I was talking to a friend this week who was telling me about her dramatic weekend. She and her boyfriend had been planning a big shopping weekend down to the States with another couple when the other couple got into a big, Friday night, yelling-on-the-street-outside-the-club argument and the whole weekend got derailed. Instead of shopping all weekend, they just ended up at the spa.
Man, I’d kill for that kind of drama again. Not that I’ve ever been much of a spa guy, but still it reminded me of a time when things were much simpler, when we didn’t know all of the medical terminology that we do now. Back when making a baby seemed so easy. Tonight I’m writing this cribside on the eve of her surgery – again. She’s been a bit fussy and uncomfortable, but for right now she’s asleep, hopefully dreaming of the long and winding cavalcade of celebration that is the Sunshine Brigade.
I sat here two nights ago on Monday, thinking the same things. It’s the last night before the surgery, the last night before we take the first steps of the next pathway through Nyanaland. Right now she has a clean, smooth chubby belly, tomorrow there will be a piece of plastic there. It will likely be there for the next year and in all honesty, tonight could be the last night I see her tummy without a little dime-sized scar there. I know it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but I get sentimental. It’s a big night…again.
What if I pull it out? This is really just a plastic stopper with a tube sticking out, and it could easily get caught on something when I go to lift her up or something – I’m klutzy, I do things like that. I pulled her NG tube out at least twice by total accident and one that was possibly on purpose but you didn’t hear that from me. I’m told that if it does “pop out” (because I know you’re all wondering…) we just “pop it back in”. Seriously, that’s what I got from Karen when I asked her. She said most people (daycare, babysitters, even family) might have a hard time with the concept but we would get it and if it happened, we could just “pop it back in”. Weird thing was that I totally got it and understood what she meant. Going back to the beginning of this post, I remember a time when I would have been far, far away from even just this conversation. My, how far you can come when you just blink and let 6 months slip by.
It’s later now, and I’m at home. Little Princess Fussbucket woke up with her evening tummyache right when I was leaving, which not only happened last G-Tube Eve, but all last week as well. It’s kind of terrible timing, because it hits right as it’s time to go catch the bus and it’s always terrible to leave her on a bad note. I always feel like such a let-down, taking off right when she gets cranky, but what can you do? It just reinforces the need to get her home so we can stop having to leave her somewhere else every night. I can’t wait.
So the end of our NICU road starts tomorrow, probably. Most likely, I’m sure. I doubt they would bump us again. Probably not. I hope. The surgery is at 9:30 AM and will be over by the time most of you read this. We’ll keep you posted, and thanks again. Thanks for the thoughts, the prayers, the energy, the laughs, the love, the tears, and the chuckly smiles. It’s you guys who keep us real, and we’re very grateful. Here’s a little sunshine to say thanks.