Layne’s Story – Part Thirteen

Saying goodbye to her was so hard.  The hardest thing I have ever had to do.  I knew that I would never be able to hold her physical body ever again and it was tearing me up inside.  We were both an emotional wreck, to say the least.  It was the middle of the night and Jeff and I were both exhausted – mentally and physically.  Neither of us had slept for days and in a few short hours I would be discharged and we would begin our six-hour journey back to Virginia.  We needed sleep and we needed a lot of it. 

Our parents had left and headed back to their hotel hours before and it was just Jeff and I.  The room was quiet – the nurse had already come in and given me my next round of meds and we had a little over three hours until we needed to wake up to start getting ready for discharge.  At this point Jeff climbed into the hospital bed with me and hugged me tight –  we talked about everything that had happened over the previous few days and tried to make sense of it all before finally dosing off.  Three hours came quick and before we knew it we were being woken up to the sound of our alarm.  It was 8 in the morning and the plan was to be on the road by 11:30. The funeral director had already been at the hospital doing what she needed to do to preserve Layne’s body, place her in her casket, and get her ready for travel.  As the morning progressed we were greeted by doctor after doctor and nurse after nurse.  I was only two-and-a-half days’ post-surgery and the doctors were pretty worried about me riding in a car for 6+ hours to get back home.  I was still in a great amount of pain and highly susceptible to blood clots; so susceptible that the doctors suggested mapping out all the major hospitals on the way home just in case I started showing symptoms.  It was a lot, but in a weird way we were ready to be gone.  The hospital was a constant reminder of everything that had just happened and we just wanted to be gone. 

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Late Monday morning on January 20, 2020 I was being wheeled out of room 1 at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia for the very last time.  All six of us – me, Jeff, Layne, his mom, and my parents.  We were leaving the only place we had ever held Layne – with our hearts and hands empty. We had two cars and six people and the plan was to stop every hour for me to get out of the car and walk for fifteen minutes to prevent blood clots. 

Our six-hour car ride easily turned into nine hours, which was to be expected.  It was hard for me to get comfortable.  I had to sit in the front and keep my legs extended (while wearing hospital grade compression stockings – if you know you know) and almost completely leaned back because just the thought of bending at my waist made me want to pass out.  Then by the time I would get comfortable it would be time to stop and walk laps around a gas station for fifteen minutes and then do All. Over. Again.  I remember at one point on the way home I was talking with my Mother-In-Law and the song If Heaven Wasn’t So Far Away came on and I burst into tears.  Jeff and I had been talking about that song the night before while we were laying together on the hospital bed and I can’t help but think that was Layne making herself known.  It made me cry, but it also warmed my heart.  She knew what she was doing and I appreciated it so much. 

Since Jeff and I made the decision to transport Layne ourselves we had to drive straight to the funeral home as soon as we were back in town.  This was hard. She was no longer going to be in our possession – and even though she was locked in a casket we still had her.  It was only Monday and I knew I would not be in the same room as her for another three days at her funeral.  As we left the funeral home and headed home things really started to hit me.  It was just Jeff and I and we were going to be alone, just the two of us, in our house with no plans and nothing to do, but rest and heal for who knows how long.  I hated the thought of that.  I wanted to be around people – as weird as that sounds.  I love my husband and he was doing everything for me, literally everything, but I wanted to be surrounded by all our family and close friends 24/7.  I think the comfort of family took our minds away from what was really going on.  We were able to laugh and joke and clear our heads for a period of time, despite everything that just happened in the days prior, and I wanted that.  I wanted to get through the grief and the pain of losing her with all my family.  Of course, I dealt with things on my own and with just Jeff, but 99% of the time I did not want to be alone. 

The next day-and-a-half we spent at the house, with our families, taking it easy and really focusing on my healing.  I was starting to get around much better, but as soon as my pain meds wore off, I was in bad shape and I would not be able to move.  I could not get on and off the couch.  I was very much out of commission.  I had to make it a point to rest and relax because I am not one to do so, especially when I was feeling so good with the meds.  Our families both spent a lot of time at our house those two days leading up to her funeral.  They were all really good about making sure we were never alone.  We talked and shared stories about Layne and it was just what we needed.  I remember one story in particular that has stuck with me.  My mom brought to my attention something that I probably never would have picked up on.  When I was a kid, I’m talking like 5 or 6, I had two imaginary friends (don’t joke) and they were named Nala (pronounced Naa-la) and Julie.  Everyone knew about them and they went everywhere with me (I’m trying not to laugh as I type this at 27 years old lol) Well fast forward 20+ years to my first pregnancy with my daughter who has been diagnosed with a fetal anomaly and I am at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia fighting for her life and working with two absolutely amazing doctors:  Dr. Julie Moldenhauer and Dr. Nahla Khalek.  Y’all I can’t make this up.  It was then when I knew we had done absolutely everything possible to save her life.  It was reassurance that CHOP was the place we needed to be. 

On Thursday, January 23, 2020 we laid our sweet little girl in her final resting place.  We had a small and intimate service in a chapel that was located at the cemetery; and after the service just Jeff and I walked Layne over to her mausoleum where she will spend forever. Like I mentioned in a previous post, she is in the mausoleum my grandparents pre-purchased years ago.  I love the fact that she will be close to family if we choose to leave her there.  We have the option to remove her from the mausoleum and have her placed wherever Jeff and I decide to purchase plots when the time comes, but if we choose to leave her I love the fact that she will be so close to family.  She is also very close to my great uncle.  She is surrounded by family and Jeff and I love that.  Directly following the funeral Jeff and I welcomed all our friends and family to our home to celebrate Layne’s life.  It was so amazing to see all the faces of the hundreds of people that prayed so hard for us. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

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After thirteen installments of Layne’s Story I have finally reached the end.  Thank you so much for everyone who has followed along and prayed for us.  The prayers mean more then you know.  I plan on starting a new series titled My Story – Life after Loss to share my story with grief and how I am doing.  I hope you all will choose to continue following along.