Here is a picture of Kendall touching our baby Charlie. Two nights ago, at three in the morning, we got a call from the NICU that Charlie needed emergency surgery. He had a perforation in his small intestines. It took over an hour just to unhook him from everything and move him downstairs. Although it was major surgery and the problem very serious, I was mostly worried that just the act of moving him and performing ANY kind of surgery would be fatal. But he survived, thank God. They came and told us at 7 am and he was soon back in his incubator. They cut away the part that had a hole but could not reattach the intestines at this time. So the ends of them are currently outside of his body. If all goes well, they will perform another surgery when he’s stronger, in about two months, and put everything back where it belongs.
The surgery adds a host of new risks to his already critical condition. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers. On top of all that is the increased concern about his existing brain bleeds and what that would mean if he survives. I don’t even want to go into that right now or dwell on any other scary news because I want him to live more than anything, anything in the world. I love him so much. I’m trying to be very positive but it’s all scary as shit. That said, we had a nice Mother’s Day. This photo of Charlie holding Kendall’s finger was taken earlier tonight. He definitely recognizes her whenever she’s there even though his eyes are now covered up again following the surgery.
In addition to Mother’s Day, today would have been my mother’s 75th birthday, a confluence that occurs every seven years. For the past five years I’ve written a birthday post for her called “The Judy Miller Show” but I’ll have to resume that tradition next year. Not that I wasn’t thinking of her all day because I was, but after almost 12 hours at Cedars-Sinai, I am ready to collapse even before I down the Ambien I’ve been taking all week. I’ve never used a sleep aid before but I need it right now. If I have to book a Room With a View at Betty Ford’s by fall, so be it. Above is a photo of my mother from 1954. She’s a new mom, sitting on the grass at Chicago’s Lincoln Park with her baby, my brother Bruce, and her little brother, my Uncle Paul. My mother was 14 years older than Paul, the same age difference that exists between Leah and her new brothers.
The tears for Oliver started flowing on my way to the hospital this morning, but other events of the day sent them back into hiding. I feel sad and heavy even though the days are not without bright and even humorous moments. The good news is that these events have left me feeling beaten up but very open, able to give and receive love in ways that used to be nearly impossible for me. Whatever happens, I am grateful to be the dad of Leah, Charles, and Oliver Miller, and I send my most loving Mother’s Day wishes to my wife Kendall, to Leah’s mom, Sophie, and to my mother, Judy Miller.