12) Trying not to be a crazy mom... But all moms, read this!

The thought of having to put a child in daycare is easily one of the scariest thoughts in my head. Knowing everything that I have learned from this situation makes having confidence in anybody but myself incredibly difficult, but I can't wrap my kids in a bubble and bring them to work, so life must go on. I think it's important to share with you what I've learned about daycares and social services, not to make you crazy parents, but so you know what to look for and what to be aware of. I wish I had known these things.

Social Services in Washoe County has a portal where they display the social services reports from each inspection visit and also lists any complaints against providers. If you have a kiddo in daycare (licensed home or business), they will be listed, and I highly recommend that you check it out. I had known about this and had checked every one of Taylee and Weston's daycare providers who all, including Kelly, had perfect records.
It's at the bottom of this page -Child Care Inspection Portal

Daycare providers know the window, spanning a few weeks, of when their social worker is going to show up to do their bi-annual inspection. So when daycare providers say that they get surprise visits, it's more like they get a surprise visit during a three week window. It's important to be aware of what is going on for the other 46 weeks of the year. I was told by our social worker that social workers typically do not do inspections during nap time because they have to set off the smoke alarms in the house; so social workers are typically not checking where children are sleeping. I would think that that is one of the most important times to check on providers!

I found out later from the social worker that one of her coworkers used to actually take her own child to Kelly. After our situation had occurred, she told our social worker that she caught Kelly putting her daughter to sleep on a bed, and just never reported it. If only she would have spoken up! I also found multiple pictures on Kelly's Facebook account of her daycare kids sleeping on beds, one being much too young for that to have been allowed.

I have a hard time questioning other adults; I feel like they know what they should be doing and should just do it. After this experience, I will always ask the important questions especially where my child's sleeping and actually see what is being used. It's important to find someone who you trust, who runs their daycare as a business, and doesn't see it as a way to get paid to stay home. You want someone who treats each child as their top priority! We found out later from the social worker that Kelly actually had a pack n play in the garage but was just choosing not to use it. Instance number one hundred, where my thought started with If only...

Lesson #8

11) Isn’t Counseling Just Lying on a Couch?

From the moment we knew how our situation would end in the hospital, people started encouraging that we go to counseling. The doctors, the nurses, friends, family… it was to the “Okay, Okay, we get it” point. The rumor we heard was that many marriages end in divorce after the loss of a child. It’s terrifying getting that thrown at you just as your world is turned upside down. I have to keep it together and save my marriage at the same time… hold on! I started thinking about our relationship… any holes, any time bombs that are going to explode? None that I could figure out. Chris and I communicate well; we’ve known each other long enough to know what each of us needs and how each of us deal with things, but to please everyone and make sure there were no time bombs, I found a counselor and we went.

I had never been to counseling before, and it’s hard to know what to expect. Almost every TV show portrays counseling as lying on the couch and talking for an hour while they take notes (notes that always end up being bored doodles). So we walked into the counseling office and sat on a couch. Turns out that was really the only stereotypical thing about it. We told her our story (the in the dark story…) and talked about how we were feeling; it all felt pretty peaceful and relaxing. She told us that we seemed to be doing the best that we could and that she really didn’t have any concerns about our ability to deal with this situation. We could call if we needed her, but we left feeling like we had passed counseling with flying colors. See everyone, nothing to worry about!

A month later, our wonderful counselor got a call from me who was in total disbelief about the real story… the whole story… the game changer. When you get such time-stopping news, the whole world just spins. I honestly had no idea what to think, how to think; I don’t even think I could identify my feelings at that point. It’s all very surreal. But at this point, what happened to Weston wasn’t just God’s plan; there was somebody who DID this; there was someone to blame. And that scared me, because I wasn’t sure if Chris or I could navigate that alone.

