Today's post is long, it's also not so pretty. Full of hope? YES, Full of pretty? not so much.
So, if you're staying, maybe grab a cup of coffee, and I'll share a little about my heart, and my dear son Nicholas' heart - his hopes and fears. . .
Today is the 9th day I’ve been in hospital with
Nicholas; the 9th day straight, as in staying with him 24 hours a
day. You might ask what’s so special about that. Isn’t that sort of the
expected course of action when a child’s only 4? Which 4 year old child would
be expected to go to hospital alone, to face surgery without someone to hold
their hand?
Let me backtrack a little and help you to understand the
significance of this past week. A few
weeks ago I began mentioning to Nicholas that we would be going to hospital
together soon, and that we’d be staying there for a while. Nicholas’ one and
only question, asked with panic in his voice was, “Mommy you come with me,
Mommy stay”. This was all he asked, each and every time the topic was brought
up. No questions about needles, or doctors, or pain. . .just his fearful little
face looking up at me, and begging that he not be left alone.
You see, Nicholas has already had 13 big, proper surgeries
in his 4 years of life. Far more than I’ve had in my 30 years of life, and
likely many more than you have had in the course of your life. They were done
before he had a mommy to hold his hand, to stay with him. For most surgeries he
was in the hospital for between 2 and 6 weeks. Imagine spending that much time
as a 1, 2 and 3 year old, all on your own. No one there to comfort you when you
were scared, no one to hold you after the nurses couldn’t find a vein because
they were all blown out, and you were poked, 10, 20, 30 or more times while
they tried to place in IV. No one to check that pain meds were being given
often enough, to hold your hand and sing a lullaby when the pain couldn’t be
controlled and pain was rolling over you in waves.
I tried to be there. Every time he was admitted to hospital
I would try to visit him in the evening once my other children were in bed;
most often from 7-11 PM. I would hold him, and love him, and then the nurses
would say it was too late and I had to leave, and I’d walk out to the shrieks
and wails of Nicholas, while he tried hysterically to find some way out of his
crib. Every night the same story, every night my heart breaking, but what could
I do?
My dear boy in Dec 2010 - 4 month old
Fast-forward to the present, and you may understand a little
better why Nicholas was so worried about being left alone. The first day we
were here he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. I even gowned up and went into
the theatre with him and held his little hand while the gas slipped him into sleep.
I waited for surgery to pass and nearly 5 hours later he was brought from
recovery into the paediatric ward. When I first saw him, what I noticed was
that he was quite awake already (they said he would be nearly comatose from the
anaesthetic and meds), and that he looked so, so worried. I called his name,
and he turned his head, and it was as though all the tension drained away. The
worry left his eyes, and it was as though he released a long, held sigh. Once
he was settled in his room, I sat in a chair beside him, and held his hand.
Every so often he would ask, “Mommy you stay? Don’t go Mommy”. Each time I
assured him I would not leave, but a few minutes later he would ask the same
question again. I finally pointed to the fold down chair, and said “this is my
bed, I’m not going, see, this is your bed, and this is my bed”.
That night my chair-bed was set up about 10 feet away from
Nicholas’ bed, where he could see me. However, by this time he was in such pain
that the only way he wasn’t crying out in pain, was if I sat beside him and
held his hand. Finally at about 1 in the morning, one of the nurses said, “don’t
you want to crawl in beside him, and see if that works”. So I managed to squeeze
myself into his little toddler cot, it was so short I only fit from head to
knees, so I sort of wrapped my legs up and around Nicholas, all while trying
not to cause him more pain than he was already in. Amazingly this seemed to
settle him, and he dozed on and off for the rest of the night. When he woke up
crying all I had to do was tell him I was there, and he would settle immediately.
The next day I couldn’t leave the room for a cup of tea, or
the restroom, without him falling apart. He went hysterical if I left for even
a minute, afraid I would leave and not come back. Each time I did zip out I
assured him I would be straight back, and as soon as I was back I would tell
him over and over that I wasn’t leaving. I promised to stay. Over the course of
the day he repeatedly pointed to my chair-bed and asked if I was sleeping there
again, if I was staying. That night I rearranged my side of the room so that my
chair-bed was right beside Nicholas’ bed. I think he clung onto my hand for three
quarters of the night, and if he awoke and he wasn’t holding my hand he would
start to cry. A couple words from me though, and a firm grip on my hand, and he
would settle back to sleep. I was thrilled that I didn’t need to spend a second
night curled up toes, to nose in his little cot!
Fast-forward to now, 9 days in, and the change in Nicholas
is amazing. I can now run to the car for new books, or down to reception to buy
meal tickets, and he is totally and completely fine with it. I’ll tell him
where I’m going, and that I’ll be right back, and he’ll nod and say ok. When I
return a few minutes later he is still chilled, watching his movie, or playing
with his cars. No worry in his eyes, no fear in his little face, finally, finally,
he trusts that I won’t leave him, that I really will be back.
The one exception to this was the day before yesterday when
a well-meaning nurse pulled up the side of his crib while I was out. I arrived
back to hear him shrieking (could hear him from the other side of the ward),
and when I came into his room, he was trying to frantically climb over the side
of his crib. I realized that always in the past, every time the nurses said I
had to leave, I would pull up the side on my way out, and he must have thought
I had actually left him this time. It took a while to settle him down, and
assure him I hadn’t left him, that I had come straight back as promised. After
that he kept a close eye on me for the rest of the day. I explained to the
nurse why he had lost it, and they now know to leave his side down when I zip
out.
I have to admit, this past week hasn’t been easy on me. To
watch your child sobbing in pain, and to not be able to take the pain away; to
have people come to take blood from him at 4 in the morning, and watch him go
from peaceful sleep to traumatised child; to have his veins so thin that the IV
constantly bursts, filling his arm with painful fluid, only to spend the next
hour poking him full of holes trying to find that one vein which will hold. .
.There have been so, so many times this week when I wasn’t sure I was strong
enough to get through this - but then I would think of Nicholas going through
all this alone. To be in gut-wrenching pain, and have no one there to hold your
hand; to wake up in the middle of the night to needles and pain, and have no
one there to rock you back to sleep; to know that when someone visits you it’s
only a matter of time before they will leave, and you’ll be left completely
alone. . .these should not be the worries any child must face. And so, I
embrace the pain, and I thank God that my dear son no longer needs to go
through this on his own.
A few days after surgery
A week after surgery :)
But it makes me think of all the other children around the
world. Children who still don’t have that someone special to assure them they’re
not alone. And thinking of these children causes my heart to break, a little at
a time. You see, not so many days ago it was my Nicholas who worried about
being left, of being alone, but now he knows, he understands that he is loved
and cherished, and that nothing will take me away from his side. And so I pray
for all those dear little souls out there, going it alone. Full of pain, and
fear and loneliness, and I pray that one day their Mommas will find them. That
they too can learn they are loved, and cherished, and that no matter what, Mommy
is there to stay.
This is Adam - he is 3 years old and is waiting for his Family
This is Brenden - he is nearly 3 and is waiting for his family
This is Darren - he is 5 and is waiting for his family
This is Mindie - she is 9 years old and is waiting for her family
This is Susy - she is 5 years old and is waiting for her family
Until next time,
blessings from Africa
