Last night, on Saturday, we made the quick decision to go to Aaron's parents' ward the today. Aunt Katie already lives in their ward and both Uncle David and Aunt Carmen and their respective kids were visiting, so we drove down to spend Church with them. It started out a pretty perfect day: everyone was showered and dressed early, the morning went smoothly, Cole even fell asleep on the way!
I wanted to keep him napping as long as possible, so I carefully removed him from the van and made my way to the chapel, reclining in the pew so that he could sleep with his head by my chin. He continued sleeping through songs and ward business, waking during the Sacrament hymn. The bread was blessed and passed and the blessing over the water was said. When the water came to our bench, I watched as it was passed along my brother in law's family, who then held the tray for me to partake. I took a cup for Cole, still sitting on my lap and as I went to help him drink, I realized there was a stream of blood on my arm flowing from his nose.
I can't express how fast thoughts flew through my head. It felt like there was a lot going on in my mind, but things happened quickly. I nudged Aaron on my other side and he reached to get the wipes for me. In retrospect I should have taken the bloodied cup out with me and trashed it elsewhere, but my first thought was to stop the flow from his nose, so I dropped it into the bottom of the tray like the others. Several family members commented to me later that it changed how the tray looked - Aaron said it looked like kool-aid through the bottoms of the clear plastic cups. Once the tray passed me (in my rush for Cole, I didn't even get a cup for me and felt oddly lopsided the remainder of the day), I kept the wipe which Aaron had handed me over Cole's face and awkwardly made my way past family members to get out.
I found out very quickly that a two-year-old boy does not want his head held still with a hand and tissue clamped over his nose. He kept swinging his head around, getting blood on both of us; probably getting it other places I didn't stop to notice at the time, too. I kept him cuddled to me, facing forward, as I hurried down the hall to the family bathroom. A couple of concerned people offered help as I shut the bathroom door. I sat him on the sink and just put tissue after tissue over his nose, holding it when he'd let me and wiping when he wouldn't. We spent maybe five minutes in the bathroom this way, though it felt much longer.
Cole's nose was still bleeding when we left the bathroom, but I felt we no longer needed the sink, so I grabbed several paper towels and tissues and went to an empty room nearby. One of the kind sisters who'd offered assistance earlier was still in the hall with her own baby to rock and she chatted with me while I ran out of paper towels and my toddler got increasingly annoyed with my attempts to keep blood off his clothing and the rest of the room. She got me more tissue and offered an old burp cloth, saying it'd soak up more and be softer on his face, and that she didn't need so many anyway. What a sweet woman!
After another five minutes or so, his nose finally stopped. It never had been gushing, just bleeding persistently. It had been hard to stay calm for him while I felt like running pell-mell back to the chapel for my keys and taking him to an urgent care. When I felt like his nose was truly done, I took him into the women's restroom and I stripped his shirt and vest off. I rinsed several bloody spots out of his shirt and vest, deciding that, since they were black, the pants could escape notice for the remainder of the block. We went back into the chapel during a talk and his nose was completely fine after that.
It was a startling and confusing and scary ordeal. I still have no idea what started the bleeding; the woman who chatted with me said it could be the dry air, but I'm not sure that's it, because it was particularly humid that morning. Whatever it was, it had me watching him very carefully through the remainder of the talks and jumpily watching the nursery door for the next two hours. Sometimes being a mom takes more out of you emotionally and mentally than it does physically.
I wrote briefly about this on Facebook, but I wanted to remember the entire experience.
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Monday, April 8, 2013
Feeling Blessed
Since my last post, I have felt such an overpowering flow of love, I cannot leave it up as the first thing people see.
First of all, that rant was made within a few hours of learning my decision had to be made. Naturally, with sleep, prayer, and even the rant itself, everything looked a little better. There were multiple calls made Thursday that helped me to grieve through the idea. Two aunts that have each been there for me before stepped up again to give me a shoulder to cry on, advice, a listening ear, a shared tear. I'm so grateful to them! And several sisters from my ward have given support as well. I suddenly find that I can't turn anywhere without an encouraging word, a smile, a scripture or saying that applies to me and lifts me up. My mother, mother-in-law and sister have been so entirely there for me. Aaron and his dad gave me a blessing that gave me such peace.
