Finishing the Nursery

For the past 4 months or so, I've been on hyper-drive mentally. I went from focusing all my energy on this pregnancy and being scared something was going to go wrong.... to focusing all of my energy on my dad and his health. My dad was a distraction for a big part of this pregnancy and allowed the time to fly by. I blindly breezed through the weeks and before I knew it I was in my 3rd trimester. After his service and coming back to Alabama, I finally looked at the calendar at where I was in life and what part of it I was to resume... I was almost 34 weeks. Just 3 weeks away from being considered full term.

It felt weird going from worrying about my dad, to worrying about preparing for Harlow all within 1 day. From one emotionally exhausting thing to another. Later I would figure out that I needed to actually feel my emotions and work through them, instead of pushing them under the rug, which I realized I had been doing for months. 

I went into nesting mode and made list after list as a way to organize all that needed to get done. From packing hospital bags, to making the hospital bag list, to finishing her nursery and buying all the last minute things we needed for her arrival that we hadn't gotten at the baby shower or by my mom. 

I am proud to say, the nursery is done! Besides some frames for one of the blank walls that we plan to put some newborn pictures in, it is fully ready for her arrival and all we need is her to put in it!

A Letter to my Dad

At my dad's service, I shared a letter I wrote to him:

Daddy-

Words cannot describe what an impact you’ve had on my life. You have been my biggest cheerleader and always made me feel so beautiful and special. You’re the only one who appreciates all the effort it takes to get ready. When I was 8 and had my first dance, I wore that red dress to my cheerleading’s homecoming  and when I came out, you started singing, “Lady in Red” and made me feel so stunning… even as an 8 year old. This special moment, was just the beginning of years of making me feel beautiful. Whether I was getting ready for school, a date or proms, you always had me stop, took both my hands in yours, twirl around, kiss me on both cheeks, and then send me on my way. I can’t even count how many times you did this and then yelled for mom to get the camera. You wanted her to take a picture of us. That reaction and routine I cherish. I was always able to feel how much you loved, admired and adored me.

You have so many people who love you. Throughout the years, many people would say “I wish he was my dad.” And I always felt so lucky because you were my dad.  There’s a reason why you have so many friends and so many people love you. You are such a strong, brave person and I admire you so much. A lot of you is in me and I take pride in those characteristics. I know how proud you are of me and I want you to know how proud I am of you. You have overcome so much in life and have always had your eye on the prize and accomplished every goal you set for yourself. You are an amazing father and I want you to know how loved you are by so many people.

You always make everything so fun. I can remember, in detail, every single family vacation we ever took, because something funny always happened and it always revolved around you. Whenever we would fly anywhere, you always got so excited to order a “Cran-Apple” on the plane. You never drank Cran-Apple anywhere else but on the airplane and you would be so excited about it. On my flight out here you’ll be proud to know I ordered a Cran-Apple just for you.

You are truly a ‘girls-dad’. You always wanted to take part in our lives and always wanted to be around for any event, even an all-girls birthday party, bridal shower or baby shower. I love that you gladly came with me to help pick out my wedding dress and me and Michelle will always cherish our father-daughter pedicure time at the nail salon J Just this past Christmas, you were so excited for us to go on the Napa Valley Wine Train and when I asked what to pack to wear, you said, “Ya know… something vogue”. I have such a special dad and am so thankful that me and Michelle got to have such an involved, adoring dad of daughters.

One of the last moments we had together when you were still feeling okay, was you putting your hand on my belly while talking to Harlow. She loved your voice because she would always move so much. You’re face just lit up whenever she would give you a good kick. It truly breaks my heart to think that Harlow won’t be able to experience you, her Papi Rocco, the way I got to. I feel like she’s missing out on so much by not knowing you. One thing that does bring me comfort is the fact that even though my daughter Harlow doesn’t get to know you right now, my daughter Lyla does. I know she was already there waiting for you when you arrived- ready to jump in your arms when you clapped your hands and called for her.  I know you’re loving on her and making her laugh. When I finally get to be with you again, I can picture you boasting all about Lyla and how wonderful she is, just like you always used to talk about me. For that, I am so thankful.        

