After Tyce spending maybe 6-8 hours in his hospital bed, sleeping (sometimes peacefully, sometimes fretfully), Nick and I were able to grab a few hours, though we are certainly far from rested. We have not yet been able to get a hospital room upstairs, so we are sleeping on these blue pleather recliners that require constant muscle attention to stay reclined. If you curl up on your side, it’s a little better, but Nick has struggled to get comfortable. Tyce just settled from a good “I’m over this” cry, so in calming him, we were lifted from that weird sleep…zone?…fog?… Nick is holding Tyce and his breathing just changed, so he’s probably sleeping again, which I am relieved.
The photo above is the view out our window right now. Sometimes I see medical people, clutching their coffees and bent against the brutally cold wind, coming and going. Gosh I love these people–what extraordinary, important work they do.
He has been hooked to wires since surgery now and I hate them. I wonder about parents who spend much longer amounts of time gingerly positioning each encounter. Careful, is it tugging on his IV? Did the pulse/ox come off his foot again? They have his little arm in a sort of split to keep everything in place–which he hates. I fight this odd reflex to rip all this paraphernalia from him so we can have a proper cuddle. And then you catch this sneaky little thought creeping into your mind, that these wires are what sustains his life and comfort. You let them gain mastery over you, even fearing that one kink might set off an emergency situation.
I rebelled properly against that mindset a few minutes ago. And while I have no intention on removing these beautiful aids from Tyce until he and the doctors feel comfortable, I again turned my heart aright to its True Source. Our loving Healer–Tyce’s Perfect Designer–and quite simply–Daddy–IS WHO HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN. Nick just snored–PTL. Erin Brookens reminded me that He’s not only the maker of Tyce, but also the maker of the doctors, the source of their skill.
So the wires. I feel like I’m not being very coherent this morning–sorry about that. I hate them, I temporarily accept them, and I put them in their proper place–aids used of the skilled providers who were sent by the Lord to care for this boy.
In other news, they have these ginormous cookies in the Rotunda that set my heart a-flutter. You know, small victories…
A few photos I didn’t get a chance to post yesterday:
Steph came to see us this morning. That was nice, as she is very comfortable in medical environments and doesn’t feel the awkward need to fill the empty quiet. She handled Tyce very confidently amidst his wires and snuggled him happily for some time. She was a bright spot in our morning.
Just a few moments ago, and in maybe the best development so far, we finally were moved out of the surgical recovery area to a room in Pediatric Acute Care on the 3rd floor. We have so much more room to move around, our own bathroom and are finally able to shower. They needed to find us a room by the end of the day because the surgical floor closes on the weekends; we are sitting here feeling like we moved into the medical Marriott. Thank you, Father. We don’t know how long we’ll still be here, and this room makes the prospect much easier to embrace.
And if you’re counting dirty diapers (I am), we have reached 5.
Y’all, I’m feeding my son.
Hallelujah–we thought we might have to wait til tomorrow and I’ve been dreading that for Tyce’s sake.
Now is the real test: is his body ready?
We believe it is.
On this picture you can see the splint-type brace they have under his arm to stabilize his IV. We’re so ready to have that removed. The doctor said after 3 successful feedings, his IV can be removed.