Monday, June 18, 2012

A View from a Friend...


Today's blog post is written by guest writer Pam Dardess, one of the most important people in my life. The more I think about it, the more I know we crossed paths when we did for a reason. She lived through my daily pregnancy battles with Kennedy, helped me get through the first days and months and years of adjusting to a child with special needs,  has spent countless hours sitting with me in hospital surgical waiting rooms, has cried with me and laughed with me and yelled with me, has been my rock through it all. 

A while back, Amy asked me if I would write a guest post for her blog. I agreed immediately, honored that she would even ask. And then the time passed. It passed because I’m a busy mom of a new baby and a 7-year old. It passed because of work. It passed because of home and chores and all the other mundane things we do in our lives. But it also passed because I knew this wasn’t something I could sit and write in 10 minutes, or even 20 or 30. Amy gave me carte blanche to write what I wanted. And that’s been the hardest part. I want to do justice to the beautiful writing and stories she’s given us all on her blog. I want to do justice to her amazing family. I want to do justice to a certain little blond-haired girl.

But most of all, I want to do justice to Amy. So, because she won’t say these things, let me write about her.

I met Amy when she became my officemate. My first impression of her was that she was quiet, and I wondered how we would get along. Then she hung pictures up on the bulletin board on her side of the office. I saw Amy with this cute little brown-haired girl with big eyes. And I began to find out how much strength Amy’s quiet exterior hides.

When Amy got married to Ryan, she asked me to be a reader at the wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony and a gorgeous day. Several months later, Amy was in the throes of morning sickness. Throughout her pregnancy, Amy would say that she didn’t feel like things were the way they should be. I brushed off her comments, telling her that everything would be fine, it’s normal to worry, no big deal.

On April 6th, 2002, Amy traveled from NC to MD to attend my wedding, despite the fact that she was 9 months pregnant. On May 8th, 2002, Kennedy Grace Goodwin was born. And we all learned that there is nothing more powerful than a mother’s intuition. Despite ultrasounds that didn’t detect any issues, Kennedy was born with a missing ear and other issues that Amy and Ryan wouldn’t even know about until later.

The first time I saw Kennedy was in the hospital, the first day of her life. She was so small and adorable, wrapped up just like a burrito. She was a sweet baby who didn’t even cry as I sat in a rocking chair and held her in my arms. She had one ear that “looked like a flower” as her sister said – and also like her sister said, that was okay.

I left that first day not really understanding the journey that would be ahead for Kennedy and her family. I soon found out that Kennedy had to be sent to the NICU due to trouble breathing when she was eating. To this day, I have such a clear memory of visiting the hospital - Amy, still recovering from her c-section, going in to visit her baby girl. Katie, too young to be allowed into the NICU, peering through the window with silent tears rolling down her face.

In the days, weeks, and months that would follow, I’d get to find out more about Amy’s strength. Doctor’s appointments, surgeries, decisions, worries. And yet, in spite of what was going on in her life, Amy was always there for me when I needed her.

On a summer day in June 2007, I was sitting at my desk at work. I had moved on to a new job by then, but Amy and I had moved far beyond just being officemates by that point. My phone rang, and I heard Amy. I don’t remember what she said, only that I could hear the sobbing in her voice. I asked if she was ok. And for the first time I can remember, she said “no.” Through tears, she said they had tried to extubate Kennedy after days of keeping her sedated following a surgery. Kennedy had stopped breathing. They resuscitated her, and now she was intubated again. I told her I would be right there.

I will never forget that day at the hospital. I scrubbed my hands up to the elbows so that I could go into the PICU. Only two could go in at a time, so Ryan took a break so that I could see Amy and Kennedy. And there was this little girl, hooked up to every machine imaginable. Her face was swollen, her body so small. I felt tears prick my eyes and tried to blink them back. I hugged Amy and watched her cry.

Amy will say that she is changed after that incident. Maybe so – but I think she just became “more Amy.” The appreciation for life, her willingness to go to the ends of the earth for her girls, her compassion, her grace, her perseverance – it was all there before.

Amy has given her youngest daughter a great gift – because she’s passed on her quiet strength to Kennedy. Kennedy is not a kid who has a “poor me” philosophy about life.  Kennedy is more than her ear, or her surgeries, or her syndrome. Above all, Kennedy is just a kid – and those are my endearing memories of her. I remember almost 3-year old Kennedy sitting on the sofa in our apartment, holding my daughter Lea as a newborn. I remember Kennedy and Lea playing in a baby pool together in my backyard, and on the swing set in Amy’s back yard. I think of my daughter Maya’s smiles as Kennedy coos at her. I see our girls growing older, seeking independence, finding their way in the world.

One of the things I admire most about Amy is her ability to create a community around her.  If you need proof of what Amy can accomplish, look around at Team Kennedy. We’re hundreds strong on Facebook. We turn out in force in our Team Kennedy t-shirts for charity walks, donation drives, and Kennedy’s surgeries. Amy has taught me that it is a sign of strength, not weakness, to ask for help. She has taught me that there is strength in numbers. And, more than anything, she has taught me that someone who isn’t related to you can be a sister just the same.

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