About 3 months ago, our family vacation went amiss. It was so unexpected, so bizairre. It would be the family vacation we would/could never forget.
We had booked a cruise over a year before in Nov 2022 for December 2023. We had been waiting ALL year to go on this family cruise. Jarom was especially excited to go. Beaches, sun, and swimming are his jam. The humidity does him wonders. December finally came and we were ready. Beach towels, flip flops, snorkel gear, and all eight kids packed into the suburban and off we went. First a stop in St. George to spend the weekend with family for a Christmas party. Thursday night and Friday was swimming, hiking, playing games- our vacation was starting out well. Nobody was complaining and we still had so much to look forward to. Saturday morning, December 16th came and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. It was going to be a great day for a hike. The entire family debated on where to go. In a large extended family of 7 kids with all their kids, the debates are a real thing. It was decided into of going into Snow Canyon, we would hike Pioneer Park in St. George. The kids would enjoy that more it seemed. Thinking back to that day, nothing seemed to scream out "watch out your life is about to change", "pay attention", "watch Jarom". Nothing. All seemed well.
We got to Pioneer Park, walked around the gardens, and hiked up in the rocks. I remember chasing down the handful of 3-4 year olds with Jarom by my side. He took off one way and I the other, scaling rocks, and helping the little kids get through the maze of red, towering rocks to safety below. Together we accomplished the impossible- we found all the littles, conquered the rocks, and took them back to the meeting place. It was at that point, that Jarom told me that he would be going to the bathroom which was back by the garden area, a 1/2 mile off. I remember he looked fine. No signs of his asthma flaring up, no struggle to breath, no red face, just his handsome face looking back at me. Off he went. In the next 10 minutes so much would change.
Our car was parked about 1/2 mile south of where we were at. It was decided that a sister would drive us down to our car. It would be faster. It was about 3:30 and time to get back "home". As this decision was being made, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Jarom. Why would he be calling? I answered and couldn't hear much for a second. "Mom, I can't breathe." Then just gasps of him trying to suck in air but he seemed ok. "Ok I am coming. Wait I will come get you." I hung up thinking, we gotta get back to the hotel to get him on his nebulizer. He is having an asthma attack and his inhaler must not be cutting it. I told my husband we needed to hurry to get back, Jarom was having a hard time breathing so lets get back to the car as soon as possible.
It took a minute or two to wrangle all the kids into a few cars and started heading to the outer parking lot. As I looked out the back window of the car I was sitting in, I suddenly noticed my child, my Jarom, staggering through the ravine between the parking lot and the gardens and bathroom. I couldn't see much, but I could tell something was wrong. I jumped out of the car, as it pulled into the parking area, and as I ran to my son, I called his name. "Jarom, Jarom" and there was no response. As I came upon him, he was barely able to keep upright. His head hung low. I pulled up his face and it was purple and is lips were blue. My heart literally stopped. My mind raced. What was happening. I had just talked with him. He then collapsed into me and with all the strength I could muster I throw my arms around him and began to drag him to the parked cars, all the while yelling for my husband to help. He heard me and ran to us, grabbing Jarom and putting him into the car.
The next few moments, were utter chaos, of getting our children who were still standing in the parking lot into a car, calling 911, trying to determine if the ambulance would make it there soon, or if we needed to just head to the hospital. My husband determined that we needed to go now and we flew out of that parking lot like a bat out of Hades. We just happened to be 5 minutes from the hospital. As we were leaving the parking lot area, the last thing I heard my son say, "I can't breathe...just get me home" and then pass out and fall over in the middle seat of suburban. I was on the phone with 911, telling them we were on our way to the hospital and giving them a play by play of what was happening. I asked the only other two passengers in the car, two young siblings, besides Jarom, my husband, and I to see if Jarom was breathing. They were shaking and crying, but they checked and he barely was. You could see his chest moving ever so slightly. The drive seemed to take forever, but really it was minutes. My husband pulled into the ER, and grabbed our unconscious son into his arms and ran him into the waiting room, yelling for help. I stayed outside watching, praying, hoping, wondering. My heart aching, my mind racing, and all my thoughts sent up to God in prayer for my child's safety and healing. It hurt to be left there, but I knew I had to park the car and get the kids back to somewhere safe where they could process things and be loved.
