|three days old and wide awake. She loved to hold hands...|
She is tuned into so many machines, we weren’t quite sure how this whole thing was going to happen. Would we have to hold her like an antenna and move her around to make sure all her bells and whistles didn’t go off? Well…sort of. When the nurse came in to help us get her out of her little plastic container (All I could think was, when they open that thing, is it going to “burp” like
|Our little burrito..|
|Exhausted. But never have we been happier than this moment...|
|catching flies on daddy..|
As joyous and slightly hilarious as the third day was, day four lives on as one of the worst day of my life. All bad days I had ever encountered could not hold a candle to what this day was like. I had officially lost squatters rights at the hospital and would no longer be able to stay there. Insurance covered three days and the hospital had been kind enough to offer me a one day extension on my stay, even allowing me to keep my own room. I had been discharged from service, but despite this the nurses still asked me if I needed anything and were nice enough to get me some snacks and juice overnight. It was incredible, and I never had a chance to properly thank them for being so kind to me. Maybe they knew what I was about to go through and took a little pity on me as I am sure they have seen it a hundred times. We spent the day in Sophias room passing her around like a little football and marveling over how well she was doing. The day started off well enough and there wasn’t too much going on. Just more watching and waiting. But as the day wore on I started to get antsy. I knew what was coming and I was beginning to get a knot in my stomach. I tried to ignore it, but instead of going away it got bigger and bigger. I talked to Joe about what our approach was going to be when it came time. He promised he would call me if anything changed and first thing in the morning if I missed rounds. He said over and over again, “Don’t worry, babe. Don’t worry. You will be okay. It will all be okay.” Over and over and over. It was not working. I didn’t feel okay, I felt sick to my stomach with the worst nausea imaginable. And it continued as the night hours stretched on. 11pm. This was it. I was going to leave my child. I would have to leave my child where she was and go 35 miles away from her. There was no way around it. I could not stay there. Technically, both parents were not allowed to sleep in her room. The rules are one parent can stay overnight. they seemed like they would be willing to bend that one for us and they had the “accommodations” for two, but they were less than stellar for a gal in my condition. If it weren’t for the damned c-section.No, I had to go home. Joe refused to leave. Not in the selfish, “no you can’t stay because I want to” way, but in the “no, you need to go home and take care of yourself” way. In those moments I had a love/hate relationship with Joe. He was trying so hard to take care of me and at the same time, take care of Sophia. I can’t stress enough how much I love this man. He was trying to be whatever I needed him to at the time and no matter how much I told myself that he was right, I hated him for it and I think he knew it. It pained him to see me distressed, but he knew it was the right way to go. After much discussion with my mother and his father, he decided to be the one to drive me home. Between the three of them they decided it was time for me to take care of myself. How could they expect me to leave? They weren’t going to stand down on this one. They knew it was best and they stuck to their guns. They were taking over for the night. My father in law would stay at the hospital with Sophia and Joe would drive me home. My mother would be at the house to receive me and make sure that I slept and took care of myself and then take me back in the morning. It had been discussed, decided and settled. They were right, you know. I knew it then and I know it now. I had been there for 4 days straight, sleeping very little, ignoring orders to lie down and give my body its chance to heal before mommy duties came into play. Her stay at the hospital was a sort of blessing in disguise in that regard. The one and only time our irregular situation actually worked to my advantage in a way. She wasn’t home yet, so there was no late night feedings to worry about, no diaper changes no walking the halls to settle her down. I could go home and actually sleep. Yeah, right. Sleep. As if I was going to leave the hospital and go home and sleep soundly for a good 12 hours like the last four days had never happened. No fucking way. But it was a necessity. I had to be more diligent in my recovery and I wasn’t doing a good enough job at that point. I knew they were right. To try and sleep in the hospital room would have been stupid. Hardly anything had happened the last four days with Sophia, and the odds were that nothing was going to happen tonight either. I needed to separate myself from the situation for a night and pay attention to my needs. I knew they were right. I knew they were right and I hated them for it. Even if it was fleeting, I felt so angry towards them. But mostly….mostly I was just incredibly sad.