The best thing about counseling was the freedom to throw it all out there and know that there is someone who can help you put it back together or who can help explain your crazy irrational thinking to your spouse. Chris and I really stayed on the same page through pretty much everything except the feelings about Kelly. Chris was mad, and I was not. I remember this blowing up in the car – I was on the phone talking to someone about what had happened, and I kept making excuses for Kelly “well maybe she just needed to buy a pack n play and so this was a one-time thing.” I felt like since I didn’t know otherwise that I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt, since I would want someone to do that for me (I did find out later that she had a pack n play in her garage and just wasn’t using it… long sigh). Let’s just say that Chris and I did not see eye to eye on this subject. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t mad (honestly, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t mad either!). I just felt so disappointed in her and her choices. So we went to counseling and threw it all out there. I remember the best thing that our counselor said to me that day was that I didn’t have to feel stupid for my feelings. That seems obvious but could not even cross my mind – I felt stupid that I wasn’t mad. She helped Chris and I navigate our feelings and helped us come to terms with the fact that our feelings may be different but they were both right for us. Did you know that there’s not a checklist for how you feel when you’re grieving? Of course I knew that, but when you’re in the middle of it, it just doesn’t make sense that there wouldn’t be. She was an awesome crazy irrational thinking brain fixer. J

We met with our counselor for about 7 months after Weston passed away. We just recently stopped. I can honestly say going was the best choice we ever made. Could Chris and I have made it on our own; probably. But our marriage, our happiness, our family is not something that I would be willing to bet that on. At our last appointment, we sat with our counselor and laughed and talked about all the good things that are happening; all the happy things we have coming up and all the amazing ways we are keeping Weston’s memory alive. It really felt like we had come full circle on that couch, and we are forever grateful for her support, guidance, and time. As we were leaving, it felt like we should invite her over for Christmas dinner. It’s strange telling a stranger your fears and about the scariest, saddest parts of your life, but over time, they become much less of a stranger and more a friend. 

Lesson #9:

10) Social Services Trouble

UPDATE August 2016:
Over the past year, I have been in contact with Social Services a few different times. These calls have been much more helpful and are always promptly returned. The people I have spoken with have been tremendously helpful regarding my questions and are willing to listen to suggestions that I have. They have also given me numerous resources and contacts to help to get Weston's story to the people that it matters to most. I have been given more information about Social Workers obligations - for one, they are supposed to ask about where the children are sleeping. I have added getting some policies changed to my never-ending Weston list as I think just asking isn't quite enough. 

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After the incident with Weston, Kelly's social worker was immediately contacted and visited her house. I would be in contact with her later on, but I met her when she came to the hospital with Kelly.

It took almost three months for the “complaint” report to show up on Social Service’s Childcare Portal. I know because I neurotically checked EVERY SINGLE DAY. I felt guilty that it wasn’t there yet; like I should be telling parents what happened so at least they knew, so at least they weren’t in the dark like we were. I didn’t know what they had been told, because nobody from social services ever called me. So I started calling them.

I started with the supervisor. She was nice; I asked what action was being taken with the daycare at the time (since Taylee was still going there, because I was still in the dark), and I wanted to be sure that things were being taken care of. She tells me that she will speak with the social worker to find out what was going on and get back to me in a couple days. Two weeks later… no call, and by this time, I have learned the whole story. So I call her again and  she is so sorry that she hadn’t called me back. Part of me can't believe that people just didn't get in contact with us - there was a death because of Kelly's actions, and I understand that city departments are very busy, but what is happening that is more important? I'll never understand. According to the supervisor, there was a plan: the social worker was checking in weekly, had spoken with Kelly extensively about safe sleeping arrangements, and had instructed her that she had to take three additional classes this year if she wanted to watch infants again. In regards to the complaint report, it just needed to be signed off, and it would be up on the site. As I sat there listening to her, I was again in total shock that THIS IS IT - her consequences are having to take three classes.  

Two months in… no report… I called and said that I was a parent looking for daycare. I wanted to know how often the portal was updated; apparently “weekly”. I asked if complaints were updated within that week; apparently “they can take a little longer because they are investigated.” I asked if they would show up within a month; apparently “for sure it wouldn’t take that long” - apparently it did… By this time, I was beyond frustrated. 

