"Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue." Proverbs 17:28
Today I am a fool.
Remember the OB resident who said the insensitive comment about me possibly loosing my bladder? "You might never pee again, but you'll be healthy and have a healthy baby so you'll be fine." The residents name is Jodi. I know her name now. She has visited me several times over the past few days. During her very short lunch break, she has swung by to visit me. To comfort me. To help me get through these days.
During our visits she admired the Christmas stocking that I'm cross-stitching for Zion. So today she brought me the cross-stitch picture that she has just finished. It is gorgeous. The subtle shading can only be appreciated by a fellow cross-stitcher who knows the hours spent on details few people will notice.
Then she says it. "This is for my Dad. I haven't framed it yet, but I already gave it to him. Last Christmas. Before he died."
I don't know why he died, but she must have known it was coming because she gave him this special gift before it was yet complete. I can only imagine that she visited him during his stay in the hospital. That she swung by during her lunch hour to visit him. To comfort him.
I had assumed that her earlier comment was an insensitive, sheltered person brushing off my pain because she hadn't experienced anything like it. I was wrong. She wasn't minimizing my situation out of ignornance, she knew more than I that my bladder really isn't important. She knew that my baby is not going to care whether or not his mom can pee. He is just going to want to have me there, to admire his crayon drawings and cherish his gifts.
Oh how I regret posting that story on my blog and laughing about her with the nurses. I am a fool.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Quotable
Cute quotes:
Zion and Elise's take on adding a new baby:
Elise: "I'm going to be two big sisters soon!"
Zion: "Zion be big sister brother!"
Morbidly funny quotes:
My reaction to learning that they might leave my uterus in until a second surgery several weeks after my c-section:
"All I want is to wake up from surgery and hear that my uterus is gone. I'm so over my uterus."
A med student, trying to comfort me after I learned that the placenta was growing into my bladder:
"Just think of it this way, worst case is that you never pee again, but you'll have a healthy baby and you'll be healthy."
I should clarify that while I might loose a piece of my bladder, I am not as risk of loosing my whole bladder. As Jeffrey says, "there are somethings they just can't teach you in medical school."
On another note, while the OBs think that the placenta has grown into my bladder, the Urologists think that might not be true. If my bladder is not involved, they will go ahead with my hysterectomy when Wyatt is born. So we still have hope that this will all be over on Monday. I'd sure appreciate prayers for a smooth surgery and conclusion to this all.
Zion and Elise's take on adding a new baby:
Elise: "I'm going to be two big sisters soon!"
Zion: "Zion be big sister brother!"
Morbidly funny quotes:
My reaction to learning that they might leave my uterus in until a second surgery several weeks after my c-section:
"All I want is to wake up from surgery and hear that my uterus is gone. I'm so over my uterus."
A med student, trying to comfort me after I learned that the placenta was growing into my bladder:
"Just think of it this way, worst case is that you never pee again, but you'll have a healthy baby and you'll be healthy."
I should clarify that while I might loose a piece of my bladder, I am not as risk of loosing my whole bladder. As Jeffrey says, "there are somethings they just can't teach you in medical school."
On another note, while the OBs think that the placenta has grown into my bladder, the Urologists think that might not be true. If my bladder is not involved, they will go ahead with my hysterectomy when Wyatt is born. So we still have hope that this will all be over on Monday. I'd sure appreciate prayers for a smooth surgery and conclusion to this all.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Undone
Yesterday I celebrated my 50th day in the hospital. But even more, I celebrated having only 10 days left until the birth of my son, completion of my surgery, and being done with this crisis.
But my joy was cut short. An MRI scan revealed that Wyatt's placenta has now grown through my uterus and into my bladder. In order to remove the placenta, a portion of my bladder would have to be removed. My bladder would stretch out again, so this in and of itself is not horrible. But, trying to perform bladder surgery in the middle of an already scary, risky and bloody hysterectomy combined with c-section is a pretty bad situation. And so my OB's have decided that they will perform my c-section as planned on October 5, then sew me back up with the placenta still inside my uterus. They will then block off some of the arteries leading to the uterus. Then we will all hope that my body tolerates the placenta, lessens blood flow to my placenta/uterus, and allows the placenta to shrink and disengage from my bladder. Around 6 weeks after the c-section, they will open me up again, and remove my uterus with the placenta inside.