Joe and I pack my things and get ready to leave. For the first time since before she was born, my eyes begin to well, only this time, I cannot stop them. My heart felt like it was breaking. I was leaving the one place I truly wanted to be and the pain I felt was only magnified by the knowledge that Joe was not staying the night with me, but leaving me to go back to the hospital. I wouldn’t have Sophia and I wouldn’t have him, either. I had to leave my husband and my daughter and it was killing me. Even now just thinking about it makes my eyes water. I have never felt such despair and sadness in my entire life. It is a feeling I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I kiss Sophias hand and say good bye and tears begin to roll down my cheeks. Big, fat, giant tears and I cannot stop them. I wipe them away only to have a hundred more take their place. We walk out to the car, Joe holding my hand but keeping quiet. I think he knew there was nothing he could say to make me feel better. We get into the car and begin to drive and suddenly I am overcome. I can fight no longer and I begin to cry. Heaving cries that shake my shoulders and force me into a slouch. I look out the window and up at the sky, willing the water works to cease and desist, but I am ignored and they press onward. They appear and throw themselves overboard and refuse to listen as I silently beg them to go away. “ Please stop crying Corinne. Please? Please stop.” I cannot. Joe reaches over and tries to take my hand. I pull away and I cannot look at him. I am embarrassed. I am ashamed of myself. How was it possible to hold myself together so well before and completely forget how to do it now? Where was my control? Gone. Packed its shit and gave me a big “sayonara sucka” as it ran out the door. The previous months build up coupled with the last four days were just too much a burden and the ability to hold back is gone for the time being. I sneak a look at Joe as he drives, praying he isn’t looking at me. He isn’t. He has his eyes stuck to the road, and they were brimming with tears. He was also sad. Sad that his wife had to leave, knowing he would feel as I did if it were him. I reached over and grabbed his hand. My love for him grew even more in that moment. Because he wasn’t crying for me. He was crying WITH me. My sadness was his sadness, my heartbreak, his. When I tell people our story and they ask how we managed to get through it all, I always have the same answer. We were one person throughout. We felt angry together. We felt confused together. We felt love together. We felt everything… together. We had our less than fantastic moments, just like everyone else does, but we came through all of those the exact same way: Together. We were a unit from start to finish. It is the thing that made us stronger. We leaned on each other and we could not have functioned any other way. We were connected throughout all of this and it was the most amazing thing.
We arrive at our house and I am a mess. I am exhausted in every single definition of the word. I want to close my eyes and pretend it isn’t happening, not think about anything, not talk to anyone. I want to go to sleep. My mother is there and she is ready to take over. She hugs me and tells me it will be alright. I love my mom. She knew I would be a mess and was ready for it. I tell you what. That mothers intuition shit is no joke. She knew that I had been forcing myself to be strong and she also knew that this was going to be the last straw. She held me and hugged me and told me she loved me and to not worry. Joe kisses me, and gets ready to leave, anxious to get back to the hospital. We knew we had left her in perfectly good hands, but it wasn’t the same as one of us being there. He had to leave and I understood why. We say our “I love you” and “good bye’s” and he is gone. My mother tries to console me and offer me food or some tea, anything to distract my mind for a moment. I am not hungry. I am not thirsty. I am so tired that I can barely stand up and for the moment, a little broken. The stress has gotten to me and I can hardly bear it. My father in law had been sweet enough to bring my big recliner into the living room so I didn’t have to try and walk up the stairs to go to bed. I go to it, and my mother tells me to get in and go to sleep. The doctor had prescribed me some Percoset to help with pain management and I have not taken yet. I can honestly say that I really wasn’t in that much pain. I do not like taking drugs, of any kind. Loss of control bothers me (are we shocked by this admission yet?) and taking a pill would, in my mind, leave me in its grasp until it had worked itself through my system and I could never handle that idea. What if I had a bad reaction or something? Except for the occasional Aleve or Tylenol, I do not take pills very much. I had been taking Tylenol at the hospital to take the edge off and it had been working just fine. But tonight, I didn’t care. I was already so out of my comfort zone dealing with the feelings that had taken over that I grabbed the pills and took one. Okay, I took a half of one. I have never taken them before and I was afraid of how it would affect me. I wanted to be able to wake easily as early as possible and get going and I was afraid it may make me too loopy. I took half and fell into a dreamless rest, half asleep, half awake, waiting impatiently for the sun to rise. The little sleep I did get definitely made me feel less horrible. Less tired than I had been and a little less distraught. I admit, it felt good to get some rest, but I was ready to go. When we arrive back at the hospital, Sophia is sleeping. She had yet another uneventful night and I missed nothing. Joe gives me a hug and offers me his chair at her side so that I can sit with her. I feel better. I feel more at peace now that I am near her again. It is truly incredible to me how much this child had of my own heart already. I had only known her for four days and it was like we had been together a lifetime already. The day goes by too quickly and it is once again, time for me to go home. I have less of a difficult time going now, and I get home to rest so I can come back the next morning and do it all over again.
|No more incubator for this kid! She's a big girl now!|
On the 7th day, things have changed. Sophia has been moved from her incubator to a regular crib. She has imporved so greatly, she no longer needed the additional heat and support the incubator provided. She has an echo done and normally those results are not given to us until the next time at rounds. Today was different. The doctor comes to see us within the hour to deliver news. “I am not entirely sure how to say this” and he pauses. Oh God. What it? Is she okay? What is going on?!! “It seems that Sophias physiology has had a dramatic change and part of her condition affecting the pulmonary valve (the part normally requiring the
|trying to explain what has just happened..|
|TOUGHEST 9 DAY OLD YOU WILL EVER MEET. SHE LOOKS SO HARDCORE.|