Yesterday, we got to Primary Children's Hospital. I thought I was ready for it this time. Our nurses at McKay Dee warned me that it would be busy and noisy. They warned me that I might have to fight to get answers or things that I needed. They warned me that now more than ever I would have to be Kimber's voice. That there would be babies MUCH sicker than Kimber and so it might be easy for us to slip through the cracks.
When mom and I got here, it was noisy, but that was ok. It was busy, but I knew it would be. The Ronald McDonald House was full but we could figure something out. I was doing fine until I asked if I could just hold Kimber. She was stressed out from the transfer and her stats were all over the place. I know that she does better when being held. My nurse reluctantly agreed but informed me that first I would need to put on a gown (no biggie) and latex gloves. I LOST it. Everything else I had been warned about, I could deal with, but now they were going to take something away that was SO incredibly personal to me! The comfort of touching my little girl. The ability to let her know that I was here. How. Dare. They.
I wrote a quick note to one of my very good friends who has been an incredible example to me her whole life but who has also been willing to walk with me through this experience as it was not too long ago that she was on the ride with her little girl. I quote myself when I write: "I know everybody loves Primary Children's but I'm not going to lie... I hate it." To which she very appropriately replied "The good news is you don't have to love it. Just survive it!"
Each time we move hospitals it is such a roller coaster. Not only are there new rules, a new hospital and a new staff, but everyone feels the need to constantly remind me how abnormal Kimber is. I am well aware of this fact. If Kimber was a normal baby we wouldn't be here. However, I also strongly believe after the miracles I have seen this past month, that if Kimber was a normal baby SHE wouldn't be here.
The challenge through this is to keep keep our feet in reality, our eyes on the worst case scenario and then hang on to hope like nobody's business! Shawn and I are aware that there are possible outcomes to this whole situation that we'd really rather not even have to think about. We are aware that Kimber's life could be very different from what we have imagined for the last nine months. However, we choose not to focus on these. Instead we just keep a casual eye on them just often enough to know where they are at and what they look like. We cling to the hope that our little girl is improving. That this might in fact be something we can help her grow out of. We cling to our belief in miracles and our knowledge that we have a loving Heavenly Father who knows what is best for all of us. That's how we are able to get up every morning with a smile and how we joke and laugh amidst the frantic hospital environment, possible diagnosis and tests. That's how we see each day with our little girl as a HUGE blessing instead of a trial.
Changing hospitals is always so hard because the new nurses don't understand. They haven't seen the miracles. They don't understand the logic of hanging on to hope instead of "facts". I feel like sometimes they try to strip me of this by constantly reminding me she is "not a normal newborn". Sometimes I just feel like firing back, "You're darn right she's not!"
As we head down this last leg of our journey we ask for your continued prayers. We ask for strength for Kimber to keep fighting and improving and we ask for peace, understanding, and patience for her parents, especially her mother to be able to survive this place.
Love you all!
PS I should add that after a good nights sleep I am feeling MUCH better. I was able to talk to the nurse and explain the importance of the sensation of touch and was able to strike a deal with her if I wash my hands EVERY time I come out of Kimber's isolette then she won't make me wear the gloves. I feel MUCH better today and as we have met people who have traveled from countries away just to be here I am grateful for this resource that we have so close.
Wow Alyssa, I feel like I can relate to your feelings so well at the moment. My husband and I were expecting our little boy the same day as you two. We found out things would not be normal when I was three months pregnant. Our baby was okay, but I suffered from some major life changing and serious medical conditions. I am on a roller coaster of my own and know what it feels like to be riding so high one day, and then in the painful depths the next. I know that as we focus on the tender mercies and miracles, we will make it through, and be that much better of a person after the trial by fire. We are proud of you for keeping that faith and remembering the positive. We are continuing to pray for your little family. Good luck this week!
ReplyDeleteAlyssa, we love you and are praying always! Hang in there!
ReplyDeleteI think one of the things that Primary's taught me was that the best gift I could give my little girl was the fierce love of a mother and a father- for her and for each other. I saw so many "broken" families while we were there, and so many babies that were going "home" to homes that wouldn't be a place of peace for them, let alone places that would help them grow into healthy children. You just hold on to that little girl as tight as you can and give her all the love you have and remember to count your blessings and hers, just like you have been doing! You'll survive no problem! Every day will get better, and I'll bet at some point they won't even make you wear a gown...save those gloves and we'll shred them when this is all over!
ReplyDelete