet boy who had to fight so hard from the moment he was born. It wasn't fair.<div><br /></div><div>The social worker asked if we wanted the blanket he was wrapped in. She asked us to wait in the lobby. We sat there....in the same lobby where just a couple days ago we had waited with our boy for his 4th surgery. He was so full of life. We were so full of hope. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, we were all empty.</div><div><br /></div><div>The social worker and transplant coordinators came out with some things for us. Among them, the blanket he last was wrapped in. They also presented us with a medal. The medal signified that Travis was a hero and gave the ultimate sacrifice. They promised to call once they all arrived at UCLA. With our family, we walked out of the hospital. We were all broken. I'm not even sure how we had the strength to physically move. I just wanted to stay there. If I didn't leave maybe all this would go away.</div><div><br /></div><div>We went home and spent that evening sleeping/sobbing/waiting for a call. The next morning we received a call from the transplant coordinator. She had horrible news. Once they got to UCLA it was determined that his organs were sicker than they had thought. They were unable to transplant them. She assured us that Travis was still a hero and will always be for our choice to donate. Our hearts sank. As if things could get any worse. She mentioned that they would still use his eyes at the eye bank for research and such. His beautiful green/blue sparkly eyes. I remember just being a mess. How could God not at least give us this gift? I GAVE UP a chance to hold my boy wire free for this most precious gift and it didn't even happen. I still have such anger over this. I know that we tried our best. </div><div><br /></div><div>**********</div><div><br /></div><div>The last several posts are some of the details of Travis' last days. Living it was painful. Revisiting it is also painful. I guess I just wanted people to see just all my sweet guy went through. How strong he really was an how much our family sacrificed. These memories run through my head often. It is a miracle that grieving parents can even get out of bed, let alone try and function. We are constantly haunted by this....constantly reminded.....constantly in pain.....constantly living half in this world and half with our baby in spirit. It is exhausting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Missing you more than you will ever know Mr. Man. <3<3<3</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-45590000092521628642012-02-19T21:56:00.000-08:002012-02-19T22:20:11.759-08:00Balloons for Travis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTTCOJOgV2mtrlDZo5qW7j8bzrdL4xrIuXHbzrnEyqT23ViYZ8O110qYcu5E5Xk5dYkCtqb3fGlnUAWjNodYl_YC_ggl2PEPjZoINmnmVJbkejYjjlO0LvkA-aRw2tVOnJqtX0IEZnHI/s1600/DSC_0026.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTTCOJOgV2mtrlDZo5qW7j8bzrdL4xrIuXHbzrnEyqT23ViYZ8O110qYcu5E5Xk5dYkCtqb3fGlnUAWjNodYl_YC_ggl2PEPjZoINmnmVJbkejYjjlO0LvkA-aRw2tVOnJqtX0IEZnHI/s400/DSC_0026.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711094334149688418" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Addison Sue honoring her brother by sending him a balloon</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4At-kiLOBiQ5yIiHnSJeofpwekqjEuh0x9QNZ44Kt5cudw4K8TlFLw4nZ_T67_6S22GFqa7I8q_5BXXzE6obsnwaAvgnYvcCfcpkQfO7KYzR9yd-0JXy6H_q4yNpsrnZW6ANWUJE76zE/s1600/Travistag2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4At-kiLOBiQ5yIiHnSJeofpwekqjEuh0x9QNZ44Kt5cudw4K8TlFLw4nZ_T67_6S22GFqa7I8q_5BXXzE6obsnwaAvgnYvcCfcpkQfO7KYzR9yd-0JXy6H_q4yNpsrnZW6ANWUJE76zE/s400/Travistag2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711093230942443362" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#cc6600;"><u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Balloons-for-Travis/270717869663446?sk=wall&filter=12">Balloons for Travis</a></u></span>, the Facebook page, is a tribute to the life of Travis Gary DiCarlo and a place for all of Trav's family and friends to remember him and his influence on our lives. Please share your photographs from your balloon release or tribute in how you remembered Travis today. We've also asked those who find the Rememberance Tags to log onto <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#5588aa;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Balloons-for-Travis/270717869663446?sk=wall&filter=12">Balloons for Trav</a></span> and post where the tag was found. