I can finally see my life going back to normal now. Bean had another follow up doctors appointment almost 2 months after this whole ordeal started — and today she got the ALL OKAY from her amazing doctor. I am so thankful that she received the care she did — the entire two months taking everything into consideration. I am so thankful it was not more serious than it could have been (this was the ‘best’ option out of the list of possibilities) and as I reflect on all this chaos, I have realized something more that I am thankful for.
While I never felt that things were going too fast (well, it was fast, but necessary) and everything was very well explained to me, that moment when I was holding her in that little bed and they told me I had to get up and leave while she was wheeled into surgery — her screaming that she was scared — no one can ever prepare you for that.
The moment I saw her little body in that giant, stale hospital bed with machines on her beeping while she quietly moaned for mommy in the recovery room. Broke my heart. She was not quite awake yet, but she knew she was hurting. Her heart rate was up above 170bpm, she having trouble breathing and she desperately wanted to have that pulse-ox monitor off her toe. I had never felt more useless as a parent than in that moment. Wanting so badly to pick her up and run her out of that room. Wanting so badly to take that pain away or to rewind time and try to make all of that never happen.
I couldn’t pick her up. I wanted to make it all better. She wanted me to make it all better. & in that moment I have never been more thankful that for the past 3 years and 2 months she has fallen asleep next to me — for more nights than not. That big hospital bed and her tiny body allowed more than enough room for me to crawl in to the bed with her.
I cuddled in, wrapped my arm around her — the position we had been used to so many nights before. She felt my breath on her neck, grabbed my arm and started the gentle pinching she does (like she used to when I breastfed her) when she is not feeling well. Before she didn’t know I was there, but now she finally feels the familiar comfort.
Her heart rate started to normalize. Her oxygen level returned to a less scary level. Her painful moans started to fade as she drifted to a peaceful sleep, in the arm of her comfort — me.
I spent the next two nights and three days holding her in bed. There was no struggle for either of us to get comfortable — there was not struggle in getting her to fall asleep, because all she needed was her mama, her Tinkerbell pillow and the ability to gently pinch my arm. While I had to ‘put her through’ the testing that made her cry, the painful bandage changes and the residual pain from her surgery — I was able to comfort her in a way I may not have been able to had we not been used to bed-sharing. It could have been a lot more traumatic for a baby of 3-years-old who had never slept anywhere than home and I will forever be grateful I was able to bring her that comfort in a situation where I felt so painfully useless.Share This Post: Tweet