I'm not saying there won't be hard times ahead, in dealing with crohn's and a probable ileostemy. I am saying that I know that no matter what happens with this, that I have an entire, very large, support system. There are a dozen people offering to be of some assistance whenever I may need it - and that's before I've even had to ask home or visiting teachers! I have a Heavenly Father who sees and understands this current crisis in my life. I know He has been listening to my prayers. I have felt His comforter and seen blessings even in my turmoil. I'm so humbled by the love that's been expressed to me these last four days.
I know that a final decision is not here yet; our meeting with my doctor is the second week of May. I still have to get tapered off of prednisone before a surgery can take place, so, at this point, surgery will be around the end of June or beginning of July.
First of all, that rant was made within a few hours of learning my decision had to be made. Naturally, with sleep, prayer, and even the rant itself, everything looked a little better. There were multiple calls made Thursday that helped me to grieve through the idea. Two aunts that have each been there for me before stepped up again to give me a shoulder to cry on, advice, a listening ear, a shared tear. I'm so grateful to them! And several sisters from my ward have given support as well. I suddenly find that I can't turn anywhere without an encouraging word, a smile, a scripture or saying that applies to me and lifts me up. My mother, mother-in-law and sister have been so entirely there for me. Aaron and his dad gave me a blessing that gave me such peace.
I'm not saying there won't be hard times ahead, in dealing with crohn's and a probable ileostemy. I am saying that I know that no matter what happens with this, that I have an entire, very large, support system. There are a dozen people offering to be of some assistance whenever I may need it - and that's before I've even had to ask home or visiting teachers! I have a Heavenly Father who sees and understands this current crisis in my life. I know He has been listening to my prayers. I have felt His comforter and seen blessings even in my turmoil. I'm so humbled by the love that's been expressed to me these last four days.
I know that a final decision is not here yet; our meeting with my doctor is the second week of May. I still have to get tapered off of prednisone before a surgery can take place, so, at this point, surgery will be around the end of June or beginning of July.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Big Ol' Rant
It's not really a rant so much as an emotional flood.
Crohn's has been a part of my life since the year I got married. It made that first year all kinds of interesting. There is nothing like starting to have intimite time with your husband and having everything screeching to a halt because you just couldn't make it to the bathroom in time. Or feeling kind of proud that your wedding day weight is the lowest you've been since jr. high, only to realize it was because of a life long illness. Then getting tossed on multitudes of medications to try to stem the effects, but the effects of the meds sometimes feel as bad as the effects of being sick. I hated feeling bloated, hungry, un-sexy, gross, out of control, raging emotions, and tired.
It's been 8 years of cycling through feeling medicated and awful, medicated and a little better, unmedicated and worse. All around the spectrum.
Today, my dr. and I had a talk about an ileostemy - taking out the colon and using an 'ostemy' pouch. My first thoughts were, "I'm not even 30 yet; how can I go around missing half of my insides?" I feel like I've only recently come to terms with my hysterectomy a year ago, and now I not only had to go losing another part of me, but I have to add a weird pouch.
Thankfully, it won't effect my wardrobe, since I tend to wear things that cover my torso completely and are not tight-fitting. But there is a whole huge part of my that is really having a hard time with this. Several times in the last year, I've felt like I'm less of a woman with out my uterus. My husband is quick to reassure me and I know that he doesn't think less of me. But as insecure as I've been feeling about that, the idea of having my 'stool' in a pouch on my stomach makes me feel just that much less beautiful and desirable.
I've already had a long talk with Aaron about how this affects me and my feelings about myself. He is wonderfully supportive, like he was that first year of marriage. I couldn't ask for a better guy to have around forever. I have been trying hard to look at the positives that will come of this - no more bathroom accidents, no more medications or the side effects of them, no more worrying when colon cancer is going to hit, no more colonoscopies (hey, no colon, no '-oscopy', right?). And yes, I know it will better my life. But for the moment, I just want to have a good cry and when I'm done, I'll feel much better about this whole thing.
