The first 24 hours....

I picked up your baby book tonight and thumbed through it. For the most part it is empty. Page after blank page reminds me of all the things you never got to do. When I last wrote about your life, I left off where I was waiting on medi-flight to come and get you. It didn't take them long to arrive. Children's to Baptist isn't much of a drive. They sent me back to my room as they prepared you for transport. They promised to bring you down and they made good on their word. They brought you down in your isolet. Carissa hadn't been able to see you other than that brief moment in the nursery window right after birth. This was her chance to really see you.

She, of course, wanted you out of that plastic box. She had been waiting on you for 9 long months and she was ready to play! But they had to go. They needed to get you to Children's and get you settled and prepped for surgery. Your dad went, your papa went, and your aunt nini went. I was stuck at Baptist because I had just had a c-section less than 24 hours ago. Granny stayed with me. If I had to guess I would say she probably thought there was a good chance that I might fall apart if left alone. I still had yet to even get to hold you. My arms were empty and my heart was heavy. I tried not to think about what you were about to encounter. Open heart surgery? On a brand new infant? I was so lost and so confused.They told me that they had never had a case like yours before. They needed to do a video conference with other top doctors from across the nation to determine what would be the best plan for you. If I had known then what I know now, I would have asked better questions. I would have demanded a transport to Boston. I wouldn't have been so naive and trusting. I didn't know every hospital wasn't equal. I didn't realize the importance of having the right doctor. I busied myself by starting to pack up and demand my own release. My doctor was basically like heck no you crazy lady! You just had surgery! But I was persistent. He and I made a deal, I spend the night in the hospital and he would release me first thing in the morning if I promised to take care of myself and take it easy. Sure doc.....whatever you ssay. I told him that if he wasn't there to release me then I was walking out. I didn't care. He stayed true to his word and was there bright and early to release me. Granny rushed me over to the PICU at Children's where my baby lay waiting to be taken into the OR. I had never seen so many tubes and wires on such a tiny human. I cried. The nurse told me that you would be going back any time now and Granny told her that I hadn't even gotten to hold you yet. The wonderful nurses came in there and gathered all the tubes and wires and gently placed you in my arms.

It was one of the most precious moments of my life. You had brown hair. Not much, it was more like brown fuzz. You would be my only dark headed daughter. You have beautiful dark blue-gray eyes, although you do not open them. I didn't get to hold you long because your team of doctors came to take you away. They escort us to a personal waiting room to wait. I know why they gave us our own waiting room. There is a chance you might not make it through and they want us separate from the normal people in case that happens. They prepare us for the 6 hour wait we are about to encounter. They promise to call out with updates at least once per hour. I don't even know what I am feeling at this moment. I think shock is carrying me through. But dread is filling my soul. Please Lord don't let that short 5 minutes that I had with her be all that I get. The surgery begins. And so we wait........

Mother's Day and More

This sucks. Mother's day sucks. I don't know why, it just does. It's not that I am not grateful for my living children because I am. I really honestly, truly, pinky swear that I am. I love them more than life. It is just that a piece of me is missing. And it will always be missing. You should be 11. You should be in the 5th grade. When I pour hours into volunteering at the school, I should catch a glimpse of your face every now and then in the hall as the 5th graders shuffle past. But I don't. And I never will. And people will always look at me and wonder why I am not "over it" yet. Why I still feel the sting. There are very few people that really understand. There are very few times when I will willingly admit that I put off the grief process for many years. I went over it, under it, around it, but never through it. Because, let's be honest, that wasn't any fun. In fact, it down right sucked. Like worse than this (or any other) holiday. I don't know where I am at on this journey. I'm lost. This whole feeling it thing is.....is......I don't know. There was a reason I didn't allow myself to "feel" any of it for so long. Maybe I'm not as strong as I want to think I am. Maybe I am just as lost as the next person.....