I’m Sorry.

-
Sometimes, we are stuck in situations we can’t control. Sometimes, the ONLY thing we CAN control is our attitude. Sometimes, those situations are so sucky that the world gives us PERMISSION to feel sorry for ourselves and we do. I do. I was sitting by my son’s hospital bed during admission number 4 million and was throwing a little pity party for myself....It was Friday. My son was admitted the night before and we were looking at about a week behind these four walls. We had plans for the weekend. Plans to get away for for a few hours, my husband and I. We were going to spend time together, eat our favorite food and celebrate his birthday. All these plans changed  quickly and were replaced with needles, IV fluids and hospital gowns. So, I did what I normally do and pouted a bit. I thought, “of course this happened! We had something planned and every time I plan something fun for myself, it doesn’t go like I imagined” and on and on my pity part went. In the thick of my internal whine fest I heard a small and quiet voice, “Someone is longing for the very thing you are upset about right now.” At first I thought that was crazy! Who would be wishing to be in the hospital with their child? Then it hit me! The faces of all the mommas I know would want to be here went though my mind. The mommas that don’t have their babies to cuddle any more. The mommas that are in the ICU by there intubated, sedated baby wishing they were in MY spot.
This is a community. A community of medical mommas that have laughed together, celebrated together and cried together. I’ve walked past little caskets with race cars and tiaras and my heart aches for what is gone. It’s those moms that would give anything to be here on a regular hospital floor drinking a Starbucks with a discharge date in mind. There is ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS SOMETHING to be grateful for! So, to the momma that is in the icu or the momma with empty arms, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was complaining. I’m so, so sorry I took the life I’m living for granted. I’ll put my big girl panties on and know that I, in this hospital, by this bed am blessed. And I will say a prayer for you tonight.❤️

Comments

  1. UnknownOctober 16, 2018 at 6:38 PM

    Prayers & hugs coming your way. I know this is so hard. Your getaway will come soon. Take a deep breathe & lean on God❤️🙏🏻

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownOctober 16, 2018 at 9:30 PM

    It’s hard when you are knocked down quite often. It’s okay to have a “This stinks” moment. You have that right.

    Good thoughts-thinking of Mama’s that would give anything for have a “This stinks” moment.

    We’re human; we’re allowed to be down for a moment. But, choosing to stay down in that constant moment is a whole other thing. You’re not wallowing; you’re venting!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

About Case.

-
Image
Case is our fourth child. He has 3 sisters. At 22 weeks pregnant I had a routine ultrasound. The tech seemed calm, ordinary. She said we were having another girl. We named her Parker. "She" was healthy. Typical. Fine. A week or two after that "normal" ultrasound we got a call. There was a spot on our "baby girl's" heart and one on "her" kidney. Not a big deal. At about 25 weeks of Pregnancy, We had a second level sonogram about an hour away from our home.  I was told our baby would be different. Very different. It's limbs were way behind in growth. It had heart problems, kidney problems, and was small. Very small. The doctor strongly suspected Down syndrome or Trisomy. He did an amnio. I cried. He told me this was not my fault. I was doing everything I could. The baby was just made different. Two and a half weeks later, I got a call. I was there, in that hotel. On a mini "getaway" with the family. The doctor called an
Read more

Half-Brained Thoughts from a Special Needs Momma.

-
Image
Top ten thing's I've seriously considered doing when I'm low on sleep and patience. 10. Throwing Case's feeding pump out the window. Really. Some days that thing must beep hundreds of times. He's carrying it around constantly. It beeps when it's empty. It beeps when the tubes twist, kink or clog. It's an annoying, beautiful, life giving machine that I have a love-hate relationship with. 9.  Just driving. And driving. And driving. Alone. With the music blasting. I'd come back eventually but only once I'm well rested with a manicure. 8. Taking the 10+ (front and back) partially filled out papers asking me if my son is "still medically complex and if so to prove it", crumpling them up and leaving them on the doorstep of the office with his bottles of meds, tubes, pump, syringes, all his medical records and maybe some vomit with a note that reads, "Yes, he is still very much the same as he was the last time I did paper work to pr
Read more

I have a confession.

-
Image
I have a confession. I'm tired of fighting the food battle. For all of the 17 months Case has been alive, I've been fighting my butt off to get this child to eat right and grow well. The food battle started as soon as Case was born. They whisked him away from me via helicopter (even though we were only minutes away in Magee Women's Hospital) to Pittsburgh Children's Hospital. Once he was gone, the food battle started. I pumped around the clock every three hours to have milk for the time when they allowed me to nourish his tiny body with bottles then with breast. If only it would have been that easy. He was about a week old when they first let him eat, after a day or so they stuck a tube down his nose. Eventually they let me try to nurse. He was too weak. Once he was sent home, they took the tube out of his nose and I was feeding him fortified breast milk every 3 hours (around the clock). I was also pumping. This went on until I could no longer keep my milk (around 3 m
Read more