P.S. I am not meaning to discount or brush aside any disabilities. I know I have been very blessed. But this is my moment to cry.
Crohn's has been a part of my life since the year I got married. It made that first year all kinds of interesting. There is nothing like starting to have intimite time with your husband and having everything screeching to a halt because you just couldn't make it to the bathroom in time. Or feeling kind of proud that your wedding day weight is the lowest you've been since jr. high, only to realize it was because of a life long illness. Then getting tossed on multitudes of medications to try to stem the effects, but the effects of the meds sometimes feel as bad as the effects of being sick. I hated feeling bloated, hungry, un-sexy, gross, out of control, raging emotions, and tired.
It's been 8 years of cycling through feeling medicated and awful, medicated and a little better, unmedicated and worse. All around the spectrum.
Today, my dr. and I had a talk about an ileostemy - taking out the colon and using an 'ostemy' pouch. My first thoughts were, "I'm not even 30 yet; how can I go around missing half of my insides?" I feel like I've only recently come to terms with my hysterectomy a year ago, and now I not only had to go losing another part of me, but I have to add a weird pouch.
Thankfully, it won't effect my wardrobe, since I tend to wear things that cover my torso completely and are not tight-fitting. But there is a whole huge part of my that is really having a hard time with this. Several times in the last year, I've felt like I'm less of a woman with out my uterus. My husband is quick to reassure me and I know that he doesn't think less of me. But as insecure as I've been feeling about that, the idea of having my 'stool' in a pouch on my stomach makes me feel just that much less beautiful and desirable.
I've already had a long talk with Aaron about how this affects me and my feelings about myself. He is wonderfully supportive, like he was that first year of marriage. I couldn't ask for a better guy to have around forever. I have been trying hard to look at the positives that will come of this - no more bathroom accidents, no more medications or the side effects of them, no more worrying when colon cancer is going to hit, no more colonoscopies (hey, no colon, no '-oscopy', right?). And yes, I know it will better my life. But for the moment, I just want to have a good cry and when I'm done, I'll feel much better about this whole thing.
P.S. I am not meaning to discount or brush aside any disabilities. I know I have been very blessed. But this is my moment to cry.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanksgiving brought some excitement for us this year. Though my sister and her family were able to travel from New York to be with us, they sadly brought a bit of a sickie with them. To play it safe, we decided to avoid sharing germs with the extended family at Grandma's and did our own Thanksgiving feast. The kids were pretty happy with their themed placemats which they got to decorate and play with.
A quick run to the local PickNSave supplied us with a small turkey breast and some rolls, which completed our meal. Aaron had the honors of 'carving the turkey', as head of household.
LaNita and Josh - SO glad you could come and share with us!
Me and Aaron - just coming down with sniffles.
Cole was content to chase cheerios and pomagranate seeds around his tray.
Before ills befell, LaNita and I, between us, had been in charge of a fruit salad (pomagranate salad), a veggie (broccoli salad), mashed potatoes and smashed roots, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and a meat/cheese/cracker tray. With our quick run to get rolls and turkey, we really did have quite a feast. My sweet next-door neighbor noticed we were home and inquired why, and was quick to share a pumpkin pie, since she said they had several. We were very blessed!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The Story (super long post!)
I've had requests to get on documenting this story, so here goes!
The first exciting bit of news for me was that my sister made it safely from Utah to my place a whole day earlier than expected, so we got to have a day wherein Aaron accomplished a bit more, Josh got to rest, La and I got to go together to the hospital to do my prenatal stuff and then do some shopping and she helped me start my coloring project for the file folders I'm putting in the kids' Easter baskets. And all the kids got an extra day to be acquainted and get rowdy together. After being anxious about it for the last two weeks, I was relieved NOT to have gone into labor unexpectedly like I did with Carson. We adults all stayed up too late, playing Scorched Earch and chatting. All in all, Tuesday was a pretty spectacular day!
