Christmas, news and homecomings, Oh my!

Christmas Day. My favorite Holiday, time to celebrate Jesus's birth and bake and eat and open gifts and see "holiday family" (the only time you see these family members are during the holidays) and be merry and grateful and sing carols and a million other things. Almost EVERYONE I know loves Christmas. What's not to love, such a joyful holiday, so much fun, so much love. But this year is different, the baby and I are still in the hospital. Things are looking up though, his breathing treatments are going well, the IV comes out and he's finally eating again. We might be able to go home today, just have to get the baby's oxygen levels to hold and we are as good as gone. BEST.CHRISTMAS.HOPE.EVER.  We might be going home!  YAY!

Considering I had never spent a holiday in the hospital I had no idea what to expect, so I expected nothing. My hubby and I talked and he was going to bring the older kids in later so we could all open gifts and spend some quiet, quality family time together, I was looking forward to it and thought this day might not be so sad after all. 

But something even more magical was in store for us this Christmas. Thanks to many AMAZING people in our community, we were bombarded with love and joy and hope on this day. The local fire department came and brought Santa and Mrs. Claus and gifts. One of the local John Deere Unions donated a wrapped gift to every child in pediatrics. Random volunteers, local businesses, local charities and churches all giving of their time and generosity, we were showered with gifts and cheer from complete strangers. It was a confirmation of what a beautiful community we live in and the kindred spirits and hearts of these great american people. I was BLOWN away.

Another little tidbit I did not consider is that kids being sick and in the hospital makes for a good news story. There were a group of reporters and cameras following around the Fire Department and The Claus's, visiting all the kids in their rooms, giving gifts and talking to the parents. 
Reporter: "Ma'am would you be okay with us filming Santa's visit with your son?" 
Me: "ummm, well what are you going to film?" (looking in the mirror at the hot mess that I had become since walking through those hospital doors days ago).
Reporter: "just his time with Santa, enjoying his gift and a few questions from you."
Me: "sorry but no, I don't mean to sound shallow but I am a mess and don't really want to be on camera."
Reporter: "oh don't worry, we won't film you, just ask you a few questions."
me: "uh ok, I guess that will be fine."

Remember when I said I was a softie? Maybe I should have said I'm a cry baby, emotional, hot mess of a mamma. I think that is a much better definition of who I had become since this whole debacle started. The reporter asked me one question, just one, and I was a slobbering, snotty, unshowered, uncoiffed (roots were SOO bad, I needed more than a touch up, I needed a wig), unfashionable, emotional wreck. 
"What makes this Christmas, being in the hospital with your baby, different from holidays celebrated in the past?" 
I poured my dang heart out, talking about my other kids at home, not being involved in the family time, how much I missed cooking and baking and wrapping gifts. How scared we were about what was happening with the baby, about how far he has come in just a few days, how I was just wanting to get things back to normal, and the whole time I'm BAWLING, like can't keep it together, trying to catch my breath, can't understand a damn word I'm saying, tears and snot everywhere, geez what a frickin dork, kind of bawling. 

I should have done a better job of keeping it together, I should have tried harder to be more technical and a LOT less emotional. I should have showered, I should have changed clothes, I should have at least threw on mascara or lip gloss or a hat or something. I should have been braver or stronger or anything else than what I was.  Then, I would have allowed the reporters to keep their word and keep this emotional breakdown off the air, but alas, I wasn't and i was gonna pay for my willy nilly weaknesses. I don't think those folks had any idea the "reporter GOLD" they would get from me. I didn't even think about it until after they left. It would take a miracle for that "display" to not make it on air, especially since three camera men (that were filming from the doorway)  and another reporter came shuffling into the room as soon as my waterworks started flowing. My family and friends still razz me sometimes about my blubbering, train wreck of ridiculousness and an entire list of fashion "Don'ts", but its all good cuz were close like that. I love my friends and family and dammit, we can all agree, if there was EVER a time I'm allowed to "lose it", that was it.  

I'm reliving it and dying from embarrassment all over again, I'll never forget it and I'll never agree to an interview while looking like THAT again. This might sound shallow to some but anyone who primps for things like a teacher conference or doctors or dentists appt or the zoo or anything simple, knows what I'm talking about. I'm not a psycho who can't leave the house without makeup or even someone who wears it often, but lets face it...there is a place and time for EVERYTHING and being on the local news, is definitely a "hair and make-up" moment.  Epic FAIL by me. But then again, I had no idea of how heart wrenching I could be. How was I to know I was so fabulous for news? Geez, just chalk up another "I know you can but I can do better" for me. I really wish these moments were a little more "proud' and lot less "dork". But, I'll take what I can get. I have never before and can't imagine ever again, having a day that was THAT emotional and overflowing with feelings of hope, happiness, sadness, doubt, embarrassment, joy, terror, vanity and self worth. It will be a hard one to top and honestly, I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll take it if it comes, I'm seasoned now.  

But on to more pressing news...the SOLE reason we are here, the miraculous and amazing result of the day, the babies oxygen levels were good, he was holding his own, doing great, cooperating, improving and by 4:00 on Christmas day 2011, he was released from the hospital and we were on our way home. Man oh man. 

Happy birthday and THANK YOU sweet baby jesus.

Pneumonia....

