Comfort

After last week's flurry of phone calls, tests, and anticipation, my insomnia made sense.  As I exhaustedly settled the kids in for the night I was certain I would sleep well.  Even when I fell asleep during the one show I watch religiously, I was sure the night was bound to be a restful one, finally.

Here is it, 3:20 a.m. and I am wide awake, seriously contemplating coffee.  I'd like to work out but do not want to break the silent spell cast over the house.  Instead I will write.

Yesterday was a divide and conquer sort of day.  Even though it would have been great for both of us to be at the hospital, Nick and I are trying our hardest to keep some sort of normalacy for the girls as often as possible.  We decided he would stay home to take care of them while I went to the hospital with Cole.

After our typical morning routine, the girls went off to school with Daddy and Cole and I headed to Children's.  Once we arrived, we were shuffled from admissions to pre-op, then from waiting room to waiting room.  Luckily there was plenty of activity throughout each stop to observe.  I cannot believe the way some people treat the nurses there to help their kids.  I was embarrassed for the couple scolding and swearing at every nurse they saw because their doctor had an emergency surgery which pushed back their son's scheduled time.  Yes, I am sure it was frustrating, I wasn't thrilled to wait two hours for Cole's procedure as he clung to me for dear life in between his crying, but yelling at people who genuinely care isn't productive either.

Needless to say, I was pretty happy to move from the pre/post op floor to the surgical floor.  I met with Cole's g.i. doctor and her fellow, then the anesthesiologist before my handing over my sleeping angel to the nurse.  Anesthesia assured me they'd take good care of him then told me to get a cup of coffee, it was going to be a long afternoon.

As my baby's cry faded the further the nurse walked down the hall, I folded his blankie and made my way to the cafeteria as if I were on autopilot.  I grabbed my drink, then settled back into my chair to wait.

This was the only time that flying solo was tough.  I was texting Nick the whole time, so I didn't feel alone, but I was so nervous I just couldn't sit still.  It wasn't even the procedure itself,  it was the drug induced sleep that scared me more than anything.

Finally, the doctors came out.  Together they led me to the consultation room.  Explanation was swift as we moved through the pictures.  The good news, the number of nodules did not appear to increase and the inflammation seemed to decrease.  The bad news, the number of nodules did not appear to decrease and they still lacked any other doctors who had ever seen this before, so they still could not say what they believed these nodules to be.  Once again they took a number of biopsies.  After the results come in, their plan is now to sit as a practice to discuss the findings, then consult with other physicians if necessary before moving forward with any different courses of treatment.  The hope is that the new biopsies and the various function tests sent to Cincinnati would hold a key to unlocking this mystery and giving us a treasure, the path to a healthy boy.

The minutes moved like molasses between meeting with the doctors and being called into recovery.

To turn a corner and see your baby helplessly strapped down, hooked to monitors and ivs, yet tranquil is strange.  He looked like a doll in the giant bed.  The nurse informed me they did in fact have to insert a breathing tube during the procedure, so in addition to his other discomforts his throat would likely be sore as well.

As I waited for my little guy to stir, I couldn't help but think about how precious life is, not to mention just how fragile it can be.  As I held his tiny hand, I was thankful he was safe, and wished this was the last time he would have to endure this for a while, even though in reality, I know it is not.

When he awoke he went right for my hair, his favorite lovey.  I didn't mind as he grasped my locks like they were gold.  The rest of the afternoon he faded in and out of his slumber on my chest.  I just closed my eyes and rocked him, enjoying the peacefulness.  You know, no matter how hard this can be at times, it is these quiet moments I will cling to, like Cole does to my hair, for they bring me comfort.  Just like coming home to my girls running to greet me at the door with their giant hugs and my husband, waiting for me with a big kiss.  They are the best medicine to melt away a trying day.   

Waiting Room

Tell me this-why isn't there a place where you can pace in a hospital? Better yet, where you can run? Maybe a track? The last thing I want or even need is to just sit. And I bet the couple yelling at the nurse who didn't do anything wrong could have used a place to burn off some steam.

I do appreciate the drink voucher and had sense enough to make it a decaf, otherwise I don't think I'd manage holding this iPod in my hands, let alone be able to type!

Anyway, here it is so far, Cole's currently in the operating room for his colonoscopy. The doctor said it would be and hour to an hour and a half. I will share what I can as soon as I can.

Beginnings

Music is powerful.   A few strains of a melody have the magic to transport us back to another time in our lives.

My soundtrack is as vast and varied as the emotions the tunes evoke.  From Bye Bye Bye which takes me to a silly concert with an old friend while Don't Blink has me driving away from the hospital after watching my dad slip away.  Dave Matthews and Crash sends me to my in-laws' living room, with Nick, my then boyfriend, pulling out his guitar and playing the song he learned for me, then to our first dance together as we started our new life.  The miraculous melody of Good Morning Beautiful will always give me a sigh of relief, just like it did when it stopped our colicky baby from screaming and Toby Keith's Red Solo Cup will forever remind me of my little wild child belting it out in the kitchen as she was preparing "to party."

No matter what the song is, sometimes you hear it right when you need it.

I was recently visiting in the hospital when I heard the tinkling strains of a lullaby.  It had been quiet in the room while my mom slept, and without the boisterous rhapsody of my usual evening, my mind was wandering.  Instantly a smile crept across my face while I recalled the euphoria of seeing my babies for the first time after the months of waiting and hours of labor.

Then, I thought about the proud parents, one floor down, holding their precious son or daughter.  Gazing into the eyes of absolute innocence, a new beginning, a story yet to unfold.

The first few moments of life are magical.  In the peaceful minutes when time seems to hold its breath, and the world does not intrude, you find both an end and a start.  It's the end of a mystery, finally meeting someone you have loved long before you even knew they existed.   It's the beginning for this miracle, breathing new life into your world and theirs.

No matter what amazing moments I have experienced in life, nothing has been more breathtaking and inspiring than these beginnings, the start of each child's new adventure.

As the strains softly subsided, I thought about how much my own children have grown since their birth days.  The years have flown by faster than I had ever expected.  Even though my oldest is beginning trade in her "babyish toys" for nail polish and fashion, I love that she still asks me to sing her lullabies at night, that for now, she too still cherishes the music of her beginning and I can't help but wonder where it is that the tune takes her while I sing her to sleep.