Not-so-quick Update
Hey friends!
I feel like I've been gone forever and we have so much to catch up on.
Sorry to keep you waiting on my fabulous trip to Nashville and fill you in on a tiny update {read this old post for a hint} but I'm busy taking care of the world's sweetest patient today.
Wow, yesterday was exhausting.
I'm ready for a drink.
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all of your sweet words about our incredible BabyGirl. Her surgery went well and we have the medical teams and staff at MUSC to thank for handling our baby with such care. For those of y'all who are new followers, our BabyGirl was diagnosed with Craniosynostosis at birth and needed corrective surgery to allow her brain room to grow properly.
You can read more about that here, here, and here.
I think it was tremendously harder emotionally this go around. Which I wasn't expecting.
Last time I was so worried about her being put under anesthesia at her age and size, only 7 weeks and still under 10lbs.
But to be honest, I was an exhausted new mom and my concern for her came in the immediate.
What will make her stop crying? When did she last eat? What time should she go down for a nap? Is her diaper wet? How much has she pooped today? Is it time to feed her again? How do I pee with a baby in my arms? Will I ever sleep again? Will I ever figure out what it is that she wants?
Worrying about her skull being cracked open seemed like the perfect time to make her well-being someone else's concern. Even if just for a short time. I know that sounds crazy, but I think some of y'all might know what I mean.
So this time, when they took us back to pre-op and she cried and cried and cried and looked at me like "wtf" I knew she wasn't just being a fussy newborn I knew she wanted her breakfast. I finally know what my child needs, pretty much every time, and it broke my heart to withhold it from her. Her surgery was pushed back an hour because another baby, in the NICU, needed our surgeon to save their child's life. It felt wrong to begrudge another mother her child's life because it meant my child missed their breakfast, and now their nap as well. How trite. And yet, I couldn't explain that to my child. She looked at me and did her spirit fingers over and over and over willing me to understand what she needed. I felt so connected to her and it was so hard not to fix the situation for her. It was her first lesson in knowing that her mother can't fix everything or give her everything she needs. And it made me cry.
They had a hard time getting one of the springs out so her surgery took a little bit longer than expected.
This made the waiting room feel shakier than a turbulent flight.
I know now that things don't always work out well just because you will them to.
I know that just because someone is in God's hands, it doesn't mean that he leaves them here with us.
I know that only God decides who's he ready to call home.
My thoughts were full of these truths as we waited.
And that was new for me, I'm a positive person and don't let the uncertain fill my head.
But I did yesterday.
When they brought us back to the PACU I heard my baby wailing even before I could see her. I stepped ahead of the nurse and followed that horrible sound behind the curtain to find my sweet BabyGirl jump from a nurses arms into mine and nestle her head in my shoulder. She thrashed and wailed and moaned, at that point crying was an understatement, in my arms for quite a while as her nurse fumbled to push morphine into her IV.
Yet it was the best she's ever felt in my arms.
Even as her puffy sweaty self rolled medicinal ointment all over my shoulder and chest, and as she threw up all over herself and me, and cried sad little tears into my neck meeting my own tears that wouldn't stop coming down my face, it was the best I've ever been.
The saddest, yet the happiest.
She slept in her own crib last night.
All.Night.Long.
In fact, she woke up happy and Matthew and I played by her side all morning until she was ready for her morning nap.
Which is why this post is late, but I'm sure y'all understand.
PS-I have about a billion emails to catch up on, so don't worry that's on my agenda for this weekend!
I think it was tremendously harder emotionally this go around. Which I wasn't expecting.
Last time I was so worried about her being put under anesthesia at her age and size, only 7 weeks and still under 10lbs.
But to be honest, I was an exhausted new mom and my concern for her came in the immediate.
What will make her stop crying? When did she last eat? What time should she go down for a nap? Is her diaper wet? How much has she pooped today? Is it time to feed her again? How do I pee with a baby in my arms? Will I ever sleep again? Will I ever figure out what it is that she wants?
Worrying about her skull being cracked open seemed like the perfect time to make her well-being someone else's concern. Even if just for a short time. I know that sounds crazy, but I think some of y'all might know what I mean.
So this time, when they took us back to pre-op and she cried and cried and cried and looked at me like "wtf" I knew she wasn't just being a fussy newborn I knew she wanted her breakfast. I finally know what my child needs, pretty much every time, and it broke my heart to withhold it from her. Her surgery was pushed back an hour because another baby, in the NICU, needed our surgeon to save their child's life. It felt wrong to begrudge another mother her child's life because it meant my child missed their breakfast, and now their nap as well. How trite. And yet, I couldn't explain that to my child. She looked at me and did her spirit fingers over and over and over willing me to understand what she needed. I felt so connected to her and it was so hard not to fix the situation for her. It was her first lesson in knowing that her mother can't fix everything or give her everything she needs. And it made me cry.
They had a hard time getting one of the springs out so her surgery took a little bit longer than expected.
This made the waiting room feel shakier than a turbulent flight.
I know now that things don't always work out well just because you will them to.
I know that just because someone is in God's hands, it doesn't mean that he leaves them here with us.
I know that only God decides who's he ready to call home.
My thoughts were full of these truths as we waited.
And that was new for me, I'm a positive person and don't let the uncertain fill my head.
But I did yesterday.
When they brought us back to the PACU I heard my baby wailing even before I could see her. I stepped ahead of the nurse and followed that horrible sound behind the curtain to find my sweet BabyGirl jump from a nurses arms into mine and nestle her head in my shoulder. She thrashed and wailed and moaned, at that point crying was an understatement, in my arms for quite a while as her nurse fumbled to push morphine into her IV.
Yet it was the best she's ever felt in my arms.
Even as her puffy sweaty self rolled medicinal ointment all over my shoulder and chest, and as she threw up all over herself and me, and cried sad little tears into my neck meeting my own tears that wouldn't stop coming down my face, it was the best I've ever been.
The saddest, yet the happiest.
She slept in her own crib last night.
All.Night.Long.
In fact, she woke up happy and Matthew and I played by her side all morning until she was ready for her morning nap.
Which is why this post is late, but I'm sure y'all understand.
PS-I have about a billion emails to catch up on, so don't worry that's on my agenda for this weekend!
