Two Steps Forward...

This post was originally written on Tuesday in the wee hours of the morning.  I wrote it, but had to quickly set my computer down when little man started crying.  I put my phone down on top of it - directly on the backspace key.  I deleted the entire post without even knowing it.  When I sat back down on the couch and saw it gone, I just threw in the towel and closed the computer.  Being totally new to this blog thing, I didn't realize until today that it had been saved!  So here it is....several days later.

Shortly after waking yesterday, my hopes were high.  Little man seemed to have turned a corner.  He was in a wonderful mood.  The day before we had lost the IV (little Houdini actually worked it out of his arm) and the pulseox monitor from his toe.  He was FREE!  So yesterday morning we were able to roam the halls of the hospital together, play on the couch, and I even heard giggles out of him!  Mid-morning he willingly drank 2 oz of formula from a bottle, it really seemed we would be on our way home if he continued progressing at that rate.  We even got a visit from Ronald McDonald!

I got him down for a nap, knowing he'd get some pain meds at 1:00, and we'd work on drinking 3 oz 30 minutes after that.  3 oz is our magic number.  He's got to drink that amount in one sitting for a few feeds before it's safe for us to go home.  Unfortunately, a 10 month-old does not have the language comprehension to understand that benchmark (believe me, I tried many times yesterday to explain it to him!). 

He was awoken around 12:45 to have vital signs taken (they never let a person just rest in the hospital!), and he was PISSED OFF about it.  I may be responsible for that trait, just ask my husband how pleasant I am if he wakes me before my alarm goes off.  So, despite my best efforts to calm him enough to feed him, he clearly just wanted to go back to bed.  We gave him the meds and waited the half hour, while I held, bounced and rocked him.  Then I tried to get him to eat.  No such luck...gagging, choking, pushing at his bottle - as though I were trying to feed him poison.  So I bargained with him.  I told him he could go back to sleep for a bit, if only he'd agree to eat a lot when he woke up. 

He took a brief nap, but woke up still crabby, and still unwilling to eat.  Bad sign.  We were told we wouldn't be going home, and worse yet, they needed to put an IV back in to prevent dehydration and give him a little more time to heal.

Now, I consider myself a fairly strong person.  I've been through quite a bit in my life, and I've come out the other side.  However, yesterday I lost it.  I cried.  A lot.  I am positive exhaustion and stress played a major role, but I just couldn't take it anymore.  I couldn't watch him continue to suffer in pain, frustration and exhaustion.  Thankfully my mom donated her afternoon to relieve me for a bit so I could get out of the hospital.

I returned still tired but slightly refreshed, my dad brought my daughter, and my husband drove back up after a full day at work.  My family was together, albeit briefly, and that's what matters.

Here's to a better day.