Saturday, August 23, 2008

Whining ... and reality check

My inner brat is whining. I will tell her to hush in a minute, but first I will let her have her voice, because I really want this blog to be honest, and that includes petulant behavior on my part.

Waah!

It's only the second day of our 6 day stint! And we have the same nurse as last night, the one who would just leave the door open, the bright light spilling in, in the middle of the night! And my husband and my sister-in-law are at home, getting my kids ready for their first day of school, which I'm going to miss. No meeting the teachers. No packing the lunches. No greeting them in the afternoon with a special snack, to sit at the kitchen table and hear who is in their classes and what they think of their teachers.

Before I come to the hospital, I think, "Really, it's not so bad. It's comfortable. And they have wifi. And it gives me time to focus on this delightful kid who I really like. No housework! No laundry! Just eat, sleep, and play!"

And I get here, and it's not so bad, it's just that I'm so darn homesick. And the world is moving on without me. I've been placed in a timeout box and the rest of the world, oblivious, fusses with the little stresses of normal life that, removed from it all, are so wonderful.

Whine.

But there, already, I am faking my whining. Because crowding in, whether I'm ready or not, come my thoughts that are with another tonight. Another mom, who is watching her child fade ...

Miles away, those of us in the same club, but who hope to never compete for this mettle of courage, weep with her. And pray. And desperately hope against hope for a miracle.

I dry my eyes. I want neither the nurses nor Little Warrior to see them.

I look around our room. LW is pulling the clothes off a cheap dolly I just gave her ("She doesn't have hair ... she gets keeemo, too," she informs me) and watching "The Bear Movie" (Jungle Book) and looking not at all sleepy. The darkness outside and the slightly-more-quiet-ness of the floor lends a cozy feel to our room. LW chatters to me about the doll and sips her water ...

And I am very, very grateful to be here.

2 comments:

ms. kitty said...

I would love to be with you and LW tonight, with you strumming the guitar and all of us singing some goofy songs, having a special time even though life is not normal and it's scary and we wish we had magic wands that would make it never be bad again. Someday we'll do that, okay?

plaidshoes said...

I think you deserve more then a moment to whine! You all are going through such a hard, emotionally draining time. You need to have a break (even for just a minute!). I hope things are looking just a little bit brighter today.