Logically, I know that after October 5 we will be in a much better position than we were in on August 4, when I checked into the hospital. While I will still be at risk of infection and heavy bleeding, I will have a healthy and safe baby boy and I won't be at risk of bleeding out. And I will get to go home.
But emotionally, this new burden is devastating. You can read my previous post to get an idea of how excited I've been to reach the end of this journey. Honestly, my anticipation has been less about my son or going home, and more about escaping from danger and being back able to take care of my family. I ache to just be done.
Now we aren't done. After asking people to care for my kids during 3 weeks of early pregnancy illness, 9 weeks of hospitalization and 3 weeks of post c-section recovery, we will have to again call on help during a second surgery and recovery. After 26 weeks of not being allowed to pick up and carry Zion, I'll go in for surgery again just when I finally recover from the c-section. After coming to terms with the possibility of going home with Wyatt still in a special care nursery, we may have to figure out what to do if Wyatt gets discharged and I'm still here in the hospital.
It is just too much. I am done. For the past couple of months I have prayed for strength to keep on walking through these struggles. Now I am in a heap on the floor, telling God that I am done and the only way for me to keep going is if He carries me. Because my strength is spent and gone.
And He has responded. I hear His voice through our friends' notes of encouragement. Throughout my day, He has reminded me of how He has carried us so far during this crisis, and long before that. I feel peace, unexplained and unearned.
And now we wait. We wait for the birthday of our son. We wait to find out how my surgery goes and how my body reacts. We wait for my homecoming and recovery. We wait for another surgery and more recovery. We wait to be a normal family again. But most of all, we wait on the Lord. For, "they that wait upon the LORD will renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. " Isaiah 40:31
And we wait to be done.
But my joy was cut short. An MRI scan revealed that Wyatt's placenta has now grown through my uterus and into my bladder. In order to remove the placenta, a portion of my bladder would have to be removed. My bladder would stretch out again, so this in and of itself is not horrible. But, trying to perform bladder surgery in the middle of an already scary, risky and bloody hysterectomy combined with c-section is a pretty bad situation. And so my OB's have decided that they will perform my c-section as planned on October 5, then sew me back up with the placenta still inside my uterus. They will then block off some of the arteries leading to the uterus. Then we will all hope that my body tolerates the placenta, lessens blood flow to my placenta/uterus, and allows the placenta to shrink and disengage from my bladder. Around 6 weeks after the c-section, they will open me up again, and remove my uterus with the placenta inside.
Logically, I know that after October 5 we will be in a much better position than we were in on August 4, when I checked into the hospital. While I will still be at risk of infection and heavy bleeding, I will have a healthy and safe baby boy and I won't be at risk of bleeding out. And I will get to go home.
But emotionally, this new burden is devastating. You can read my previous post to get an idea of how excited I've been to reach the end of this journey. Honestly, my anticipation has been less about my son or going home, and more about escaping from danger and being back able to take care of my family. I ache to just be done.
Now we aren't done. After asking people to care for my kids during 3 weeks of early pregnancy illness, 9 weeks of hospitalization and 3 weeks of post c-section recovery, we will have to again call on help during a second surgery and recovery. After 26 weeks of not being allowed to pick up and carry Zion, I'll go in for surgery again just when I finally recover from the c-section. After coming to terms with the possibility of going home with Wyatt still in a special care nursery, we may have to figure out what to do if Wyatt gets discharged and I'm still here in the hospital.
It is just too much. I am done. For the past couple of months I have prayed for strength to keep on walking through these struggles. Now I am in a heap on the floor, telling God that I am done and the only way for me to keep going is if He carries me. Because my strength is spent and gone.
And He has responded. I hear His voice through our friends' notes of encouragement. Throughout my day, He has reminded me of how He has carried us so far during this crisis, and long before that. I feel peace, unexplained and unearned.
