Okay, so the mom club no one wants to join...well, there's a few of them. The one I just joined?
The Club of Moms Whose Children Basically Live in the Hospital.
Now, there are separate sections to this club. The particular section I just joined, we'll call "The Depressed Non-cooperative Patient Child Chapter of MWCBLH."
Kai pulled through surgery beautifully. His surgeon and anesthesiologist and nurses and all the other staff present in that OR yesterday were wonderful. He was given a teddy bear, allowed to take it and his beloved Tow Mater pillow in with him, I went back with him, he was given a sedative before they started his IV, then he got his IV, his Factor VIII and Humate P, his strawberry scented anesthesia...had a panic attack over the mask being on his face, and then I went to the waiting room to begin the...well...waiting game. When the surgeon came out to tell me he was fine and it was all over, my mom had to hold me up. Then I waited another agonizing hour to go hold my little boy.
I'm not sure what was more horrifying-witnessing his panic attack and choking on air during anesthesia, or the screaming wreck of my precious baby I found when they brought me back to the recovery room.
He wouldn't talk. He wouldn't look at me. He simply launched himself at me as best he could with his little legs all covered in bright yellow casts and screamed his head off. I couldn't put him down. Nothing we did made him feel better. It took hours to calm him back to himself again.
And then I thought he'd be okay.
And then five o'clock this morning rolled around.
I was sound asleep on the couch in his room when I was woken by the nurse telling me he'd had an accident in his sleep. I lay there for a bit until she moved him...and the screaming started again. Meltdown, classic autism mode again. Vitals showed a fever, and he wouldn't eat or drink anything. All the progress he'd made...gone. It's nearly one in the afternoon and I've gotten him to eat a single banana and take four ounces of juice. He still won't look at me. He's despondent. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to be touched but he won't let me put him down. He doesn't want to be outside, his favorite place ever. He had no interest in the fish aquarium on the bottom floor. He doesn't want to play.
This is not my baby.
I want my baby back.
The Club of Moms Whose Children Basically Live in the Hospital.
Now, there are separate sections to this club. The particular section I just joined, we'll call "The Depressed Non-cooperative Patient Child Chapter of MWCBLH."
Kai pulled through surgery beautifully. His surgeon and anesthesiologist and nurses and all the other staff present in that OR yesterday were wonderful. He was given a teddy bear, allowed to take it and his beloved Tow Mater pillow in with him, I went back with him, he was given a sedative before they started his IV, then he got his IV, his Factor VIII and Humate P, his strawberry scented anesthesia...had a panic attack over the mask being on his face, and then I went to the waiting room to begin the...well...waiting game. When the surgeon came out to tell me he was fine and it was all over, my mom had to hold me up. Then I waited another agonizing hour to go hold my little boy.
I'm not sure what was more horrifying-witnessing his panic attack and choking on air during anesthesia, or the screaming wreck of my precious baby I found when they brought me back to the recovery room.
He wouldn't talk. He wouldn't look at me. He simply launched himself at me as best he could with his little legs all covered in bright yellow casts and screamed his head off. I couldn't put him down. Nothing we did made him feel better. It took hours to calm him back to himself again.
And then I thought he'd be okay.
And then five o'clock this morning rolled around.
I was sound asleep on the couch in his room when I was woken by the nurse telling me he'd had an accident in his sleep. I lay there for a bit until she moved him...and the screaming started again. Meltdown, classic autism mode again. Vitals showed a fever, and he wouldn't eat or drink anything. All the progress he'd made...gone. It's nearly one in the afternoon and I've gotten him to eat a single banana and take four ounces of juice. He still won't look at me. He's despondent. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to be touched but he won't let me put him down. He doesn't want to be outside, his favorite place ever. He had no interest in the fish aquarium on the bottom floor. He doesn't want to play.
This is not my baby.
I want my baby back.
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