Wednesday morning, I woke up fasting, as I should have, to prepare for the surgery. Thankfully, the surgery was scheduled for 10:30 and we had to be at the hospital by 8:30, so I didn't feel like my fasting was starving me at all. Just before 8am, when Aaron and I left, I gave each of the older kids a big hug, told them to be good, and I'd see them in a couple of days.
At the hospital, the pre-surgery stuff felt routine, just long. I had a couple different people come and chat, like nurses, doctors and anesthesiologists. My nurse, Sonka, was one of the most experienced at the IV poke and was frustrated that she couldn't find a good vein. She tried once, then called an anesthesiologist. He was also frustrated by my small veins, said it was normal to have them be a little troublesome due to the fasting and having no extra fluid in them, and poked me three times without success. On the plus side, he used a topical number so at least I wasn't feeling the problem.
At one point, after they'd poked me several times, there was no one else in the room and I asked Aaron to give me a blessing. He blessed me with good doctors and nurses who would know what to do and that I was loved and watched over. After that, the anesthesiologist came back and poked me once more, finally getting a good spot and using a slightly smaller needle to accomplish it. Success! Then the cool fluid started in and I remembered that I didn't like the feeling AFTER the poke any more than the poke itself. Oh, well - I'd have a baby at the end of the day anyway!
Aaron was sent to scrub up and I was walked to the room. I loved the nurse that sat with me while I got my spinal block. She was very sweet, patting my shoulder or arm and reminding me that I was doing great. Aaron had been teasing me in the previous weeks that when Carson was born, I was such a grump and not nice to anyone, least of all the nurses. So that morning I made an effort to be kind even when informing them when a feeling was bad. I think being nice made me happy, too.
There was that strange feeling of my body going to sleep but still being aware, with the oxygen flowing in my nose as well. There was the 'mean' nurse who kept asking me what I could feel by poking me with a pin repeatedly until I couldn't feel the prick. Aaron came back in, the curtain went up, and the doctors got to work. I felt good: the doctors were talking to me, I didn't feel like the meds were effecting me as negatively as they had the time before, and Aaron was right there with me, grinning (I could only see his eyes, but I could tell) as he was occasionally told to sit back down. (Silly boy and his curiousity!) I felt the tug - I swear I could feel my ribs fall back into place immediately. What a relief! And I heard him cry - so sweet!
The next couple things, I'm not positive on their order, but my anesthesia went out of balance and I bounced back and forth between being nauseated and dizzy and also the doctors started sounding a little less sure and I heard 'I can't..." and "it won't..." and "she's losing a lot of blood here." I was busy being sick. My doctor stuck his head over the curtain and briefly explained to me: something was wrong with my placenta and uterus; I was losing a lot of blood; he was very sure that a hysterectomy was the safest and quickest way to help me. I glanced at Aaron and we nodded to the doctor.
This new developement included a need for me to have a different kind of anesthetic - one that imposed a handful of tubes down my throat. At least, I felt like it was a handful; it may have only been one or two. I know I gagged on them and Aaron was looking concerned, then they told Aaron he had to leave so they could get things done. I found out later that Aaron was very not okay with this; he wanted to watch me and see I was okay instead of hearing the one reassurance that I was asleep and things would be fine. He was angry that they said they'd update him in a few minutes and keep him updated, but he didn't hear from them for a couple of hours. He was worried.
Waking up again was my foggiest time. I vaguely remember that Aaron and his mom were both there, telling me that I was in the ICU for observation over night. I think it was still late afternoon at that point. They brought Cole down from the nursery for me to meet and we took a couple of pictures then. I was happy to forgo suffering the legs-waking-up feeling, since I'd slept through it all. And I was still pumping myself with morphine every chance I got. I think they told me I could press it once every 10 minutes and I know I worked that button plenty. Aaron told me that the final count on my blood was that they put 6 units of blood into me. A unit is, he thinks, a pint. He said the human body has 7 quarts of blood in it. So 6 pints is 3 quarts. I was nearly down half my body's needed blood supply. Crazy!