                                                                       

Love, Laura

My Dad's Service 02.25.12

We flew home 2 days later and had my dad's service that following weekend. So many people came, the sanctuary was packed out and we heard there were even some people standing in the back. He had so many friends! He made friends everywhere he went. The service turned out amazing and my dad would have definitely loved it. We had a slideshow put together and used index cards for people to share a thought or memory, and we used those to put in an album as the 'guest book'.  Me, my mom and Michelle were laughing so much while going through the 'guest book' cards and the online obituary board: different companies and businesses were writing in about my dad and whenever my dad when come in to the hot dog place, the feed store, the appliance store etc. He touched so many lives and is so memorable. He loved meeting people and making new friends.

Rocco Anthony Covalt

Saying Goodbye

Things got progressively worse, fast. I was able to extend my stay until Valentines Day, but then I had to get back to Alabama because I was 31 weeks and needed to get to a prenatal appt. I sat with my dad the night before I left and held his hand. I talked to him, told him how much I loved him and what a strong person he was. And just sat there and cried with him. He was able to open his eyes a few times and look at me, but he couldn't say anything. I hated leaving the following day, but knew I had to.
6 days later, and the day after my birthday, he passed away. I called home on my birthday and my mom put me on speaker phone and sat with my dad so he could hear my voice. Me and my mom had our coversation, but so my dad could hear it all. I talked to him and told him again, how much I loved him. My mom said he raised his eyebrows once and towards the end of our conversation and me talking so much he opened his eyes really wide. I like to think my voice that he always loved to hear so much woke him up a bit :)
The following morning, before leaving for my doctor appt, my mom called me to tell me my dad was gone. He  passed away at sunrise (his favorite time of day) and my mom was in his room with him and talking to him when he passed. He wasn't alone and knew it was okay to go. She had said that his breathing had started getting really shallow the night before and my mom just kept praying he would at least hold out until the morning, so he wouldn't pass on my birthday. Come sunrise, he left us.
All of this happened in 3 months time. From November 23rd, to February 20th. And just 2 weeks after leaving the hospital when his Doctor told him he had 'months'. Incredibly fast and in my dad's words: "a whirlwind".