And now we wait. We wait for the birthday of our son. We wait to find out how my surgery goes and how my body reacts. We wait for my homecoming and recovery. We wait for another surgery and more recovery. We wait to be a normal family again. But most of all, we wait on the Lord. For, "they that wait upon the LORD will renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. " Isaiah 40:31
And we wait to be done.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Less Than 2 Weeks
I feel like dancing these days. I want to do a little jig to show just how happy I am to be 13 days away from meeting Wyatt and moving on from this rocky pregnancy. I'm not just rejoicing over the end of this trial, but I'm celebrating the painful journeys that we will not have to take. Wyatt is almost 35 weeks. We will not have to watch him struggle for life in a ventilator. We will not have to watch him grow, burdened physically and mentally by simply showing up too early. We won't have to wonder if he is one of the 10% who when born at 28 weeks don't survive. We will get to hold our baby soon after he is born.
I know that life is never certain, and other catastrophes such as illness, infection, or injury could endanger our baby boy. If he was born today, he would likely require some breathing and eating assitance. But the longterm effects are small or nonexistant. Even in the next 13 days, I could also hemorrhage and endanger both of us. Perhaps I should postpone my happy dance until I'm out of surgery and we are both stable.
But, we are getting so close to escaping the big bad monster that has been stalking us for the past few months. And so I just have to celebrate now, even if it is still a little premature.
I know that life is never certain, and other catastrophes such as illness, infection, or injury could endanger our baby boy. If he was born today, he would likely require some breathing and eating assitance. But the longterm effects are small or nonexistant. Even in the next 13 days, I could also hemorrhage and endanger both of us. Perhaps I should postpone my happy dance until I'm out of surgery and we are both stable.
But, we are getting so close to escaping the big bad monster that has been stalking us for the past few months. And so I just have to celebrate now, even if it is still a little premature.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
To My Niece
Dear Rose,
Welcome to the world little girl! So what do you think of life so far? Coming from your cozy, dark world, I bet the lights in the hospital are awfully bright. How does it feel to touch your mommy for the first time on the outside? How does your daddy's voice sound, now that it's not muffled from the womb? Do you like the sweetness of your mamma's milk? What do you think of your grandparents? Are the blankets soft and warm?
By the time you are old enough to answer these questions, you won't remember a time when the world was new. You won't remember back when your mom and dad were just husband and wife, not quite yet a full family. But we will remember.
I will remember your birth as the day that I became an aunt and Jeffrey became an uncle. We have been waiting for a long time to have a niece to spoil and love. I'm so glad that now we have you.
I can hardly wait to meet you. Right now I'm in the hospital, waiting for your cousin Wyatt to be born. Elise and Zion are excited that you have been born. In fact, Elise has volunteered to let you sleep in her room if you like. But I'm guessing you'd rather stick close to your mommy and daddy. So we'll postpone that slumber party for a few years.
Enjoy your brand new life little one!
Lots and lots of love,
Aunt Brooke
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Typical Day
6 am - night nurse takes my vitals - blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. On a side note, my normally low blood pressure is especially low in the mornings. It amuses me when it is low enough to trigger the an alarm of beeps and flashing warnings of "low!". The alarm is tripped at below 75 for the first number. My lowest has been 68/40. The nurse also gives me my Zofran.
6:15 am - medical student rounds. She asks the standard questions, "any bleeding? any loss of fluids? any contractions? any pain? baby still moving?"
6:30 am - resident rounds. She asks the same questions. Then she briefly listens to my heart and pokes my stomach to check for tenderness. I wonder exactly what she expects to discover during her 2 second listen of my heart. Isn't she aware that the nurses do a more thorough heart exam several times a day? My current OB resident is much too cheerful for 6:30 in the morning.
8:30 am - all of the OB folk round. The group consists of the MFM doctor, OB residents, and med students. About 6 people peer at me and again ask the standard questions (see above). This is my chance to ask the MRM doc any questions, but after 42 mornings of rounds I rarely have any questions anymore.
Next I gather my breakfast supplies and devotional material on my side table so I'll have everything accessible when I'm stuck in my bed for my morning monitoring. It takes an hour for food to arrive from the cafeteria, so sometimes I order it the day before, sometimes I order it early in the morning, and sometimes I just eat the yogurt and cereal that I keep on hand.
