Is over-tired, emotional blogging as dangerous as drunk dialing old boyfriends? Probably, but since I never did the latter I figured I should do the former. So much for the in and out in 24 hours routine. It’s my own fault really. I’m pretty sure in wednesday’s note it said, “Patient smiley and ready for discharge. Mother…..not so much.” It’s just plain hard to hear difficult things about your child, even when in the scope of life they’re not so bad. So, I cried. The calm, on top of everything mom left the building with Elvis.
As in most other situations, humor has been good medicine, not the only medicine, but still good. My window looks out on a lovely brick wall and I thought, “I guess this is payback for being the mom who turned her kid’s O2 down in the NICU” Hey, don’t judge if you don’t know the details. Aidan and I had a lovely day sitting on our front porch (in the doorway) watching all of the kids go by in their little red wagons, over and over and over. Then, an angel from heaven descended (thank you Liz from EEG) and unplugged us so we too could do laps in a little red wagon. Freedom was a huge gift after a mere 48 hours. And I’m a mom who survived three months here? When did I become such a wuss? All of the medical staff here have been more than amazing, including Dr. Shephard (ooops, must do something about those delusions). Their kindness made all the difference.
I know I’m rambling but I have to tell you that I discovered Aidan’s special power: He’s simply amazing. He has been smiling the entire time. He’s been stuck 9 times with a needle because his tiny veins are so hard to find and hasn’t even wimpered. No joke. I have a lot to learn from him. Back to the trenches we go.
P.S. Never got a chance to post this and now we’re HOOOOOOMMME to the new new normal.