More Bad News

That night, after being moved to the ICU, my dad's oncologist ordered another chest scan to check up on the tumor in the lung. The following morning, he came and met with us to discuss the results of the scan and also to check in with us since coming to the ER the night before. The news he had wasn't good and shocked my dad completely. The scan showed the tumor in his lung was still there. Possibly a bit smaller but not by much, and the scan showed cancer spots in his liver. It had spread even more despite the chemo. He said that its progressing faster than he thought it would, and the treatment is, well... not working. Even with all the treatment he had done so far, it didn't even slow the cancer down. My dad was completely taken by surprise. I don't want to say my dad was ever in denial about anything. He knew he had cancer and he knew it was aggressive. I think he just honestly thought he was going to be able to beat it. That if he drank all of his protein shakes, prayed, had a positive attitude and did everything the Doctors said and started treatment right away like he did, that in the end, he would have been able to beat it. So to hear, that after aggressively going after this cancer, that it wasn't going away, it was actually still spreading, from his lung... to his brain... to his bone... breaking his bone... and now to his liver... he was shocked and surprised. All of this happened in a matter of 2 1/2months. Everywhere we went and whoever he would talk to about this (which wasn't too many people), he would always say, "It's been a whirlwind... since November 23rd!"
After the Doctor, we all just cried together. My dad, being the political activist that he is, was like, "Well... I guess I don't have to worry about the election." And then he went to a serious note to think about all the things he was going to miss out on. He would have spurts of this, but would never let it last long because it was too overwhelming. He never wanted to truely dive in and talk about it and think about it... at least out loud to us. I think it was just too painful.
The following morning, his Oncologist came back in to visit us. He proceeded to let him know that he still had options. His honest opinion was that he should stop treatment and focus on comfort care. He felt that was the best choice and the choice that would give my dad the best quality of life. But that if he wanted to continue treatment, they could put together a different chemo cocktail, but that it would be stronger and could possibly be dangerous. Chemo, thins your blood, and with my dad's brain bleeding, it wasn't a good idea for him to be on any treatment. It could cause some serious emergencies that could be painful and traumatizing. It just would not be a good route to go. His Doctor said, "I am honestly scared to continue treating you." After hearing this, we all knew it was best to stop treatment and enter hospice, but the Doctor wanted my dad to still feel like he had a choice.
Finally, after never asking the Doctor because he didn't want to know. He asked him the dreaded question: "how long?... 5 years?" (My dad had had this in his head from the beginning... that with treatment, he could very well still be here for 5 years and he held onto that this whole time). His Doctor responded, "Realistically... months." My dad just nodded his head. I knew he was completely speechless. It was so hard hearing that for myself, I can't imagine what was going through my dad's head. Here he was, still having a lot of living left to do and hearing he has months before he dies... it's mind boggling. My dad let him know that he believed in divine intervention and wanted to meet with his family and church family before making any decisions. He showed tremendous faith in God and let everyone know it.
He spent the next 3 days in the hospital before coming home. He could have gone home the day before he did, but he wanted to stay. My dad was somewhat scared about leaving the hospital and coming home. I think a lot of it had to do with safety and security. I think he felt like he couldn't die or have anything happen to him if he was at the hospital being monitored with doctors all around. If he was home, he could feel sick again, have to call an ambulance again, something else could happen. And his trophy room, that was once a sanctuary and his favorite room in the home he had built, had turned into a yucky place for him. It was his new room, 'his dungeon' as he had sometimes described it and just made him feel sick to think about. I don't think he wanted to go back to that. So we talked in the hospital about moving his bed into the living room when we got home, so he could have the TV, be able to wheel into the trophy room and his office when he wanted to, but also be in a part of the house that was more open and he could see the kitchen... be in a place that didn't feel so confined. He liked that idea.
His final night in the hospital, he started getting kind of sleepy. We said goodbye to him for about an hour while we got some dinner in the cafeteria and he got some help taking a shower. When we came back up to sit with him, he was already asleep. After a few hours, we woke him up and said goodbye. In the morning, me and Michelle saw him and he had a hard time waking up. Kept saying how he wasn't trying to be rude and not have a conversation, haha. He was just having a hard time waking up. It went on like that for the majority of the day seemed a lot like he was depressed.
It was time to check out and we got him in the car and he had his eyes closed for the majority of the ride home. The most he woke up was when we pulled through our gates at the house and he spotted a coyote running up the hill.
It was a challenge getting him in the house. It took him awhile to make it up the stairs in the garage and into the house, but he took it slow and did it. The minute he got in the house he sat down in his chair in the living room and closed his eyes. He slept the entire rest of the night, into the next day... and the following night. He would not wake up. And when he did, it was only for a little bit and his eyes seemed distant. It was the weirdest thing. It scared us so much, because for 3 days he did not move from that chair and was starting to be incoherent. He also would not eat anything. He couldn't. After 3 days of this we were scared and called Hospice.

