Having a Kiddo in the Hospital Is Harder than Hard!

So over at Rev Gals here is their Friday Five for this week (and yes I realize it’s Saturday)!   On RevGal’s it reads and asks us to respond to the following post:

Hospitals are very much on my mind, because my husband Chuck is having his second knee replacement on Monday. We will be there very early in the morning because he is the first surgery of the day at 7 am.

So consider your experiences in the hospital in your various capacities: being a patient; parent, child or spouse of a patient; chaplain; minister; or visitor. In what ways have you experienced your times in hospitals? Think of 5 ways and share your blog address in the comments section when you play.

1. I remember being alone with a toddler and having been to the ER for two nights in a row because as a mom I knew something was wrong.  And more than the heart burn that the dr diagnosed it as the first night.
2. I had someone with me the first night but my husband was away as dean of Laurel Ridge so it wasn’t easy for him to get home either night or for the week that would come.  But the second night I feel blessed in some ways because the doctor working on him had a aha type moment and tested his pancreatic enzyme levels.   And yup that was the answer to the problem.  My little guy had what we thought at the time Acute Pancreatitis.  I remember that I was devastated when they told me he would be admitted for at least a week.
3. As a pastor I knew that they don’t admit adults or children without it being a serious issue and I was scared for his life and didn’t know what to do at midnight alone with my very sick child.
4. Thankfully my mother in law came down from Winston-Salem (a 5 hour drive) the next day to be with me and offer me some support.  The whole thing brings tears to my eyes still.  Because other than her, one friend, and daily or multiple times a day calls from my hubby (as cell service would allow) I had no support.  No church members visited or offered to bring anything.  I felt alone a lot and all I wanted to do was cry but knew that would only get my little man a little more worked up.
5. I remember the nurse on the day we were leaving telling me that little ones that come in with numbers that high usually don’t leave.  Meaning you guessed it they die.  I’ve never forgot it and remember it every time that the doctors fear his pancreatitis is flaring because it’s not longer acute but chronic.
6. What parent wouldn’t be freaked out and exhausted from not getting much sleep ( sleeping in bed with their little one for a week) and wondering when he was going to start to feel better and when they would stop giving him morphine and give him real food.   But as you can see from the pictures below he did get well and we did have some play time so to speak.

                        

   

One day and Two Days Old….

I missed yesterday’s post and not because nothing happened of significance 8 years ago but because I’ve been trying to get ready for that certain 8 year old’s 9th Christmas.  So let’s go back to 2005….

My little man was a day old and I was determined to stay away from the hospital till noon~ish so that I could get some much needed packing done (by this point my boss at Hallmark had given me a few weeks off).  I even had a college student over for the day to help me pack up some stuff.  Moving day was coming quickly and we needed to be out of the apartment.  Well, I couldn’t stay away and I said to Allison (the young lady helping me) “Hey can you drive me to Dekalb Medical so I can see him and hold him?”  I threw in “you will be the first to meet him”.  When we got there the social worker meet us at the door and for a moment my heart stopped — but she just happened to be down there waiting on the birth father to come in to sign some paper work they needed on their end.  Of course he was a no show but she assured me this was not a problem and in fact she had good news that I could visit the nursery now without going through the birth mother.  We continued to talk a little and it was my prayer that the birth mother would take us up on the offer for a safe warm place to spend Christmas and then head into rehab.  And then who comes walking down the hall but the birth mother herself, needing at least a smoke.  Then we all went back up to her room where the nurses came in and did Littleman’s hearing test (which he passed).  Allison and I stayed awhile and I held my baby tight.  We left late afternoon with the promise to him and to the birth mother that Joe and I would be back by dinner.

When Joe and I returned for dinner I knew I could go straight to the nursery and we could spend time together just the three of us for the first time.  But my heart couldn’t do that without first going to see the birth mother.  The nursing staff stopped us to tell us the baby was in the nursery and that he had just stopped crying and feel asleep.  I indicated that we were on our way to check in with the birth mother first.  Joe nor I felt really sure about what was going on because the atmosphere at the nursing station told us something was up.  When we got to the birth mother’s room, the sheets where off the bed, the hospital given diaper bag contents where on the table but the bag itself was gone but the room itself was a mess.  It became clear to me that the birth mother had just left, left without checking out or anything.  I knew earlier that day she was looking for a hit of something she couldn’t get in the hospital.  Joe thought maybe she was discharged.  But I knew if that were the case the room would have been cleaned completely and the nursing staff would have just told us that.  She simply left — somewhat abandoning her child — yet knowing he was in our care.  So from there we went into the nursery and for the first time spent time with our baby  — just our family!  What a treat that was and the nursery staff said every time he hears your voice he quiets down and he’s bonded with you just as if you had given birth to him.  I was so touched.

We left that night, feeling a bit anxious not knowing what would happen since the birth mother had sort of disappeared.  I couldn’t wait to talk to the attorney first thing the next morning.

So day two of Littleman’s life began with a frantic call to the attorney’s office.  But my frantic nature quickly turned to utter surprise.  Here it is December 23, 2005 and the doctors were clear he wasn’t going home or anywhere in 2005.  But the attorney said, “Well, Rev. Moore I was just getting ready to call you because the hospital social worker just called and needs us at the hospital by 11 am.” I asked if this has to do with the “missing birth mother” and he said “nope but it helps our case if she tries to fight the adoption.  This has to do with your baby coming home today.”  I didn’t know whether to scream cry or what to do.  I was totally unprepared for this – other than a few diapers, bottles, the formula from the hospital and of course the car seat.”  Oh not to mention we didn’t have a car quite yet because it was in the shop with a major repair (we sort of said well, we NEED it by 10:30 and they got it done).  My baby would be home for his first Christmas!

We were overjoyed and scared to death at the same time.  In the state of GA the birth parents had 10 business days to revoke their surrender but beyond that I felt so unprepared for a baby to sleep in my house that night — there wasn’t a bed for sure.  But ready or not he was coming home — all 4 pounds 8 oz’s of him.

When we arrived at the hospital I felt as if we signed our lives away as we had stacks of paperwork to fill out for the state, for the hospital and for our attorney (not sure which was worse the purchase of our home a few days before or this).  Then the doctors went into their speech how they really couldn’t explain why he was doing so well and didn’t really seem to have the withdrawals that he should from the drugs that were in his system.  I finally said, “I don’t know what you believe but I believe in an awesome God and we’ve longed to be parents and this is our Christmas miracle.”

That night I braved Walmart to buy a bassinet because I couldn’t bear to have my baby not sleeping in a real bed his first night at home.  I’m not sure there was ever a quicker trip into a walmart and back into the apartment.  And we even got the thing put together without to much trouble — but nothing was a trouble because we had a baby to love and care for.  We were mommy and daddy!

A love hate relationship for sure! 

 

Daddy’s the popular one today! It’s definitely LOVE!