Sunday, December 2, 2018

10 Years!

10 years ago tonight, I was lying all alone on a hospital bed. My husband had gone home to be with our oldest. My newly-born youngest was lying in a NICU in a different hospital 1/2 of a mile away. I was crying. My heart was hurting. I felt so very alone and so very guilty that my baby was in an incubator with no one to hold him, no familiar voices to hear, no homey feelings of anything of family.

When we had taken a tour of the hospital a month before, they had assured me that they had a closed-circuit television system for moms in my circumstances. They assured me that whenever I wanted to see my baby, I had only to turn on the tv and dial in a station that only I could see. It would be linked to a camera above my baby's bed and I would be able to watch him anytime.

So, through my tears, I turned the tv on, dialed in the station and . . . nothing . . . static. I called the nurse's station and explained the situation. They assured me a technician would come as soon as possible and get it all set up.

So I waited.

And waited.


It took 2 hours. And when the technician came, he told me there was nothing he could do. The system was down.

I felt so desperate.

I called the nurse's station again, as I was told.

Could someone please come to transport me to the Children's Hospital? As soon as they can, I was told.

So I waited.

And waited.


After an hour, I decided it was ridiculous. I got myself out of bed. And I walked the 1/2 mile, through the maze of halls and elevators and the tunnel linking the hospitals together, to go find my baby. I remember feeling like I was breaking out of a jail, wondering if anyone thought it was odd to see a woman in a hospital gown (covered by a robe, I wasn't completely insane) waddling along and if anyone would try to stop me. Nobody did.

I was in so much pain and I was so tired by the time I got to his bedside. And I was all kinds of emotional. But to be able to touch his hand, and look at him, and talk to him, that was all I needed. I sat there for a long, long time. Until my head started to droop and I knew I needed to get some rest.

I can't remember if anyone took me back to my room. I don't really remember anything else of that night. I know the next morning they came to say I was discharged. I remember being so relieved to see my husband and have him push me in a wheelchair down the long corridors. It was the hardest thing ever to kiss Caedmon goodbye, get in the car without him, and head home. Lying in bed with him tonight, hearing him tell me he loves me, getting one last hug from him before I left his room, it feels like a world away.

Happy birthday, kiddo. We have been through a lot, you and I. So thankful we get to be on this journey together. So thankful I can go in your room anytime I want and see your sweet face.

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