Nyana’s surgery has been bumped to Thursday. I’m not certain of the real reason behind the delay—the nurse told me it was a scheduling mix-up and the doctor told me it was an emergency cardiac procedure—but reasons don’t really matter; I was mentally prepared for it to be today, Nyana’s Army rallied in the hugest way today, and Nyana was given an IV drip and starved for eight hours in anticipation of her procedure today. Don had booked Wednesday off from work and had to persuade a co-worker to give up the vacation day on Friday that she’d booked off more than a month ago.
So instead of recovering from surgery, Nyana and I spent the afternoon—and then Nyana and Don spent the evening—cuddling and playing the best two can while being cognizant of a miniature IV line in a miniature wrist. It’s been more than five months since she’s had an IV, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t even clue in that she’d need one for the surgery (duh!) until Don sent me a text last night with a photo of the pump and a caption: This guy’s back. I was just relieved to walk in this morning and find the IV line in her wrist and not in her scalp.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t frustrated about being bumped, but when she’s less than a week away from spending more time in the NICU than she did in utero, what’s another 48 hours? I’m not frustrated that today’s mix-up/emergency has added an extra two days to our stay; I’m frustrated that I have to relive all the emotions from this morning all over again. Anxiety and stress and worry and fear, all wrought with a sense of just hurry up and get this over with, already. I was looking at other commuters on the bus on my way up to the hospital, wondering what kind of days they were all headed off to. Surely none of them were off to face anything like I was about to face. I suppose, though, that this is what I signed up for when I set out to be a mum: finding that fine balance of holding it all together on the outside while inside you’re panicking your way through an irrational anxiety attack.
Don and I have the utmost appreciation for each and every one of you—everyone who took the time to post a comment here, or who wrote on our Facebook walls or sent us an email. Every one of you who stopped for a moment to think of our little Babygirl and our little family; all of you who said a prayer for us and added us to prayer chains and circles at your church. I spent nearly an hour this morning reading through well-wishes for Don and Nyana and me, and I’m so sorry that it was all for naught. Nyana’s Army sent more than enough love this morning to carry us through until we get her home, and beyond. I’m touched and flattered that my life and my family—so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things—can have such a profound impact on so many people, by doing nothing more than what any person would do in the same situation.
From the bottom of our hearts, thank you more than you know for being along for the ride with us. Love to every single one of you!