Another Hospital Trip

Luckily, my dad had snapped out of his depression and was so happy to see me and my sister when we came back just a few weeks later for my Baby Shower. He was so happy to have us home. The morning of my baby shower, my dad had a fun time talking to Harlow and saying "Harlowww, it's your Papi Roccccooo!" and feeling her jump all around in my belly :) His face just lit up.
I finished getting ready and by the time I was done, guests were arriving. Shortly after I asked about my dad and  heard that he was having an awful headache and couldn't get out of bed. I was looking forward to my dad wheeling out to the living room to say hi to everyone, and get some food that we had catered and watch me open presents. After all, my dad loved things like showers, even if it was all girls there. But my shower came and went and my dad stayed holed up in the trophy room, unable to get out of bed. Afterwards we checked on him and we had deja vu to how he was the very first day we came home before Thanksgiving.
The following day... Super Bowl Sunday, he was the same. We were hoping he'd be feeling better. There had been a couple days where my dad had had a headache, and it was just that, a headache and it went away. So when it didn't go away on Sunday, we knew he had to go to the Doctor again. In true Covalt fashion, the same time the ambulance was getting to our house to take my dad to the hospital, me and my sister were leaving to take my niece Emily to the airport. Michelle and Emily had a flight scheduled to leave that afternoon and because of everything, my sister had cancelled her flight and was staying to see how everything was with dad, but Emily still had to get back down to San Diego so she could go to school Monday. Michelle, called her husband Rex's mom who lives in Sacramento, to meet us at the Oakland airport to fly back down with Emily, and then stay with the kids the rest of the week. All of this was done literally at the last minute. Thankfully it all worked out!
By the time me and my sister made it to the hospital, my dad had already had another MRI and the results had already come in. My dad had bleeding in the brain and severe swelling, despite his usual dosage of decadron. Because of the bleeding, pressure was being put on his brain and moving part of it past the middle barrier. If it continued to cross that barrier, 'it could be dangerous' the Doctor told us. He was moved to the ICU and we all cried together. There was nothing they could do. They said surgery was not an option and they just had to try to control the bleeding as best they could. There was no other option. My dad had a moment of asking if this was the end. We all cried and he was just so calm and serene. Saying he was okay and ready if this was the end. And that he was only as strong as he was because of the 3 of us. We all just couldn't believe it. It just seemed like things kept getting worse and we didn't want my dad to be in anymore pain.
We asked who won the SuperBowl because none of us got to watch a single second of it because of everything. Unfortunately the Giants won and me and my dad were disappointed. I was excited to be home SuperBowl Sunday because that day was very special between me and my dad. We always looked forward to it and made BBQ Keilbasa and just always enjoyed it. I hadn't been home for a SuperBowl in about 4 or 5 years so I couldn't wait to spend what was expected to be my dad's last SuperBowl, with him. I am thankful I was with him for it, even if it was spent going to the hospital.

A Broken Leg

Saying goodbye after the Christmas trip wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I think because of how normal and healthy my dad seemed. He did not seem sick at all, and given that the full cranial radiation was done and he had started his 1st chemo treatment, I think I was expecting my dad to be around for a good while and for the treatment to really work. After all, so many cancer patients are in treatment for years! I thought my dad would be one of them. He was so determined and did everything the Doctors asked of him and was gaining weight because of all the protein shakes he was drinking haha. I think he thought he could control the cancer and not, in his words, 'look like a cancer patient' and get really thin and frail looking. He thought if he was healthy and beefed up, it would help his cancer go away.
What also helped was that I already had a plane flight home booked for the end of January/beginning of February for my baby shower that was planned on Feb 4th. So knowing I was coming home again in about 3.5 weeks, it was easier to say goodbye and 'see you soon!'
In just those 3 short weeks I was gone, my sister had called me early one morning because my mom had called... my dad broke his leg. I was so surprised to hear that my dad broke his leg. How in the world did that happen?? Apparently he broke his femur clean through, completely in half. It was on the leg that his knee pain was on and the pain had been radiating up his leg since shortly after I left after Christmas. He was in his closet, putting his pants on... went to step in with one leg and the other one broke right out from under him and he collapsed. The femur is the strongest bone in the body, so for it to break, just from him getting dressed, is unheard of.
The orthopedic surgeon put a rod in my dad's leg, so he didn't even need a cast. While she was in there she took a biopsy of his bone marrow because in her expertise, she said the only thing that can break a femur bone the way it had, short of a major accident, is cancer. She was 100% sure there was cancer in his bone, and that's why it broke clean in half without any force being put onto the leg. The biopsy came back, and she was right. She had looked up his previous bone scan and saw a hot spot.. right where he had broken his leg. He didn't have what his Doctor had said it was: 'osteoarthropathy'. The cancer had spread to the bone, but at the time of the bone scan, it wasn't too clear, so his Doctor had overlooked it.
From that moment on, my dad's attitude had changed. Like I said before, it spreading to his bone was his dooms day. Not only had he just learned that the cancer was in his lung, brain and bone, but he had also broken his leg and couldn't walk without a walker. Even with that, he was slow and could barely get around, and it was hurting and tiring. Exhausting. He had to get a hospital bed put in his trophy room downstairs and from that moment on, he would never see the upstairs again. He was limited to the downstairs of the house and even then, it was difficult to move around freely. He started getting depressed and it was hard for me and my sister to reach him because he didn't feel like talking. We relied on my mom for updates.

