Door Number 3

This past Monday, we made our monthly trip to DC. Once a month we trek up there to meet with his transplant coordinator and one of the doctors on the team and they do the same thing that everyone else does: weigh, measure, take vitals, ask if his meds have changed. We don’t mind this trip, though. With the exception of the traffic, we enjoy meeting with his team and we enjoy the cupcakes that we get after each visit.

Here is  a little known secret, though. This time, Rusty and I planned to have a confrontation of sorts with the team. This time, we planned to leave that office with a scheduled date for transplant.

Let me back up a bit. We are fairly connected with other UCD families and parents of transplanted children. We also know how to work the website that manages the transplant list. And so, we also know that Matthew has been listed for a really long time. In status 1B terms, for an eternity. We’ve heard that 1B children average a wait of 36 days. Matthew is well past 90 days.  We’ve made contact with parents who were transplanted within a week, and those were listed a lot lower than Matthew. It is draining to always feel like this life changing phone call is going to come at any second. The longer we go without the call, the less ready we are and the more we feel like it is never going to come. God has protected Matthew for these last 6 months. He has prevented any ammonia spikes. You would think that this would give us peace and help us to be patient, but it doesn’t. For us, it feels like we are playing Russian Roulette with his health, He can’t keep facing dangerous things and come out unscathed indefinitely. One day soon, his ammonia is going to spike. Our fear isn’t that his ammonia could go up. It is that when Matthew spikes, he spikes high and fast, and it is very difficult to get back under control. Our fear comes from hearing doctors say that he won’t survive another spike. We fear that the longer we wait, the harder it is going to be for him to ‘catch up’ developmentally. We feel that there are a lot of things that we are told  ‘we can tackle after transplant’, and we just don’t want to put those things off any longer.  So, fueled by fear, we have been having Rusty screened for being a live donor for Matthew. Rusty’s surgeons have been very pleased with his test results and have said that his liver is perfect for donating.   Frustrated as we are, we agreed that if a liver call hadn’t come by this months visit, we would ask to schedule the live donor transplant.

I’ve got to be honest. The thought of having my son and my husband on the operating table consecutively wasn’t very exciting. But how long do you let your son linger in danger? Rusty felt like he had to get himself screened and the urge to vomit at the though of it (Which is how I felt when it was first brought up) had left, leaving me ‘okay’ with the idea. So, there we were, ready to put Rusty through an (up to 8 hour) operation followed by Matthew’s (up to 12 hour) transplant.

On the drive up, we brainstormed our ‘plan of attack’. There were things that we needed answered to verify our fears. Was Matthew being passed up? Had children jumped ahead of him on the list? Was his injured brain causing potential livers to go to kids whose brains were whole? What parameters were being used to screen livers? Why were we passing up livers? Can the parameters be loosened at all?

We got our answers, and without the anticipated confrontation too. It is because of his brain injury that he is listed so high on the transplant list. They have every hope of preserving his brain function and giving him a fair chance at life. No one is jumping ahead of Matthew. At 1B, he is listed nationally and livers are ‘handed out’ based on the amount of time that you have been listed. They want to give Matthew the best chance possible at a smooth transplant and recovery, and so, are passing up livers with questionable health histories, livers that were deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time. We are now looking at livers from larger cadaver donors, now that Matthew has grown so much. The only things left to loosen are looking at split or partial liver donations. His best chance at survival is with a whole liver, and since he is holding steady and healthy, they want to continue to hold out for a whole liver. They are just as surprised as we are that the call hasn’t come yet. In fact, they said they haven’t done a transplant in months, but Matthew isn’t competing with anyone else in their center for a liver. The next one up is his!

We had a good, informative talk with his doctor and we left once again feeling sure in our path. We are going to continue to wait for a liver for Matthew. We both feel that this is what God wants us to do. We feel it is what is best for Matthew. It stinks. I’d love for him to be past this zero protein diet, but I’m thankful that he has maintained his health, that he continues to grow like a weed, and that he is no longer vomiting all over the place (have I mentioned that yet? I may need to post about that soon, if not).

Another Check Up

Another Check Up


Happy Big Little Things

The Crib

Before Matthew was born, we had his room painted, his dresser was set up and filled with clothes and diapers. We had a bassinet and a rocking chair, but no crib. Then everything happened and we weren’t sure if he would survive. I had lots of horrible thoughts, like “It’s a good thing we didn’t buy a crib yet” and ” I wonder if we can return the car seat?” When Matthew came home he had an NG tube, which meant that he couldn’t lie flat at night because he had to receive feedings in his sleep. Several months later, Matthew had a G-tube put in, which meant he was able to lie flat when eating, but we were struggling with vomit problems and were afraid to let him lie flat or be in a different room. On December 29, Matthew turned 7 months old. A few days later he spent his first night in a crib! It was magical. He slept so much better than he had been sleeping in the little bed in our room. He looks so cute sleeping in that crib. It fits him and we are ecstatic that he is content and resting.

Self Soothing

Matthew has always been a crier and he has never been one to stop crying until he’s been rocked or swayed or bounced. Last night, he woke up at his usual time. I usually change him and rock him for the next hour or two, and then he sleeps for a couple of hours before we do it all over again. But, Rusty and I were reading our Bibles, so we let him fuss for a few minutes until we had finished our reading. He never really even cried. He did a little fussy ‘talking’ and then got quiet. AND he slept straight through until 6:00. It was a glorious full night of sleep!

Today we were coming home from a lunch date with Rusty at Matthew’s nap time. He fell asleep in the car and woke up when I carried him into the house. I thought I’d give it another try. I put him in his bed and left the room. He talked to himself for less than a minute and then slept for hours. I love  my big boy!!

By Mouth

He has suffered from a little bit of an oral aversion. A tube down your throat and constant vomiting will do that to you. We’ve found him a couple of times in the recent weeks with his hand to his mouth. He likes to suck on clothes, blankets, or a knuckle. But no food. Last night I got him to easily and happily take some medicine by mouth. He did it again today, too. He’s also been smoothly taking baby food and today he tried a puff. Don’t tell anyone, but I gave him an apple too. Both girls loved to gnaw on an apple when they were little, so last night when the girls and I were eating an apple and I saw him watching me and opening his mouth every time I took a bite, I decided to let him try it. He didn’t eat it, but he also didn’t flinch or cry. He was okay with having food in his mouth and that  is huge.


Matthew has gotten really good at rolling over from his belly to his back. When he’s put on his belly, he can hold himself up for several minutes. He has learned to tuck his arm under and roll completely onto his back, quickly and smoothly, to the right or the left.  He’s also learned to keep his head tracking with his body when rolling. Before his body would roll and then his head would follow later. It’s a little thing. But it is huge for us.


The past few weeks have brought big little changes in him. We are excited about his progress. We are excited about all that he’s already accomplished. Every time we feel like he’s behind or get sad about what he can’t do, we remind ourselves that it was predicted that he would be a vegetable if he successfully came out of his coma. He stomped right over that prediction. He moves. He smiles. He recognizes faces and voices. He’s learning to roll and to sit up. That little boy is a blessing and a miracle; a constant reminder of God’s grace and  provision, His might and His love.  I am so very proud of my Matthew and so very thankful to my God.