After getting my children in a car with their grandparents, I rushed inside. They had my son on a table. They had cut his shirt off, tore off his belt and to get better access to his chest. He was purple/blue and looked dead. At that moment I had the distinct inpression to call my mom and start a prayer chain. I did. "Pray for Jarom, mom" I told her. "Tell everyone to pray for Jarom" and I knew she would send out the call. I then text my good friend, Melissa. "Tell everyone to pray for Jarom" I said and I knew she would. I glanced back into the room. One nurse/doctor had jumped up on the table and was doing chest compressions. What I didn't realize at the time is while I had called my mom, Jarom's heart had stopped. He literally had died. There was no detection of his heart on the monitor. The doctors and nurses raced into action. They started chest compressions. It took a bit, but they did get it going again. I didn't know that this was what had happened and in some ways I am glad I missed it.
The doctor then put Jarom into an induced coma to allow him some time to let his brain recover from the low/to no oxygen he had not be getting for the past 10 minutes or so. They had him breathing and oxygen was back up, but they just weren't sure if he would have brain death, or brain injuries from the lack of oxygen. They told us the chances of him being brain dead was high. It was then that the waiting game began.
I held his tore shirt and mangled belt in my hands and wondered if I would ever see my son fully functional again. I walked over to him and held his face in my hands and told him to come back to me if he could. He was needed here. I cried into his chest and gave him a hug. He was stiff and still blue. I just wanted him back. I just wanted to turn back time. I just wanted to hear him say, "Mom its going to be ok" in the way that he always did. "Mom don't worry", "Mom don't worry" I could hear him telling me that in my mind. I knew I needed to be strong for him.
They transferred us from the ER to the ICU. There Jarom laid on a hospital bed, breathing with the help of a machine, wires coming from his head from the EGG tests they were running, a tube down his throat, and alarms going off at regular intervals. Discussions of medicines, processes, and possible outcomes were the conversations of the next few hours. I didn't have time to process much.
1:30 am came and the hospital room was finally quiet, the halls empty, and I could finally think in peace. I had been praying for complete healing for my son all afternoon and evening. I told God I wanted him back whole and if that couldn't happen for him to just take him. Jarom would hate to not be able to run, hike, jump or not do things for himself and I didn't know if I could bare getting him back to only lose him in a different way.
As I left Jarom's room, leaving behind my husband to watch over our child, I wondered into a quiet hall and sat down. I began to sob. I cried all my heart out. I knew that in order to say God's will be done, I had to accept that no matter what. It was then that I knew I needed to let go. Could I accept my son being brain dead and never coming back? Could I accept my son possibily waking up, but being "whole"? I wasn't sure. I wrestled with God in those moments of utter anguish. I felt so alone, so torn, so desperate. It was then that my sister waked through the elevator doors to my left. She ran over and held me in her arms. "We can do this together" she said and I knew we could. "God", I cried, "Thy will be done" and I truly meant it. I have never felt so much peace in my life. I knew that it would be ok no matter the outcome. I knew that God knew what was supposed to happen and I would be ok with whatever that outcome was. And then waiting continued through the night.
Sunday morning did come. They lowered the meds and began the process of waking him up. His eyes began to flicker and he squeezed our hand. He opened his eyes and his croaked out some words. He was awake! But was he "whole"? Could he process things mentally, could he eat, could he walk? These were the questions we were dying to know. We didn't have to wait long. Jarom defied all odds. He walked, talked, and ate faster than most. He passed a mental test. He demanded to go home as soon as possible. He cried when he told him we would most likely miss the cruise the next day. He didn't understand what had happened.
Long story short, my son is whole. 100%. The doctors are unsure of what caused him to go into anaphylactic shock, but they say he was a miracle. The ER doctor came back to visit Jarom and Sunday evening and told him that he shouldn't be there. He should be dead, brain dead, but yet he was alive and well.
We took Jarom home Monday, only about 32 hours after first entering the hospital. It was unheard of. As we drove home, I thanked God over and over again. But then I thought, could I proclaim that God was a God of miracles, even if Jarom had died or come back brain dead, or not fully functional? Could I? Mothers lose their sons all the time. Many or not most brain injuries don't come back with full healing after being in a coma. Could I still trust in God, if the outcome had been different? Could I still proclaim him as good? And I can say that yes I could.
God is a God of miracles. Truly nothing is impossible with him. But I do know that we don't always get the miracles we seek or what. Sometimes the outcome is different. But God still is a God of miracles. He knews the beginning from the end and does what is best. I ache for all those mothers who have lost their sons, but I hope for peace in their journey of knowing that God still is a God of miracles and that he loves them so much. He has never left them alone.
God truly is a God of miracles. Always and Forever.