It was about this time that we also had a talk about whether Aaron would get on the plane to Mexico the next morning. I wanted so badly for him to be able to take advantage of his job and the rewards he'd earned there, but he was adament. This was my first clue about how scared he'd been while I was drifting in drugged up dreamland. He not only stayed and never mentioned the loss of his trip, but was the most loving, caring and supportive husband I could ever have asked for. I love Aaron!
I spent a long night there in the ICU. I couldn't sleep for some of it (who sleeps after sleeping all day long?) so I got a little light reading in. I also was able to get up three times to try to use the toilet. Nothing ever happened because I still had the cathater, but you know, you always feel a little like you need to. And the toilet in there was neat - attatched to a cupboard door beneath the sink - economic. Aaron wasn't allowed to stay overnight there in the ICU with me, unless he stayed in the one hard chair, so he accepted the help of the nurses and took the room where I would spend the next 3 days and slept there.
In the morning, we're now on Thursday, Aaron, two nurses and a wheelchair showed up to help me to the nursery level and move rooms for the rest of my stay. They took away my push-button and dosed me with Percocet. The next few days were just regular hospital days, it seemed to me. Different nurses and people popping in. Having to inform each one them of either my crohn's or my hysterectomy or both. Hospital food. Reading. Coloring more on my Easter project for the kids. Sleeping. Talking to more doctors. Slowly - oh, so slowly! - getting mobile again.
Many of the doctors or nurses talking to me warned me of watching for post-partum depression even more since I lost my uterus. Part of me wanted to yell at them all that Cole is so loved, that he is more precious to me than I can explain, that I'm not sad about it. But even as I type that, I can feel myself getting teary and emotional and I can't tell if it's because I love my son or I realize more than ever that he is my last. And might I not have felt that way even with tubal ligation? I don't know. So I'm on the lookout.
We finally checked out of the hospital on Sunday morning. Lots of gathering freebies, packing, waiting, waiting and waiting and finally a flurry of 3 minutes of paper signing, then we were gone. Since I've been home, I've been up one flight of stairs but have yet to see the kids' rooms again. I am loving my little suite where Cole and I spend much of the morning where we both have what we need: bathroom, stack of diapers, milk and bottles, and a heater. Afternoons, I usually make it upstairs to rest on the couch with Cole in his swing. It's nice to be home, and I'm really looking forward to this weekend, when my mom gets here to be with me!
I'm very grateful for the team of doctors and nurses who jumped to action during my surgery. For the nurses who cared for me and for Cole while we both recovered and prepared to get home. I'm so very glad that my sister was able to be here and care for my little family while I couldn't and for Aaron's family who was also very supportive and understanding of our needs. I'm grateful for Aaron, who stayed by my side and chose not to go to Mexico after all our big talk of him getting away. He's been a stellar man this week helping me do literally everything and keeping our home and family going. And I'm going to be spending the next long while filling out thank you cards to all the other amazing people who have jumped in when we needed them. Mostly, I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to stay here with my sweet family who I now appreciate more than ever, and for the blessings we've received through this trial.
The first exciting bit of news for me was that my sister made it safely from Utah to my place a whole day earlier than expected, so we got to have a day wherein Aaron accomplished a bit more, Josh got to rest, La and I got to go together to the hospital to do my prenatal stuff and then do some shopping and she helped me start my coloring project for the file folders I'm putting in the kids' Easter baskets. And all the kids got an extra day to be acquainted and get rowdy together. After being anxious about it for the last two weeks, I was relieved NOT to have gone into labor unexpectedly like I did with Carson. We adults all stayed up too late, playing Scorched Earch and chatting. All in all, Tuesday was a pretty spectacular day!