Two and half months in… I called the supervisor’s supervisor. I was going to talk to every manager in the department if I had to. Thank goodness, she was very helpful. She explained that the secretary that I had talked to had obviously misspoken… obviously… and that social services needed to wait until they were cleared by Reno Police Department to post the complaint online. They have to be careful not to interfere with the criminal side of things. Makes sense… why didn't the first lady tell me that? The report was then posted a few days later, and the social worker called me to let me know that the other families had been notified of what happened before they brought their kids back to Kelly, and she read over the report with me. She was very sweet, and I know that she felt badly about the way things had been handled and what had happened.

Throughout this whole situation, I learned that persistence is your best friend. Nothing ever gets done on the first try, and in order to get answers, it has to be a priority for you, because rarely, it seems, is it a priority for them.

Lesson #7

9) In the Dark

We never really received any more information about what happened from the detectives than what I was told when I arrived at the babysitter’s house – that he was found unresponsive during his nap.

Chris and I were both very comfortable with our daycare – Kelly was “mom-like”, very nurturing, and had older daughters that would come home from school and play with the kids. I liked that it wasn’t too structured and that the kids were able to play. I never questioned anything about the daycare; nothing worried me. So the thought never crossed my mind, that it was anything other than SIDS.

We all believed that SIDS was the cause of death; that was the information that the hospital was working with, and all we were told from the detectives was that there was not foul play involved, which eliminated any abuse concerns. It was the only thing that made sense based on the information we had. So we continued to take Taylee to the daycare afterwards – thinking it was SIDS, we couldn’t imagine how bad Kelly must have felt. So, we thought it was the right thing to do; she was practically family. Kelly and her family came to the hospital to see Weston and came to his celebration of life as well. She never mentioned anything differently, even though it was obvious that we didn’t know the whole story. That is one of things that disappoints me the most.

Almost a month after Weston had passed away, I received a phone call from the Coroner’s office. School had just gotten out and so, not thinking it would be anything other than confirmation of SIDS, I called her back. She informed me that she would be ruling Weston’s death as Sudden Unexplained Infant Death due to improper sleep conditions. WHAT? My world stopped, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. She said that the police report detailed that he had been found face down on an extremely soft full size bed. How could nobody tell us what had happened for a month!

I immediately called the detective, who was extremely apologetic – yet I still can’t help but be a little upset that he hadn’t called us immediately - and told me the whole story. Kelly had been putting Weston to sleep on her daughter’s bed, unknown to us. I thought he was sleeping in a little bassinet, but apparently that had not been happening. She had him swaddled tightly and put pillows around him so that he wouldn’t roll off, but he was only 3 months old, so he wasn’t rolling yet. Her daughter went in the room to change when she got home from schools and somehow, our best guess is that she sat on the end of the bed even though she says that she didn’t, moved the bed enough to roll him over. 

I was devastated. It was no longer that he just stopped breathing, that it wasn’t his time to be here; it was now that he had suffocated because our daycare provider chose not to listen to the most important rule of infant sleeping. No beds. My baby died because she decided to be lazy that day and not set up a pack n play.

I called Chris and told him what had happened, and it was like we started the grieving all over again. It was like we were back to square one on August 24^th. It was horrible. It was difficult because now there was someone to blame; it was somebody’s fault. That was difficult to deal with. More so since Chris and I had different emotions about it. Chris was really angry with Kelly and her decision - while she was not intentionally trying to hurt Weston, she knew that was not what she should be doing. I was just unbelievably disappointed; I never got mad - the angry just never showed up, which caused some tough feelings between Chris and me. We had to navigate through the grieving differently and try to understand and support each other in the process. Not that it was something that we couldn’t do; Chris and I have a very solid relationship and are each other’s biggest supports; we knew we would be okay – it just created more difficulty. After all of this, I feel like our relationship is made of diamonds.

