Reliving the Hospital

I am a little wary to post this. It was actually an exercise that I worked on at the suggestion of my counselor a long time ago. I was trying to write my hospital experience from my own point of view. Basically I was purging my hold on the experiences I had there. It is still hard for me to read and relive. It's been a long time, almost 9 years, and I still feel like this is so vivid. While I say that, I want to say that some of what is "said" in this may not be accurate, even though I remember the sights and smells I dont remember the words as well. For the most part I was in a drug and emotion induced fog.

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There he is… my beautiful big baby boy. I see him, I wish I could reach out and hold him… but my arms are strapped down.

“He’s so… pretty…”

Was that me? Did I say that? Why is it going black?… wait… baby…

………………

Where am I? Oh, hospital… clean white ceiling… who is talking? Oh, Janice… thank goodness for Janice, my friend, my midwife… Oh no! I’m going to…

“It’s ok, I have a bowl here, just aim for the bowl Carolyn… that’s right, I know it’s hard, you just hang in there. They are almost done stitching you up. That was a big boy you had, ten pounds eleven and a half ounces. You were amazing honey, you just hang in there until I can get you into recovery ok?”

Just nod… don’t think about the baby… mind blank… stomach empty… don’t think… don’t think about what you just did, not about the surgery, not about the baby… stop thinking… I love him so much… cant feel my legs… cant feel my baby… my Dawson

Unstrapped now… moving down a hallway, nurse asking me something… what did she say?

“Can I change your gown?”

Gown?... Oh, yea, I threw up on it… how did I throw up on it? I haven’t eaten in so long… Just help her get you changed, and then you can rest… rest and forget… forget about him… Please, God just let me forget… Please…

…………………………

1 hour later

“Would you like us to bring the baby in?”

Baby… my baby… little man, I love him so much… hurt so much… I don’t know… want to hold him… want to… no, just tell them no

“Ok honey, you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to”

Just nod, go back to sleep… forget… please forget…

“Ok, we are going to move you into your regular room now Carolyn. You just let us know if you get uncomfortable.”

Moving again… more hallways… doorway… stomach pain… not so bad, not compared to the other… trying not to think about the pain. Just forget, just don’t think about it. Give it some time and you will just forget. Why doesn’t it get any better?

Who is that? Dad? Daddy, I hurt so bad… Don’t ask that dad, no I don’t want to see him… no, I can’t, cant do this… cant feel this… cant see him... hate crying…hate this.

“You need to see that baby now”

So they bring him, tiny bassinet, not so tiny baby. Cant hold him up, but he lays on me. Sleeping little man… Love him…

Numbness: body numb from drugs, mind numb from exhaustion, heart numb from pain. So numb I forget, forget for a little while that he isn’t mine… for now he is… my little man…

Hold him… Snuggle, cuddle, love him

Cant laugh, but wont cry, not now, not yet… but soon…

3 days, he is mine for just this 72 hours.

I remember every moment of those three days. The feedings, sleeping close and holding that little angel, looking over every inch of him. Nurses and friends drifted in and out, many of them I cant really recall. For me there was tunnel vision. There was just that tiny being who had so recently been part of me, and who would too soon be gone to bless someone else with his presence. The background has faded, but the memory is still as clear as crystal. Tiny fingers, toes, arms, legs, belly, face. This was my time to revel in the amazing creation that was passing from my hands. Then came the last day…

Holding, crying, loving, sobbing. Eyes drinking in the sight, tiny flat nose, wide eyes, hands curled into fists, toes spread. Hands smoothing, holding, wiping tears. Lips kissing, arms hugging, chest heaving, legs wobbling. Heart breaking…

Wheeling the cart down the hallway. Tiny bassinet, not so tiny baby. Will this be my last moments with you? Will you ever know me? Will I hear your voice or see your face? Will she sing to you when you go to sleep? Will she love you like I do? Will they care that this is breaking me? So much pain, can I really do this?

Tiny room, chairs, talking, smiles, tears, envy… I hold you, kiss you, place you in new arms…

The world goes dark…


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I still regret that I didnt ask to see Dawson right away after I woke up and was moved to recovery. Before anyone asks, I want to say that YES he was that big (the weight is accurate). My time in the hospital is not something I talk about often. It still feels raw, and I still feel like it should be a personal time between me and my family (so please be nice). I am so grateful that my dad understood me well enough to know I needed to see Dawson. I am so happy I had those 3 days.