The rest of the story

The other day my friend Lexi had a post on her blog that I thought was kind of interesting. She talked about how we sometimes edit our accounts of our lives when we are talking to others or blogging. It was something that I really haven't given much thought. I am one of those people that when asked how I'm doing, I almost always say good even if I'm not. I think I do this because a) sometimes its easier, less time consuming, b) I don't want to burden others with my problems, c) I'm prideful, and d) I don't want people to view me as a "Debbie Downer."




After reading Lexi's post I thought that it might be interesting to have a post that was the good, the bad, and the ugly. So, I'm gonna revisit the hospital post, but this time you get the rest of the story :)

At 4:00 a.m., after a night of up every hour or two with a baby that was coughing and wheezing, Kailey finally with sad eyes said, "I can't do it anymore." I was already having a hard time looking calm and supportive to help her calm down, and this almost did me in. At that point Joel and I agreed that it was time to bring her in to the e.r. Scratch that, Joel decided it was time, I'm a nervous wreck in situations like this and rely on Joel to make important decisions. Kailey and I got in the van and took off for the e.r. When we got there, we were eventually taken back to a room and the doctor explained that she would need breathing treatments and a steroid shot. The last time that we were there a month earlier, she had to have an i.v. for fluids and she did great. She didn't even fight when they put in the i.v. I thought "good, no i.v.; this should be easy, and we'll be out of her before lunch time." Boy was I wrong. When the respiratory therapist came in with the breathing treatment Kailey was terrified. After trying for a long time to reason with her and calm her down, the therapist had to call in another nurse to help hold her down. The therapist and the nurse held her and made her take the breathing treatment. Watching them hold her with terror in her eyes as she kicked and fought tore my heart apart. That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to watch, and over a breathing treatment, too. After all of this the doctor informed us that it didn't help enough and we would have to be admitted. So a while later Kailey and I went up to her room. I had only been communicating with Joel through text, so communication wasn't perfect, but I knew that he was coming as soon as he could get Eli ready, and that was good news. Shortly after we made it to the room, Joel and Eli arrived. When he walked in, Joel was on the phone with his sister Wendy. She was already in the parking lot waiting for someone to bring Eli down so that she could take him home with her for the day. This is where I started to fall apart. A culmination of no sleep, stress, viewing the torture of my child, pregnancy hormones, and not enough food took me down. Joel suggested that I walk Eli down to Wendy so that I could spend a little time with him. I didn't want to bring him to Wendy, because I just wanted to have him there with us, but I knew that it was for the best. I certainly didn't want to spend all day keeping Eli away from the nurse call button, grossness of the hospital room, bed controls, Kailey's play doh (messy but a comfort for her), and various other hospital equipment. So I picked him up and headed for the parking lot. As I got to the elevators I started thinking about him crying as I passed him off to Wendy, and that was all it took. I started crying and couldn't stop. I cried all of the way down to the first floor and barely made it too a bench. I sat down and Eli hugged me, and I cried for a while. Then I finally decided that I had to just call Wendy and let her know that I couldn't handle giving him up. So Eli and I went back upstairs to enjoy one another's company, and struggle through the day trying to stay out of the equipment and germs.



While I'm on a Debbie Downer kick, I do have gestational diabetes (had to go in on my birthday to learn how to use my glucometer and deprive myself of precious carbohydrates and fats), and we have chinese drywall wamp waaaa.