Christmas

The trip home for Christmas was both wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. We came home planning to absorb everything about my dad and Christmas with him. His attitude was amazing and he was still the same old guy. So optimistic and jokingly told us all about his scary radiation treatments and the mask that he had to wear while they did it. Of course he made friends with the entire radiation staff and was actually sad to leave them when his treatment was done... Only my dad!!
He had started to develop some knee pain in between his initial diagnosis on Thanksgiving and Christmas. It had gotten progressively worse and they had added morphine to his medication list that included decadron for the brain swelling. It would relieve the pain somewhat, but the morphine dosage kept having to be increased. When the Doctor looked into all of his pain, he ordered a bone scan to try and see if he could figure out what all this pain was from.
My dad was so nervous about the bone scan because he was scared the cancer would have spread to his bone, and for him, that was his dooms day.  He felt he could handle the cancer in his lung and brain, but if it was also in his bone, he would feel defeated. When the scan came back and the Doctor said he was clear and it just looked like some osteoarthropathy, he was jumping for joy! He felt renewed and refreshed and felt like he could handle the pain, if he knew it wasn't cancer. The osteoarthropathy wasn't cancer, but it was cancer related. Somehow the cancer was feeding on areas where he already had some arthritis, therefore causing a lot of pain. Me, my mom and sister did think it was weird though, that his knee was in pain, but his shoulder wasn't... he had worse arthritis in his shoulder, so if the cancer was just worsening the areas he had some arthritis in, it seemed weird it would be in his knee, but nowhere else.
He was a trooper and tried to keep on a good regimen to control his pain, because it was getting progressively worse. One thing he looked forward to was us coming home for Christmas and going on the Napa Valley Wine Train on Christmas Eve which he was so excited about. :)

Course of Action

Leaving home Thanksgiving was really hard to do, but we knew we would be back if we had to, after my dad met with an oncologist and we found out more information about what he was just diagnosed with. My dad conference called me and my sister so our whole family was on the line together. He was so nervous on the phone and clearly didn't know what to say to us, or rather how to say to us what the Doctor had said. Long story short... the doctor explained that the type of cancer he had was stage 4 and was very aggressive and had spread to his brain. As of then, the cancer was in his lung and in his brain. The conversation with my dad was confusing and there was a lot of reading between the lines which me and my sister figured out together on the phone privately right after we hung up with my dad. What was really going on, but not being said, was that his cancer was very aggressive and would not be cured at all, even with treatment. He was dying of this and what it came down to was doing treatment... not to get better... but to prolong his life and give him time. How much treatment, how long of doing treatment? We didn't know and we had a lot of questions.
The plan was for him to start full cranial radiation the following week. And after radiation treatments, he would then start chemo. Chemo doesn't work on the cancer in the brain, because the brain naturally protects itself. So the radiation was to treat the cancer in the brain (hopefully shrink all the tumors and lesions, therefore, reduce the swelling), and then after that, he would start chemo, to treat the cancer in the lung.
My dad then asked that we all come home for Christmas so we can be together and that he really wanted us to take the extra trip home for Christmas. Of course we were going to and we made arrangements immediately. Later that night, me and my sister cried on the phone together about knowing what dad was really telling us and we couldn't bare the thought that it was my dad's last Christmas. It still seemed so unreal to us.

Thanksgiving

We went through the motions of Thanksgiving like zombies. Family came over... my mom took over the turkey and we had Thanksgiving dinner... without my dad sitting at the head of the table. It was the worst Thanksgiving we had ever had. My dad was in the hospital and we had to put on smiling faces and entertain the usual Thanksgiving crowd. It felt off... weird, without my dad there. Me, my sister and my mom later talked about how we were all looking around the room in slow motion saying 'so this is what it would be like with dad gone'. And we felt sick to our stomachs. My dad is the life of the party, always the loudest one in the room and him gone left a huge hole in the household dynamic.
We carried on with the plan of doing a gender reveal for this baby. Definitely not the same happy excitement we were planning and expecting. But regardless, we felt like we needed to try to keep something normal and planned. After everyone bit into their cupcake, it was revealed we were having another girl! The only person left who needed to know, was my dad. After barely eating and anxiously waiting for everyone to leave so we could head to the hospital, we packed my dad up a Thanksgiving meal, including a gender reveal cupcake, and left to see him.
I am so thankful we have this moment on film. My dad greeted us at the door in his hospital gown, looking spry and feeling better (thanks to the steroids that maintained the swelling in his brain). He had such a good attitude like always and was happy to eat some Thanksgiving food and was even happier to see we were having a girl (just like he thought).