I went straight to the hospital, just like the doctor had told me to, I didn't stop, I took the fastest route I knew, with fewer stoplights but more stop signs, I ran every single one of them (I was hoping a cop would pull me over so I could get an escort to the hospital and not have to stop AT ALL).  I was scared. My mind was racing, continually verging toward "worse case scenario" thoughts.  Not good. But, I prayed for my baby, out loud, so the he could hear me, almost as if I said the words out loud and he heard them and subconsciously "said" the words in his head, then he was praying too. "God hear my prayer, help me, help my body, heal me, save me, watch over me, I have you in my heart, I need you're grace, hear my prayer, heal me, heal me, help me". 

I parked, grabbed the baby, wrapped him in his blanket and headed up to pediatrics. I could take direction and what I was told was, "don't stop". I walked right past the admission desk, the attendant asked me if she could help me, "Going to pediatrics, Dr. already called in, they're expecting us" was all I said as I zipped past her with the baby in my arms, she started to say something like "you need to check in" but I ignored her and was already to the elevator by the time she finished her sentence.

And just as the doctor promised they were ready for us, took us straight to the room, changed him into a gown, took vitals and immediately put him on oxygen. I took a deep breath, I had finally made it to my destination, I did exactly as I was told and now that we were here and he was "safe" I was finally allowed to stop. Thank God, I was so relieved, I felt like I executed my mission, I felt kinda proud of myself, I allowed myself a slight pat on the back "Good job momma, you got him here in record time, you did good". 

It took a little while but his pediatrician finally got there, he came into the room and after all seemed ok with the baby and he was sleeping peacefully, I asked what was going on? "He has pneumonia, his oxygen levels were dangerously low, he is very sick". Yep, that "small bit of pneumonia in his left lung" that was mentioned in the ER just days earlier, was the ravaging beast that was troubling him now...How is this possible? Why did they let him go home on Sunday? How could it go from a small concern to such a monstrous illness? Apparently, pneumonia can do that, be a small concern but turn into a really BIG concern. That was the answer I got and really, it didn't make any sense to "harp" on the subject. To me it didn't really matter, there was nothing I could do about the past, he was here now and getting amazing treatment. But I will tell you that when you let the doctors and nurses and anyone else who is willing to listen, just how disappointed you are in the way you were treated just days earlier, they go OUT OF THEIR WAY to make it up to you. They were great. I almost felt as if I was in a hotel with room service.

We would be in the hospital for 5 days and 4 nights, being released on Christmas day at 4pm. My Hubby and family had to take care of the older two kids and cart them back and forth so they could see us, go to school and enjoy the holiday break. I do not know what I would have done without this support from our families. Being in the hospital several days and nights with only one of your kids is hard enough, but doing it over Christmas...it was a sad time indeed. I only left the hospital on one occasion, Christmas Eve, my daughter's christmas performance at the church. I wasn't even sure I was going to go (to nervous to leave the baby, he was still on oxygen full time, we couldn't get his levels up and he whined and cried every time I left his side) so I wasn't showered or coiffed or decent. But, Hubby convinced me he could handle the baby for an hour or so. Plus, I had a nice long, wool, winter trench coat that I could throw over my "mess", so thats exactly what I did, and headed out the door. 

I watched her whole performance, it was beautiful and I cried, cried, cried. I had kept such a "fake" optimism while I was at the hospital (for the baby and family) but I was at a breaking point and the church was dark and the singing was loud. I let it all out and felt SO MUCH better after. I'm a real softie and I'm horrible at keeping it all in for too long. Plus, all my wonderful friends offering help and support, asking about the baby and "how are YOU doing" was more than my fragile heart could bear. I felt the love and that made the tears flow even heavier, what a loving world I live in. But, the worst part, the part that really got to me the most, the part that about killed me... I had missed out on so much of the "preparation" for my little girls big night, I wasn't there for the primping and pampering. She is such a girly girl, that's her favorite "part" of any performance, the prepping, but their was nothing "frilly" about her that night.  Men don't do that (her daddy did a great job with everything else but fancy schmancy is out of his league). It was an absolute miracle that she had on a matching outfit and adorable red velvet ballet flats. But nothing fancy and I could tell she missed me. As soon as the performance was over, I hugged her, told her how proud I was, took a few pictures, said a word or two to a few friends and left to go back to my little sickie. 

They (nurses, hubby and baby) were all very happy to see me when I got back. As predicted, he cried and whined almost the whole time I was gone, Hubby and the nurses tried to calm him but nothing worked for long. He finally settled down, and fell asleep in my arms, hubby and everyone else left. I was alone with my baby, I started to wonder what the day would be like tomorrow with us not there. I missed the "outside" world. Then I came to my senses, what a wimp I am that I feel like things are so awful for us right now, how selfish of me to think of myself and feel sorry. I mean, think of people that had it worse, that HAVE it worse, whose babies are REALLY REALLY sick, like terminally sick, how DARE I even mutter a complaint. There are some families that have to spend weeks and months away from their families, they miss out on everything, not just one holiday. This wasn't SO bad, it could be MUCH worse. Snap out of it girl, tomorrow is Christmas, you're FAVORITE holiday. Everything will be fine, just fine, stop stressing out, stop worrying about things you can't change...

I need to Thank God for his grace and mercy. I prayed, a really long, heartfelt, woman to higher being, thank you Lord baby Jesus type of prayer and fell into a deep, much needed, almost as if I was at home in my own bed, type of sleep....

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow, you're only a day away"...