9:00 am - my day nurse arrives to again check my vitals and ask the standard questions. In addition she listens to my heart and lungs, and gives me my vitamins and iron. She hooks me up to the monitor to check on Wyatt. His heart rate and my contractions are typically recorded for an hour twice a day. Just yesterday I got my time reduced to 30 minutes twice a day. This monitoring is the equivalent of a "non-stress test".
10:00 am - my nurse takes me off of the monitor. My monitoring often takes more than an hour when Wyatt is particularly active and keeps squirming away from the sensor. The nurse then helps me get ready for a shower by covering my PIC line with a plastic bag and tape.
10:15 am - shower
10:30 am - get dressed, then painfully peel the tape off of my arm. Under my arm, the tape always separates from the adhesive. So I spend the next 10 minutes picking a layer of sticky goo off of my arm.
After this, my mornings vary a little from day to day. On Mondays, the dressing on my PIC line is changed. On Tuesday, I get a massage in my room. On Thursdays, we have our "Incubators Support Group" for all of the pregnant moms in the unit. During group, we play a game or complete a craft. The leaders usually out number the moms, and it feels very juvenile and patronizing. But it is something different to do and I get to meet other moms, so I attend faithfully.
Early afternoon is spent on lunch, chatting with other moms, cross-stitching, TV, reading, or on the computer if I get an Internet connection. Sometimes Jeffrey is able to stop in for a short lunch break with me. My sister Amber and I have a phone date at 2:30 each day. Usually I'm in good spirits when she calls. But some days she catches me when I'm not filling my day with activities, but am instead just lying on my bed feeling sad.
4:30 pm - most days, my wonderful caregiver brings the kids over to visit with me after their naps. One of my favorite activities is to send each kid one at a time with the caregiver to go for a ride on the hospital train. Not only do the kids love the train, but this also gives me about 20 minutes of alone time with each kid. When other adults are around, I am likely to chat with the adult. So I think it is important for me to be alone with the kids sometimes. When I'm with Zion, we usually work together on a puzzle. He adores puzzles and wants to complete them over and over again. With Elise, we usually read books or we tell "turn stories" where we take turns creating the next piece of the plot. She is especially enjoying reading out loud to me lately.
5:45 pm - Jeffrey arrives from work and we all eat supper together. We eat at a table in the lobby of my unit. We generally have the room all to ourselves. Sometimes the caregiver brings food from home, and sometimes we order take out. It is a bit of our normal routine that we've transported to the hospital. I love it.
7:20 pm - kids and caregiver go home. Most days Jeffrey heads home as well to help put the kids to bed. On Thursdays he stays we me instead so we can have a date night in the hospital. We watch TV, play games, or go for a spin downstairs in the lobby.
9:00 pm - my night nurse hooks me up for my evening monitoring.
10:00 pm - I get off of the monitor. I get my last set of questions from the nurse and measurement of vitals.
10:30 pm - I chat with Jeffrey on the phone before we go to sleep. I have got to tell you, a good night on the phone is a far cry from sneaking in to tuck in my sleeping babies, laughing with my husband over the funny things they did that day, and then falling asleep close to the 3 people I love most in the world.
11:00 pm - I thank God for another day with Wyatt still tucked safe inside of me and then I go to sleep.
6:15 am - medical student rounds. She asks the standard questions, "any bleeding? any loss of fluids? any contractions? any pain? baby still moving?"
6:30 am - resident rounds. She asks the same questions. Then she briefly listens to my heart and pokes my stomach to check for tenderness. I wonder exactly what she expects to discover during her 2 second listen of my heart. Isn't she aware that the nurses do a more thorough heart exam several times a day? My current OB resident is much too cheerful for 6:30 in the morning.
8:30 am - all of the OB folk round. The group consists of the MFM doctor, OB residents, and med students. About 6 people peer at me and again ask the standard questions (see above). This is my chance to ask the MRM doc any questions, but after 42 mornings of rounds I rarely have any questions anymore.