Lesson #6

8) Celebrating Our Boy

I am not a fan of funerals. They’re sad; there’s lots of crying, and it feels like you’re trapped in four walls. That’s not what I wanted for Weston. I wanted to celebrate him being here and the joy that he brought to our lives, and I just wanted to be happy. Chris and I set the tone, and everyone graciously went along with it. We wanted it to be at Lake Tahoe; it’s just so beautiful there, so we started looking. The problem with Lake Tahoe on a Saturday in August is that it is wedding season, and wedding season is busy and expensive. After calling numerous places, we found an opening at the beach that Chris and I were married at and it was perfect. It just made our special place even more special.

My parents set up a huge buffet of food. People sat and talked and laughed and it was perfect (freezing cold… in August… but it was perfect anyways). My mom and sisters made a collage of pictures of Weston and brought beautiful flowers. But my favorite part was the butterflies. I gave a little impromptu speech – Chris was supposed to, but it’s always a lot harder once you get there. Thank goodness he read it to me the day before, so I definitely stole all of his ideas; and then, Taylee, Chris, and I released butterflies. It was truly magical. 

 I could not have asked for a better day. A day surrounded with love from our family and friends; a day that we were able to smile and celebrate our precious boy.

Lesson #5

7) Rain & Sunsets

We told Taylee that Weston is flying in the clouds, because explaining all of this to a two year old is overwhelming, and it seemed like that was the happiest thing to believe. She never asks where he is, because she’ll tell you that that’s exactly what he is doing. Even still today, we’ll be outside or driving and on a perfectly cloudy day, she’ll say, “Weston boy is flying in the clouds.”

When I was little, I would sit with my grandma on her porch and watch the rain and lightning. She lived in Southern California so we didn’t see her as much as I would have liked, but I was her girl and that was our thing. My grandma died a few days before my 16^th birthday, and I was devastated, but always felt comfort when it rained. I’m not extremely religious and I don’t believe in ghosts, but I completely believe that our loved ones show us they’re okay in special ways. My grandma makes it rain. When I first told Chris about this, I know he thought I was a little bit crazy; unless you experience it, it does seem like it would check a few boxes in the psych ward. 

I knew he’d eventually start to see how crazy the rain thing was. It rained when my family and I went to my grandma’s house to go through her things. It rained at my high school graduation, snowed at my college graduation (Reno temperatures kind of mess the rain idea up sometimes!); it rained the day before our wedding and was supposed to rain on our wedding (my grandma knew better than to mess that up!), and it rained the day we brought both Taylee and Weston home from the hospital. Coupled with a multitude of other rainy days that came at just the perfect time. We live in a desert… how can you not be at least a little convinced? :)

So I knew that Weston would do something special to tell me he was okay. The evening we came home from the hospital, there was a beautiful sunset. Weston boy was flying in the clouds making beautiful sunsets. I don’t know if I just didn’t pay attention before or if there are more (I swear there are more) but we have had the most beautiful sunsets and sunrises since August. Each one takes my breath away and gives me some peace.

August 26, 2015 – the view from Weston’s window

Lesson #4

6) Goodbyes are Never Easy

August 26, 2015

At this point we knew that Weston wasn’t coming home, and we wanted to try and donate Weston’s organs. Knowing that we could potentially save someone else from the nightmare of losing their baby, made this decision incredibly easy. They ran the necessary tests and reached out to some doctors to see if they had patients that would need Weston’s organs. We got bittersweet news – they weren’t going to need Weston’s organs as they were so small which limited the possible candidates that could receive them, and at that time, there wasn’t anybody that did. It was happy news that nobody needed them. They were able to donate his heart valves which will go on to help numerous people. This was Weston’s first act of kindness.

We decided that we were going to take Weston off of life support that afternoon, and we thought it would be best if Chris and I were the only ones that stayed at that point. The PICU staff was amazing and accommodating. They truly made the experience as good as it could possibly be. Chris and I were able to hold him for the last two days, but that day they let everybody hold him. Everybody got a few minutes to hold him and say their goodbyes.

Taylee had come to see Weston the day before; it was truly amazing that all she saw was her little brother. She didn’t see the tubes and machines; she just saw Weston. They shared a few incredibly sweet and innocent moments. The hospital staff went above and beyond with their kindness and sweet ideas. Taylee and I helped them to take numerous footprint and handprint molds and prints. It was very special, and they are things we will treasure forever.