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;">tinyurl.com/balloonsfortrav</span></div>Coach DiCarlohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02474570706347354065noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4626078663141874216.post-5848841060681400102012-02-19T05:00:00.000-08:002012-02-19T05:00:00.665-08:00The worst kind of wake up call.After a long emotional day, I sent Roger to the Ronald McDonald house to get some rest. I'd stay with Travis until 5am and then we'd switch off. We had two nurses that night (two are needed to run the ECMO circuit). One of them was a nurse Travis had in the NICU. Loved her. The other was a complete jerk to me. She barely said one word to me the whole night. She didn't offer me a blanket, didn't offer me water, didn't try to small talk....nothing. I held Travis' had with my right hand all night and played on my computer with my left. I remember watching episodes of Tough Love on HULU. I was so tired but couldn't bare to leave that room. I honestly thought that even though Travis coded and looked terrible, he'd pull through. I knew a lot of storied about kids on ECMO that came off. That was my hope. We just had to wait it out until the next day when they'd run tests. Roger got there at 5. Before I left, I told the grumpy nurse how I felt. I told her that even though Travis was the patient, she could have been a little more caring towards us. I told her that after a super horrible day that last thing I needed was a bitchy nurse. <div><br /></div><div>I left and walked wearily across the street to our room. My head hit the pillow and I was out. I had been asleep for maybe 20 minutes when I got the call.</div><div><br /></div><div>Roger said to get over there right away. He couldn't even really talk. I just remember him saying his eyes weren't responding to light. They were transporting him to CT scan with the ECMO circuit (which is a HUGE deal). I jumped out of bed and rushed back over. We waited as a huge team of people came for transport. They closed the unit down. It's not easy to move someone on life support. I remember waiting in the hall as the scan took place and walking back behind this parade of people. Other families and patients watching us with fear. Full of fear ourselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>It would take several hours later for the neurologist to come and give the report. They brought us back into the conference room we were in the day before. Dr. Lamberti and the ICU doctor told us the worst news one could ever hear. There was too much damage to his brain. IT was swelling and they did not see anything the could do. We had to say goodbye. The next few hours were spent talking to people. Social workers, transplant people (we wanted to donate his organs), doctors, our families that came to say goodbye. The social worker brought in a box of memory makers. We took fingerprints and cut some of his sweet hair off. We took pictures. I asked to hold him. They said okay but looked fearful. In order to transplant his viable organs, he had to remain on the ECMO circuit until harvesting. And, the ECMO circuit was quite specific with placement. One wrong move and it could mess things up. The nice nurse from the day before was determined. We let Roger go first. He sat in a chair by the bed and held Travis briefly. It wasn't the snuggle we wanted. It was holding our sweet boy with tubes and wires and machines with just our arms straight out. Then, it was my turn. I sat down and they worked hard to get him transferred to me. Once things were set they set him down and alarms started beeping....they had to reposition him and couldn't get it right until he was flat back in bed. I gave up my last chance to hold my baby so that his organs could help someone else.</div><div><br /></div><div>Late that evening we said our goodbyes and left. We left with him still on the machine and the transplant team working hard to find matches. We went home. To an emptier home. </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember just feeling so tired and numb. I remember hoping that his organs would be a match and that someday we could meet the person who they went to and tell them about our miracle baby. I remember hugging Addie Sue....so much pain I felt for her. She was so young and never really got to know her brother. I remember worrying about my mom and my sister. If they were okay. And, I remember falling asleep praying it was all a nightmare.</div><div><br /></div><div>....continued tomorrow.......</div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08750687997109727558noreply@blogger.com3