Still Hospitalized



4 months, 1 month adjusted. We’ve hit two weeks in the hospital with a common cold and we’ve only just removed his breathing tube. Now we wait another 1-2 weeks as they slowly wean Marco from CPAP oxygen to high flow to regular to none. 



I should be used to this by now, but somehow these past two weeks feel longer than the previous 15 he’s spent in a hospital bed. He’s been alive for 19 weeks, he’s been home only 2 of those, and due to my split life visiting my eldest all summer, I’ve only been with him for 5 days. 5 freaking days.

 “He’s where he needs to be”, “he’ll be stronger soon”, “he knows you’re there and feels your love”, “he’s got the best care possible”, “this too shall pass,” yada yada yada. These well meaning words of comfort have stopped working to give me peace. No words can give me back the first 4-5 months of his life. The first smile, giggle, roll that should have been. The joy of bonding with my last baby during maternity leave. I’ll be lucky if I get a few weeks with him before I return to work and leave his care to a stranger. I know I’ll have his whole life to bond with him, but for now I’m finding it hard not to wallow a bit in my resentment. Finding it hard to see my friends’ perfect babies and all the happy, complete families on social media. 

I also recognize that I have tremendous privilege and am fortunate that my problems are relatively minor when compared to the horrors going on in the world… but my pain is no less real as I try to hold onto the happy moments in my day.

As my son’s new principal told us: you can be mad at the wave, but it’s easier to learn to surf. Well, damn if it’s a hard sport to master, and I find myself being tossed around by the waves more often than not these days. Thankfully, I’m determined to learn and I know we’ll pull through.

[Written while receiving a bear hug from my snuggle bug middle child]


My MIL visiting Marco when I was unable to. It takes a village, and I’ve got an amazing one.




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