Saying goodbye was the hardest and easiest thing to do. We knew that our lives would never be the same but knew that he was ready to go and it felt almost selfish to keep him here. I knew that he was ready to be an angel baby and we had to let him fly.

I’m not going to write much about when we said goodbye to Weston as it is a pretty sacred moment to us. Saying goodbye to Weston was the most heartbreaking, life-changing, peaceful, nightmare experience that I wouldn’t wish upon anybody. As we told Taylee, our little Weston boy is now flying in the clouds.

We only took one picture at the hospital, and it is perfect. 

Lesson #3

5) The PICU

After an hour (maybe… who really knows… time didn’t feel normal for a while) we were allowed to go back to Weston’s room. I tried to use every hospital TV show trauma situation to mentally prepare myself for what he was going to look like, and while the tubes and machines all looked similar, seeing your baby there does not. Walking into that room for the first time was one of the hardest things that I had to do at that hospital. He was lying there on the bed and just looked like he was sleeping. Peaceful.

The doctors were running every test that they could – we knew there was going to be damage. We didn’t know how much and with the swelling that was occurring in his brain from the lack of oxygen, it would take some time to see. I am a planner - I need to know everything, regardless of the difficulty or the detail, because I need to prepare myself and make a plan, but doctors do not like to give any details of anything until they have all the facts. This was difficult… I knew that they must have some idea of the likely outcome but didn’t want to tell me because medical tests did not support it yet. Thank goodness Amy was there to give me the realistic side of the situation… the realistic conclusion that our little boy was not there anymore and should he ever wake up, that would be all that he would ever do.

Based on the medical tests, Weston was without a heartbeat for at least 40 minutes; that they got it back, in itself, is a miracle. The different tests that they ran were coming back good – x-rays showed no broken bones or damage; labs were coming back relatively normal for his situation; he was starting to breathe over the ventilator; and all of this gave us hope. That first night was the biggest hurdle. We were told that the first step was him making it through the night, and we woke up (a hundred times during the night) the next morning to his sweet face. First hurdle passed.

The back of my mind never let me forget the inevitable outcome, but all of the good news created a roller coaster. My mind raced back and forth between what my gut was telling me and the miracle my heart hoped all of the good news would create. I spent hours Googling outcomes of cases similar to this, and for the most part the outcomes were horrible nightmares, but there was one little boy who went home and had a normal life. So I prayed for a miracle.

Weston was so strong through this whole ordeal; he was breathing over the ventilator, and his organs were working hard; they took him off of a lot of the medications. All of this just wasn’t enough to overcome the damage that had been done to his brain. On the second day, they were able to start doing the brain tests which were not coming back good. All Weston was able to do was breathe intermittently on his own – nothing else was there anymore and that was the moment that I knew that we had to let him go.

Our families took over the PICU for two days. We shoved more people into his room than I’m sure the fire department would approve of. The first night I told Chris that I wanted us to be strong and be happy. If some part of his little brain could hear us, I wanted him to know that we loved him and I wanted him to hear laughter. So Chris and I put on our brave faces and took every bit of strength that we had and we smiled. We told stories and laughed with our families and brought as much joy into that room as we possibly could. Every person that wanted to be there to see Weston was there; our siblings hopped in a plane and into their cars and covered hundreds of miles to see him. His room was overflowing with love.

Our miracle wasn’t going to be that we took our little boy home; our miracle was going to be that he brought such joy to everyone’s life and that he gave us enough time so that we could all say goodbye. 