It all started November 23rd

So I have taken a break from the blog because most of what I needed to blog about, I couldn't really express at the time. So I am going to try to play catch up! These past few months have been stressful and full of emotions. As you all know, it has been quite the year for us. All starting with our daughter Lyla's diagnosis, carrying her to 32 weeks, and then having to say goodbye. Of course just a short while after that we got the joy of finding out we were expecting our Rainbow, another girl.
In the midst of the year wrapping up and the holidays approaching, Adam and I were talking about how much we were ready for a new year. 2011 had not been good to us and we were ready to see what 2012 had in store. Thankfully, we had Harlow's due date on the calendar as a reminder that 2012 was going to be a good one.
Because our family's are miles apart... Adam's here in Alabama, and mine in California, we alternate holidays. One year its Thanksgiving here, Christmas in CA, and the next year vice versa. This year, Christmas was set to be here in Alabama, so for Thanksgiving we boarded our flight to head out west. For the past week or so my dad had had this awful headache that just didn't seem to go away. When Adam and I arrived home the day before Thanksgiving, we were shocked to hear my dad had been in bed all day, and was in bed all the day before as well. Anyone who knows my dad, knows that he is never one to lounge around, let alone actually stay in bed when he's sick or not feeling good. It is just not in his character at all, so to hear he actually had not gotten out of bed for 2 days was so weird to hear and to imagine. After arriving home and checking on him, Adam, myself and my sister urged my mom to try to persuade him to go to the Doctor. We knew something had to be wrong and we wanted to get him feeling better before our annual Thanksgiving feast with all the family the next day. We hosted Thanksgiving every year and my dad had to prepare his masterpiece turkey like he does every year and how would he do that if he couldn't get out of bed?
After much persuasion, he agreed to go to the doctor. He attempted to sit up and get dressed and just couldn't do it. He felt incredibly nauseous and dizzy, and his head was in excruciating pain. We ended up having to call 911 to get an ambulance to come and get him to the hospital. Within 30 min my dad was on his way to the hospital and my mom followed behind them. Adam, my sister Michelle and me stayed behind at the house and went to get pizza for dinner with the kids, relying on my mom to give us updates about what was going on with my dad.
All through the evening we got updates that he was in the ER and waiting.... they were ordering a chest x-ray as part of normal protocol as well as an MRI later on because of the pain in his head. Finally, around 9pm my mom came home and started crying while chopping vegetables to prepare for Thanksgiving dinner the next day. Me and Michelle alarmingly ask what's wrong and whats going on and my sister sends the kids up stairs. Finally, she tells us the chest x-ray came back and they found a grapefruit sized mass in his lung... he has lung cancer.
Immediately we're just kind of shocked because we weren't expecting that. He went in because of a massive headache... no chest pain or breathing problems, so to learn they found lung cancer surprised us. Although shocked, we weren't crying... mostly I think because we felt like it was so treatable and we knew something could be done about it...right? My mom said she was going back about an hour later because he was getting an MRI and the results would be in shortly. We had no clue what any of it meant but me and my sister were thinking he had some sort of a pinched nerve-- that was surely what was causing the discomfort in his head. Obviously dad having lung cancer had nothing to do with that. We were thinking 'let's get dad's head feeling better so he can come home for his favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, and then we will deal with this lung cancer.' This random trip to the hospital  because of head pain was probably just a lucky way for us to also catch this lung cancer!
Nothing prepared us for what my mom would later come home and tell us. She got home around midnight and we all sat on the floor in the living room. The MRI came back and showed cancer lesions all throughout his brain. He had stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to the brain, causing tumors and swelling, which was causing all the pain he was in. I can't even begin to describe the tears and questioning that followed my mom telling us this. Our dad... had cancer... and it had spread to all over his brain. We couldn't believe what we were hearing.