Next I gather my breakfast supplies and devotional material on my side table so I'll have everything accessible when I'm stuck in my bed for my morning monitoring. It takes an hour for food to arrive from the cafeteria, so sometimes I order it the day before, sometimes I order it early in the morning, and sometimes I just eat the yogurt and cereal that I keep on hand.
9:00 am - my day nurse arrives to again check my vitals and ask the standard questions. In addition she listens to my heart and lungs, and gives me my vitamins and iron. She hooks me up to the monitor to check on Wyatt. His heart rate and my contractions are typically recorded for an hour twice a day. Just yesterday I got my time reduced to 30 minutes twice a day. This monitoring is the equivalent of a "non-stress test".
10:00 am - my nurse takes me off of the monitor. My monitoring often takes more than an hour when Wyatt is particularly active and keeps squirming away from the sensor. The nurse then helps me get ready for a shower by covering my PIC line with a plastic bag and tape.
10:15 am - shower
10:30 am - get dressed, then painfully peel the tape off of my arm. Under my arm, the tape always separates from the adhesive. So I spend the next 10 minutes picking a layer of sticky goo off of my arm.
After this, my mornings vary a little from day to day. On Mondays, the dressing on my PIC line is changed. On Tuesday, I get a massage in my room. On Thursdays, we have our "Incubators Support Group" for all of the pregnant moms in the unit. During group, we play a game or complete a craft. The leaders usually out number the moms, and it feels very juvenile and patronizing. But it is something different to do and I get to meet other moms, so I attend faithfully.
Early afternoon is spent on lunch, chatting with other moms, cross-stitching, TV, reading, or on the computer if I get an Internet connection. Sometimes Jeffrey is able to stop in for a short lunch break with me. My sister Amber and I have a phone date at 2:30 each day. Usually I'm in good spirits when she calls. But some days she catches me when I'm not filling my day with activities, but am instead just lying on my bed feeling sad.
4:30 pm - most days, my wonderful caregiver brings the kids over to visit with me after their naps. One of my favorite activities is to send each kid one at a time with the caregiver to go for a ride on the hospital train. Not only do the kids love the train, but this also gives me about 20 minutes of alone time with each kid. When other adults are around, I am likely to chat with the adult. So I think it is important for me to be alone with the kids sometimes. When I'm with Zion, we usually work together on a puzzle. He adores puzzles and wants to complete them over and over again. With Elise, we usually read books or we tell "turn stories" where we take turns creating the next piece of the plot. She is especially enjoying reading out loud to me lately.
5:45 pm - Jeffrey arrives from work and we all eat supper together. We eat at a table in the lobby of my unit. We generally have the room all to ourselves. Sometimes the caregiver brings food from home, and sometimes we order take out. It is a bit of our normal routine that we've transported to the hospital. I love it.
7:20 pm - kids and caregiver go home. Most days Jeffrey heads home as well to help put the kids to bed. On Thursdays he stays we me instead so we can have a date night in the hospital. We watch TV, play games, or go for a spin downstairs in the lobby.
9:00 pm - my night nurse hooks me up for my evening monitoring.
10:00 pm - I get off of the monitor. I get my last set of questions from the nurse and measurement of vitals.
10:30 pm - I chat with Jeffrey on the phone before we go to sleep. I have got to tell you, a good night on the phone is a far cry from sneaking in to tuck in my sleeping babies, laughing with my husband over the funny things they did that day, and then falling asleep close to the 3 people I love most in the world.
11:00 pm - I thank God for another day with Wyatt still tucked safe inside of me and then I go to sleep.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Real Love
This afternoon I watched a sweet romantic comedy. I won't mention the name here as the content of the film isn't really important. It was the typical - boy sees girl, boy falls for girl, boy wins girl's heart - sort of romance. What wasn't typical way my reaction to it.
I turned it off. It wasn't romantic at all to me. It, like so many of the love songs on the radio and romance movies on TV celebrated the very beginnings of love. Our society is enamored with a romance that says, "I just met you but I love you, I want you, and I need you." I think we should celebrate a love that says, "I have seen you at your worst and I still love you. I know your wrinkles, rolls, and scars and I still want you. I will sacrifice my wants and desires to serve you." That is real love.
