(I passed out at midnight in my typical laptop-on-lap-head-slouched-down kind of way while writing this, so I’m sorry for the tardiness posting this!)
Lyla passed all of her tests today! She takes after her mom in the straight A’s department. She takes after her father with her ability to rock. Even though I can throw a mean head bang. Chest x-rays are all good, EKG is a thumbs up, blood work is perfecto, urine is good, and her temp has stayed put.
Our big milestone today was getting rid of the annoying external pacemaker wires and scary drain tube that were still nestled right next to her made over heart. Yes, they literally pulled them out. I made the mistake of finding this out first hand. Any mom would volunteer her voice to sooth her babe when the nurse asks “Do you want to come in with us so you can try and sooth her on the table?” Talk about tugging at my heart strings emotionally and Lyla’s physically…literally. MISTAKE to go in. Don’t think I’ll be able to get that yanking sight out of my head for a while. But all of that mess is behind us and we no longer have to prance around hanging cables or attached bulbs full of raspberry liquid. She’s wire free! And so much easier to snuggle.
We’ve been doing a lot more walks lately as we’re not dependent on the in-room monitor so much. I am anxious to walk too to burn some of these hospital food calories off (#1 Children’s Hospital in the country = #1 cafeteria in the country. Puts some restaurants to shame!) So we walk, taking in the sounds of the hospital.
The woman at the end of the long corridor leading to the sacred Cardiac ICU doors, clutching onto another woman, crying so hard I can hear her before I even round the corner to put the embrace into view. Oh no! I feel so bad for her. I hope her child didn’t die. Geez here come my own tears full of guilt for parading my recovering daughter in front of her grief. Even a Children’s janitor I passed paused and put her gloved hand to her open mouth to display jaw-dropping sympathy. And then it hit me. As their hugs pulled apart, the other woman’s face that was previously buried in the sobbing woman’s shoulder was smiling. Wait, this isn’t a sad situation, it’s happy! The woman was crying tears of joy! She was hugging a doctor, thanking her with tears of joy. Priceless.
And then the damn beeping everywhere. The elevators beep. The medicine pumps beep. The doors beep. The bracelet id scanners beep. And the dreaded beep – the pulse ox monitor alarm that will wake you in the middle of a dead sleep, rush to your kiddo’s side, and pray that the fluorescent numbers rise back up. Sometimes it’s a fluke and the summoned nurse doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Sometimes she looks concerned and makes your gut drop. Sometimes I’ve seen a flock of nurses run to a beeping room, but thank goodness never ours. Even as I’m resting my head down on my deluxe fold out chair for the night, I swear I’m going mental hearing beeping when there’s none to be heard.
Hate the noises of the crying babies. It’s not everywhere, but we’re fortunate Troy & I are able to be with Lyla 24/7. The assumption that adoring parents can hover over their healing one’s side until they’re discharged is inaccurate – not everyone can get away from other binding children, work, or homes far across the country for weeks at a time. Our roommate is a miniature 5lb, 1-month old baby who has been at Children’s since he was 8 hours old. He’s had heart surgery and intestinal surgery the first 2 weeks of his life, one of which clipped his vocal chords that left him unable to express his cries. The poor parents live in Rhode Island with their 4 year old daughter and cannot be here as much as they’d like to be. The spectacular nurses do a good job of looking after him, but all today and night the multitasking couple were absent. This little dude is TEENY and I just want to scoop him up when no one is around to hear his muffled yells for help. I’ll have to admit my mommy instincts were uncontrollable a couple of times as I snuck over to shhhhh or sing to him. But on the positive side, he’s headed home Monday to be with the mama that he needs.
Love the “She’s sooooooo cute!!” praises we get from all of the nurses. Lyla is a current fav :)
Heard over the loud speaker “CODE BLUE out on the playground. Any doctors and nurses available. CODE BLUE out on the playground." Shivers.
Saturday’s noises should be pretty tame. It’s a day of relaxation and intermittent monitoring. Sunday should be our final day at this institute of medical magic. We’re ready to bring this little girl home where she belongs.