I am not a saint in the hospital.

This is the third time Theo has been admitted to the hospital - he is only three months old. This time he was scheduled for a broncoscopy, ear exam, and echocardiogram. We were supposed to leave after a few hours, but he is not recovering from the sedation well and needs oxygen. Hence day 2 in room 28 on the 10th floor of NCH. The beeping is insesant. The nurses are passive. The crib sheets are scratchy and have blood stains from Theo's blood labs (change them already!). Theo has a hospital gown that could fit three of him inside it. I don't even know what questions to ask at this point. I am frustrated. I. Am. Done.

I am done with the nurses coming in to check on the destats and say to Theo, "What are you doing bud?!" ... my thoughts are My perfect baby is breathing the best he can. He isn't doing anything wrong. Then they stare at him,  stare at the machine, pause the alarm,  then leave... only to have it go off again in 1 minute. Then they say,  "What are you doing bud?!" ... This happens again and again...after only so long can I not be sarcastic with them... Then silent... Then angry.

I am not an angry person. I hate how I feel at the hospital. I hate feeling intense jealousy for the families walking by to be discharged to go home. I hate the nurses that are passive and won't call the doctors when I ask them too. I hate not knowing how long we have to stay. I hate that my baby can't be home. I. Want. To. Go. Home.  I want to hold Theo on my chest without 5 cords hanging off him. I want him to have his play gym. I want to see him smile.

I am not the Abby you know. I am a blood-shot-eyed, same-clothes-as-yesterday, only-bad-thoughts Abby. I have pent up anger for the constant change and living one day at a time.  Survival,  I live for survival. I hate that not only my husband STILL has untreatable health issues,  but my baby undoubtedly has a lifetime with the hospital as his second home. I am stuck in the middle. A caregiver for two, when sometimes I can only give to one, when I really should be taking care of myself.

Why tell you all of this?  Because many of you all ask how I am doing, and many times I don't know what to say. I felt ready to tell you what it is like sometimes... what it is like right now. Life is hard and I am not perfect. I am a loving wife to a chronically ill husband and a loving mom to a perfect boy with special needs. I try hard. But sometimes trying hard means burning out. Sometimes being a "mama bear" is really more like a "bear." And that is me right now. 

Comments

  1. janet rowleyApril 13, 2017 at 9:04 AM

    How beautifully written and how beautifully authentic you are! Thank you, sweet Abby, for sharing your very real mortal response to these obstacles that you scale every day. You amaze me with your passion for your boys--how blessed they are to call you their wife and mother!

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