Real love is trading his yummy sandwhich and eating my hospital food instead. Real love is waking up early on a Sunday to be with me when the doctors round. Real love is being brave when I'm scared. Real love is holding me when I cry. Real love is believing me and forgiving me when I say I'm sorry. Real love is saying he's sorry. Real love is doing the laundry, cooking, and everything I used to do and not complaining. Real love is squishing into a hospital bed with me to watch a move for a date night. Real love is believing that I'm strong, even when I don't believe it myself.
I don't think I will ever see a movie, read a book, or hear a love song that can compare with how Jeffrey has loved me in the midst of our struggles. I think this is the truly romantic stuff that should be written up in love stories.
I turned it off. It wasn't romantic at all to me. It, like so many of the love songs on the radio and romance movies on TV celebrated the very beginnings of love. Our society is enamored with a romance that says, "I just met you but I love you, I want you, and I need you." I think we should celebrate a love that says, "I have seen you at your worst and I still love you. I know your wrinkles, rolls, and scars and I still want you. I will sacrifice my wants and desires to serve you." That is real love.
Real love is trading his yummy sandwhich and eating my hospital food instead. Real love is waking up early on a Sunday to be with me when the doctors round. Real love is being brave when I'm scared. Real love is holding me when I cry. Real love is believing me and forgiving me when I say I'm sorry. Real love is saying he's sorry. Real love is doing the laundry, cooking, and everything I used to do and not complaining. Real love is squishing into a hospital bed with me to watch a move for a date night. Real love is believing that I'm strong, even when I don't believe it myself.
I don't think I will ever see a movie, read a book, or hear a love song that can compare with how Jeffrey has loved me in the midst of our struggles. I think this is the truly romantic stuff that should be written up in love stories.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Perspective
A few of you have requested updates on the ladies in my unit.
Amber – safely delivered her twin girls on schedule at 34 weeks. They are doing great, but will still likely be in the special care nursery for a few weeks. Amber moved out of here and over to a hotel across the street in order to be near her daughters. I know that she was as anxious as I am to get out of this place, but watching her sadness as she left the friendship and support of the nurses here made me wonder how I’ll feel when it is finally time to go home.
Shana – supposed to be induced today, at 37.5 weeks. I will likely not know how things have gone for her until she reappears on our unit as a “postpartum” mom.
Dawn – back from the OBICU, and still pregnant. They got her contractions under control and halted her labor, for now.
June – wow, she has had an eventful past couple of days. Yesterday afternoon a gush of blood lead to the discovery of significant cervical changes and the onset of labor. Over she went to the OBICU. She and I have become good friends, so she had a nurse tell me the startling news. They tried to stop her labor, but none the less before very long her contractions were very painful, causing dilation, and only 3 minute apart. Her physician told her to get ready to deliver her babies, and they call for anesthesia to administer an epidural. Then her labor stopped. Completely. So today she is still pregnant, stable, and moving back to my unit.
But June’s excitement doesn’t stop there. Her brush with preterm delivery was last night. Today brought more drama. Her in-laws flew in last week from
Kelli – new to our unit. I met her tonight – she is another newbie referred to me by one of my favorite nurses here. She is 23 weeks along and her water broke. She is looking at either a very long stay, or a very young preemie. She has an 11 year old daughter by a previous marriage. Her daughter in-utero is from an ex-boyfriend. Her parents are both deceased. She has been floating from one friend’s house to another while trying to find housing of her own. She is worried about how to afford a car seat. I don't know if she's even thought about medical bills. She lives 2 hours away and is dependant on her ex-husband and his new wife to drive her daughter over for visits. She’s not even sure who will wash her laundry or who will get her winter clothes out of storage when the temperatures get cold.
I look around my room while I type. My door is covered with cards from friends. My freezer is full of food cooked for me by my mom. Flowers from my grandparents brighten my shelf. Framed pictures of our little family, my extended family, and my husband's extended family smile at me – each couple in the frame still married and happy. My closet is brimming with books, games, DVDs, art projects, snacks, magazines, building sets, and crafts. Décor from vacation spots across the country pepper my curtains and walls. Match box cars, puzzles, paintings, and bubbles are tucked throughout the room, evidence of my two healthy little kids at home. A basket full of newborn clothes shows the promise of little Wyatt, whose stay of 32 weeks in the womb is something to celebrate around here.