Lesson #2

4) The Emergency Room

You know the scenes in TV shows where people come bursting through the emergency room doors dazed and searching frantically for their family member? I would say it’s pretty accurate. You feel like there should be a big neon sign saying “This Way”! The nurses couldn’t get me to Chris fast enough; I was terrified to see Weston – to see what we were really dealing with, praying that he was alive. They didn’t take me to Weston’s room as it was very crowded and not something that I needed to see. Chris was already in the other room, and I could tell how bad things were by the look on his face. The doctors were STILL working on Weston, and we were told the doctor would be in to talk to us as soon as she could. It had been at least half an hour since the ambulance left – I don’t know how they decide when someone is gone but I’m so grateful they gave it a few extra minutes. They had taken Chris to the room where Weston was when he got there; Chris had said that he still didn’t have a heartbeat and looked to be in pretty bad shape. We sat in that room for an imagined eternity and prepared for the worst while hoping for anything better.

Finally, the doctors came in. They had gotten his heartbeat back. Worst scenario avoided. He was being moved to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) and this was the beginning of the roller coaster in my head. We couldn’t have gotten any better news yet I knew that we were not walking out with that sweet little boy that I had put to bed the night before.

They took us up to the PICU waiting room; thank goodness there was no one else there, and we said a prayer; we were in complete shock – how was this happening? They said they were getting him stabilized and would bring us back when that happened – time didn’t move. And we waited and waited. My friend, Amy, who works at the hospital came and found us. It was nice to have someone there to break up the silence and to have someone that knew the medical side of the conversations and could decode the medical language we were being given. Then the detectives showed up and needed to speak with us. They split us up (no matter what the situation, still makes you feel like you’re in trouble) and started asking a thousand questions that seemed to have no relevance to anything that was happening; although I couldn’t really tell you what any of them were. I was sitting there, but I was not there; all I was thinking about was my baby.

Shock is the strangest thing – it consumes your entire body and gives you an unusual amount of control while still having no control at the same time. It’s like you’re watching yourself from the corner of the room. When you hear of something like this happening, you think that the parents would be heaped unable to function. For sure, I was terrified, devastated, distressed yet I had this incredible strength; I don’t know where it came from, but I must have had someone on my side guiding me through. It gave me the courage to ask the tough questions, to demand what was right, and to face this nightmare head on. I’m pretty sure that it set the tone for the rest of my life…

Lesson #1:

3) A Day Never Forgotten - August 24, 2015

It was just a Monday- an “I’d much rather stay in bed” day; a “how is the weekend already over” day. I decided I would start the week off right and head to the gym after work before picking up Taylee and Weston from daycare. The crazy thing is I almost didn’t go – I almost talked myself out of it. It was a great workout – hopped in the car and headed to daycare. Turning on to the main street an ambulance flew by, and instantly mommy fear kicked in. Mommy fear is unexplainable – maybe irrational - but weirdly, usually right. I immediately talked myself out of it and kept driving. This is what I do; I worry. Chris doesn’t understand why I can’t ever stop worrying, but no matter how hard I try little scenarios pop up in my head at all times about a million different things, realistic or not, and I figure out the best way to handle the situation and move on. I think it’s my way of trying to always be prepared for anything – but there was no way to prepare for this; I turned onto the cul-de-sac to see numerous police cars – mommy fear was back. My mind was racing with any other possibility – an elderly neighbor was sick, one of the kids had fallen. I pulled into the driveway, and two police officers walked out of the house: “Are you Weston’s mom?” and I knew everything they were going to say.

The officers told me that Weston was found unresponsive during his nap; our daycare provider called 911 and her daughter started CPR, but he was still unresponsive when he left in the ambulance. That ambulance… and the nightmare started.

A blur followed – the most slow-motion hurricane you could ever imagine. I immediately called Chris, who I’m sure broke fifty laws getting to the hospital and still didn’t know half of what was going on, because I’m sure that I was talking a hundred miles an hour and his brain couldn’t process what I was saying; because at that point, I couldn’t process it either. I honestly don’t even remember what I said. The police officer drove me to the hospital but said that we needed to leave Taylee with the officers at the house; so phone call number two was to my dad who, I’m sure, made record time getting to the house to get Taylee. The ten minutes to get to the hospital took three hours in my mind – just enough time to go over every possible horrible scenario I was going to encounter when I walked through those emergency room doors.

And life’s lessons started.