The Adventures of Gavin

Gavin Anthony Dahms

Born: January 8th 2005

Weight: 5 pounds 11 ounces Length: 18 inches

Thank you for all the prayers...they have obviously been working because Gavin continues to get stronger every day! Gavin was diagnosed with End-Stage Renal Failure (Bilateral Hypoplastic Kidneys) on January 10th, 2005. He was born with kidneys that are about 1/4 of the size that they should be. He will need to be on peritoneal dialysis until he's big enough to have a kidney transplant--which is when he reaches 15-20 pounds.

From the "Donate Life" website:
17 people on the organ transplant waiting list will die today because not enough organs are available. One organ donor can save or improve the lives of more than 50 people. Give the gift of life; be an organ donor.









Gavin received his most precious gift, a new kidney from his hero (and ours) his dad on December 7th, 2005!!!! NO MORE DIALYSIS!!!!



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
~Albert Einstein


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Journal

Saturday, May 9, 2009 8:25 PM CDT

Good Evening!

Gavin and Olivia have BOTH enjoyed getting outside and enjoying the weather. I promised in the last entry that I’d post some updated photos.




This photo is from our last visit to see Dr. Nevins at the University of MN…we made a pit stop at the Ronald McDonald House to visit some old friends 4-28-09.



Dr. Nevins had all good things to say about Gavin and his transplanted kidney. We had a good chuckle about Gavin’s energy level and exuberance for life. In the first 5 minutes of the appointment, I think Gav asked Dr. Nevins at least 10 questions.

It also appears that our insurance mess is just about behind us. THANK YOU to the Minnesota Disability Law Center for all your help!

We ask tonight for prayers for our kidney buddy Kadin, who is spending some time in the hospital.

And in honor of Mother's Day, I wanted to share this:


To You, My Sisters
by Maureen K. Higgins

Many of you I have never even met face to face, but I've searched you out every day. I've looked for you on the Internet, on playgrounds and in grocery stores.

I've become an expert at identifying you. You are well worn. You are stronger than you ever wanted to be. Your words ring experience, experience you culled with your very heart and soul. You are compassionate beyond the expectations of this world. You are my "sisters."

Yes, you and I, my friend, are sisters in a sorority. A very elite sorority. We are special. Just like any other sorority, we were chosen to be members. Some of us were invited to join immediately, some not for months or even years. Some of us even tried to refuse membership, but to no avail.

We were initiated in neurologist's offices and NICU units, in obstetrician's offices, in emergency rooms, and during ultrasounds. We were initiated with somber telephone calls, consultations, evaluations, blood tests, x-rays, MRI films, and heart surgeries.

All of us have one thing in common. One day things were fine. We were pregnant, or we had just given birth, or we were nursing our newborn, or we were playing with our toddler. Yes, one minute everything was fine. Then, whether it happened in an instant, as it often does, or over the course of a few weeks or months, our entire lives changed. Something wasn't quite right. Then we found ourselves mothers of children with special needs.

We are united, we sisters, regardless of the diversity of our children's special needs. Some of our children undergo chemotherapy. Some need respirators and ventilators. Some are unable to talk, some are unable to walk. Some eat through feeding tubes. Some live in a different world. We do not discriminate against those mothers whose children's needs are not as "special" as our child's. We have mutual respect and empathy for all the women who walk in our shoes.

We are knowledgeable. We have educated ourselves with whatever materials we could find. We know "the" specialists in the field. We know "the" neurologists, "the" hospitals, "the" wonder drugs, "the" treatments. We know "the" tests that need to be done, we know "the" degenerative and progressive diseases and we hold our breath while our children are tested for them. Without formal education, we could become board certified in neurology, endocrinology, and pschylogy.

We have taken on our insurance companies and school boards to get what our children need to survive, and to flourish. We have prevailed upon the State to include augmentative communication devices in special education classes and mainstream schools for our children with cerebral palsy. We have labored to prove to insurance companies the medical necessity of gait trainers and other adaptive equipment for our children with spinal cord defects. We have sued municipalities to have our children properly classified so they could receive education and evaluation commensurate with their diagnosis. We have learned to deal with the rest of the world, even if that means walking away from it.

We have tolerated scorn in supermarkets during "tantrums" and gritted our teeth while discipline was advocated by the person behind us on line. We have tolerated inane suggestions and home remedies from well-meaning strangers. We have tolerated mothers of children without special needs complaining about chicken pox and ear infections. We have learned that many of our closest friends can't understand what it's like to be in our sorority, and don't even want to try.

We have our own personal copies of Emily Perl Kingsley's "A Trip To Holland" and Erma Bombeck's "The Special Mother". We keep them by our bedside and read and reread them during our toughest hours. We have coped with holidays. We have found ways to get our physically handicapped children to the neighbors' front doors on Halloween, and we have found ways to help our deaf children form the words, "trick or treat." We have accepted that our children with sensory dysfunction will never wear velvet or lace on Christmas. We have painted a canvas of lights and a blazing Yule log with our words for our blind children. We have pureed turkey on Thanksgiving. We have bought white chocolate bunnies for Easter. And all the while, we have tried to create a festive atmosphere for the rest of our family. We've gotten up every morning since our journey began wondering how we'd make it through another day, and gone to bed every evening not sure how we did it.

We've mourned the fact that we never got to relax and sip red wine in Italy. We've mourned the fact that our trip to Holland has required much more baggage than we ever imagined when we first visited the travel agent. And we've mourned because we left for the airport without most of the things we needed for the trip.

But we, sisters, we keep the faith always. We never stop believing. Our love for our special children and our belief in all that they will achieve in life knows no bounds. We dream of them scoring touchdowns and extra points and home runs.

We visualize them running sprints and marathons. We dream of them planting vegetable seeds, riding horses and chopping down trees. We hear their angelic voices singing Christmas carols. We see their palettes smeared with watercolors, and their fingers flying over ivory keys in a concert hall. We are amazed at the grace of their pirouettes. We never, never stop believing in all they will accomplish as they pass through this world.

But in the meantime, my sisters, the most important thing we do, is hold tight to their little hands as together, we special mothers and our special children, reach for the stars.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!

We’ll update again soon!

XOXO,
Tony, Jess, Gavin, & Olivia

Read Journal History

Hospital Information:

COPYRIGHT 2005-2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO ANTHONY & JESSICA DAHMS

University of Minnesota Children's Hospital, Fairview
420 Delaware Street S.E.
Minneapolis, MN 55455
612-273-3000

Links:

E-mail Author: Jessdahms@hotmail.com

---

 

Your gift will help millions of people stay connected with friends and loved ones during challenging times.

---

 

This page has been viewed 389389 times.

Site Sponsored by:

Note: The foregoing information was authored by the patient, parent or guardian, or other parties who are solely responsible for the content. Such announcements or their content are not necessarily endorsed by CaringBridge, Inc. or any sponsoring agent.  This information does not confirm that anyone is or was actually a patient at any facility.