Grateful for his smile: Regina mother embraces son's new reality after traumatic brain bleed

Beautiful Mess is a series that mines the wisdom of parents in Saskatchewan who have experienced difficult circumstances.

In some ways, Griffin Mounts is like many 13-year-old boys. He likes Pokemon and watching his favourite TV shows. He's starting to grow facial hair.

Unlike most teens, Griffin lives in Wascana Rehabilitation Centre and requires around-the-clock care. He uses a wheelchair and requires a feeding tube.

He only communicates through smiles, but his mother sees more in him than just those facial expressions.

"We were told that he wouldn't understand us, and he wouldn't be able to communicate, [but] he does," Brooke Bakken said, remembering doctors' predictions for her son five years ago.

"He has an ability to be happy with very simple things and he really does seem genuinely happy, and I think that brings me peace."

Five years ago, Bakken's life as a mother looked dramatically different. She was co-parenting with her ex-husband and shuttling eight-year-old Griffin between birthday parties and hockey games. 

That all changed in February 2020.

One morning, Griffin woke up complaining about a headache, then collapsed. The doctors believe an artery in his brain ruptured, possibly due to an underlying health issue he had since birth. It resulted in a severe brain bleed.

Griffin was rushed to hospital in Regina and had emergency surgery. Then he was flown to Saskatoon Children's hospital and put on life support.

The following months are a blur to Bakken.

Her days were spent at Griffin's bedside, with things changing day to day. She researched potential treatments, even if they meant going out of the country. She held out hope to figure out something to bring back the son she knew.

Then, a month into the ordeal, the world shut down. Visitations were suddenly limited to keep people safe from COVID-19.

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For the next six weeks, Bakken was the only visitor Griffin was allowed. She was not allowed to leave his room. 

"It was hard for me for obvious reasons, and it was hard for his other family because they couldn't visit," she said. 

Griffin was eventually moved to Regina, and Bakken and her ex were able to take turns visiting their son in the hospital. At that same time, they were modifying their homes to be able to accommodate Griffin's wheelchair and new physical challenges.

The learning curve was steep. They had to learn how to feed him through a tube, deliver his meds, move him from bed to chair and make sure he didn't get bedsores.

It was all hands on deck. Griffin required around the clock care. Bakken relied heavily on her parents to help on the weeks Griffin was with her.

Over the years, Griffin's lungs got worse. He'd suddenly need high levels of oxygen — more than they were allowed to have at their home. They were calling an ambulance multiple times per week, and constantly in and out of emergency.

Everyone was running on fumes. Something had to give.

A nurse suggested they apply to move Griffin into Wascana Rehabilitation centre. Bakken said it was an easy decision.

"It just wasn't doable anymore."

The families have worked to make Griffin's room at Wascana Rehab feel like home. It's filled with his Pokemon stuffies, art made by his friends and family members, and books he used to enjoy reading before the injury, like Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Dogman. He is surrounded by staff that know and love him, and is transported to school everyday. 

In the evening, his parents take turns visiting him.

Every time the phone rings — whether she's at work or it's the middle of the night — Bakken is braced to drop everything and rush to the hospital. She knows vacations are important, but she doesn't want to be far from home in case something happens.

Bakken described the past five years as an adjustment.

"At first you go through what feels like mourning. The loss of the way your child was and just wanting them, like, trying to find something that will bring that back."

Now she has come to think of Griffin as having lived two lives. She can see the original Griffin in videos of an excited toddler walking for the first time, or drawing his own homemade Pokemon cards and poking fun at her attempts. 

Then there's Griffin now. They watch shows, read and listen to music. When the weather is nice, they tour around Wascana Park. Bakken gauges Griffin's interest and enjoyment by his smiles.

Bakken said her son has taught her about gratitude.

"If he can be happy with the little that he has left of abilities, you can usually try and see something good in your day."

Bakken said she knows it's not realistic or even healthy to never let herself be sad. But she's come to a place where clinging to the past or worrying about the future just doesn't serve her.

Instead, she focuses on enjoying each day she has with her son.

"He's just a sweet kid and I don't know what he would have been like if this didn't happen, but I also choose to believe this is his path," she said. "Whether this sounds cheesy or not, I think that things happen the way they're supposed to. You learn from those situations and you maybe help other people along the way." 

 Do you have parenting themes you'd like to see tackled? Do you know a parent who has some hard-earned wisdom to share? Email [email protected].