I am blessed. Tonight I don’t even have to try to look on the bright side. But I’m guessing that once the high of a weekend filled with visits from my kids, friends, and parents wears off, I will once again need a reminder of how much I have to be grateful for. It may only take a visit with the other moms on my unit for me to remember just how much I have.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Ups and Downs
Downs
- reaching my 4 week mark here, only to find myself more sad than happy because I have 4.5 more still yet to go.
- Jeffrey being sick, which meant the loss of even the tiny little bits of time that we normally get alone together.
- our insurance company sending us a letter denying coverage of my hospital stay
- more of the same - stuck in hospital, away from my family, my baby still in danger, etc. The list is short, but frankly I don't need anything new bad to make life hard right now.
Ups
- watching Zion play with Benson Hayton, and imagining him playing with his brother
- chatting with Sharlene Hayton, and eating her cooking =)
- Jeffrey staying at the hospital with me to work on a paper instead of working on it more efficiently at home. We barely even talked while he was here, but now days just having him close by sends the loneliness away.
- our insurance company approving coverage of my hospital stay, stating that the denial letter should never have been sent to us, and apologizing for their mistake.
- my parents visiting this weekend! The joy of anticipation before hand and fun company while they are here are enough to boost my spirits for many days.
- my hubby and kids arriving at the hospital very early yesterday morning after they dropped Sharlene and Benson off at the airport. The kids woke me up by climbing into my bed, clad in pjs for some snuggle time. A morning in pjs with just our little family was some of the best of normal life at home, but transported to the hospital. It was exactly what I needed.
- our new friends bringing Sabbath lunch to us at the hospital. It felt like a potluck, complete with green bean casserole, special-k loaf, and vege chicken. Again, a bit of normal life transported here cheers my soul.
- a better conversation with the neonatologist. The outcome for a 32 week baby is much, much better than the outcome that we discussed at 27.5 weeks when I arrived at the hospital and first spoke with the neonatologist.
Everyday has its ups and downs. But most importantly, everyday has passed so far with my baby still safe in me. And so I will endure more downs, and search for more ups until he is ready to be born.
- reaching my 4 week mark here, only to find myself more sad than happy because I have 4.5 more still yet to go.
- Jeffrey being sick, which meant the loss of even the tiny little bits of time that we normally get alone together.
- our insurance company sending us a letter denying coverage of my hospital stay
- more of the same - stuck in hospital, away from my family, my baby still in danger, etc. The list is short, but frankly I don't need anything new bad to make life hard right now.
Ups
- watching Zion play with Benson Hayton, and imagining him playing with his brother
- chatting with Sharlene Hayton, and eating her cooking =)
- Jeffrey staying at the hospital with me to work on a paper instead of working on it more efficiently at home. We barely even talked while he was here, but now days just having him close by sends the loneliness away.
- our insurance company approving coverage of my hospital stay, stating that the denial letter should never have been sent to us, and apologizing for their mistake.
- my parents visiting this weekend! The joy of anticipation before hand and fun company while they are here are enough to boost my spirits for many days.
- my hubby and kids arriving at the hospital very early yesterday morning after they dropped Sharlene and Benson off at the airport. The kids woke me up by climbing into my bed, clad in pjs for some snuggle time. A morning in pjs with just our little family was some of the best of normal life at home, but transported to the hospital. It was exactly what I needed.
- our new friends bringing Sabbath lunch to us at the hospital. It felt like a potluck, complete with green bean casserole, special-k loaf, and vege chicken. Again, a bit of normal life transported here cheers my soul.
- a better conversation with the neonatologist. The outcome for a 32 week baby is much, much better than the outcome that we discussed at 27.5 weeks when I arrived at the hospital and first spoke with the neonatologist.
Everyday has its ups and downs. But most importantly, everyday has passed so far with my baby still safe in me. And so I will endure more downs, and search for more ups until he is ready to be born.
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