Wednesday morning, I woke up fasting, as I should have, to prepare for the surgery. Thankfully, the surgery was scheduled for 10:30 and we had to be at the hospital by 8:30, so I didn't feel like my fasting was starving me at all. Just before 8am, when Aaron and I left, I gave each of the older kids a big hug, told them to be good, and I'd see them in a couple of days.
At the hospital, the pre-surgery stuff felt routine, just long. I had a couple different people come and chat, like nurses, doctors and anesthesiologists. My nurse, Sonka, was one of the most experienced at the IV poke and was frustrated that she couldn't find a good vein. She tried once, then called an anesthesiologist. He was also frustrated by my small veins, said it was normal to have them be a little troublesome due to the fasting and having no extra fluid in them, and poked me three times without success. On the plus side, he used a topical number so at least I wasn't feeling the problem.
At one point, after they'd poked me several times, there was no one else in the room and I asked Aaron to give me a blessing. He blessed me with good doctors and nurses who would know what to do and that I was loved and watched over. After that, the anesthesiologist came back and poked me once more, finally getting a good spot and using a slightly smaller needle to accomplish it. Success! Then the cool fluid started in and I remembered that I didn't like the feeling AFTER the poke any more than the poke itself. Oh, well - I'd have a baby at the end of the day anyway!
Aaron was sent to scrub up and I was walked to the room. I loved the nurse that sat with me while I got my spinal block. She was very sweet, patting my shoulder or arm and reminding me that I was doing great. Aaron had been teasing me in the previous weeks that when Carson was born, I was such a grump and not nice to anyone, least of all the nurses. So that morning I made an effort to be kind even when informing them when a feeling was bad. I think being nice made me happy, too.
There was that strange feeling of my body going to sleep but still being aware, with the oxygen flowing in my nose as well. There was the 'mean' nurse who kept asking me what I could feel by poking me with a pin repeatedly until I couldn't feel the prick. Aaron came back in, the curtain went up, and the doctors got to work. I felt good: the doctors were talking to me, I didn't feel like the meds were effecting me as negatively as they had the time before, and Aaron was right there with me, grinning (I could only see his eyes, but I could tell) as he was occasionally told to sit back down. (Silly boy and his curiousity!) I felt the tug - I swear I could feel my ribs fall back into place immediately. What a relief! And I heard him cry - so sweet!
The next couple things, I'm not positive on their order, but my anesthesia went out of balance and I bounced back and forth between being nauseated and dizzy and also the doctors started sounding a little less sure and I heard 'I can't..." and "it won't..." and "she's losing a lot of blood here." I was busy being sick. My doctor stuck his head over the curtain and briefly explained to me: something was wrong with my placenta and uterus; I was losing a lot of blood; he was very sure that a hysterectomy was the safest and quickest way to help me. I glanced at Aaron and we nodded to the doctor.
This new developement included a need for me to have a different kind of anesthetic - one that imposed a handful of tubes down my throat. At least, I felt like it was a handful; it may have only been one or two. I know I gagged on them and Aaron was looking concerned, then they told Aaron he had to leave so they could get things done. I found out later that Aaron was very not okay with this; he wanted to watch me and see I was okay instead of hearing the one reassurance that I was asleep and things would be fine. He was angry that they said they'd update him in a few minutes and keep him updated, but he didn't hear from them for a couple of hours. He was worried.
Waking up again was my foggiest time. I vaguely remember that Aaron and his mom were both there, telling me that I was in the ICU for observation over night. I think it was still late afternoon at that point. They brought Cole down from the nursery for me to meet and we took a couple of pictures then. I was happy to forgo suffering the legs-waking-up feeling, since I'd slept through it all. And I was still pumping myself with morphine every chance I got. I think they told me I could press it once every 10 minutes and I know I worked that button plenty. Aaron told me that the final count on my blood was that they put 6 units of blood into me. A unit is, he thinks, a pint. He said the human body has 7 quarts of blood in it. So 6 pints is 3 quarts. I was nearly down half my body's needed blood supply. Crazy!
It was about this time that we also had a talk about whether Aaron would get on the plane to Mexico the next morning. I wanted so badly for him to be able to take advantage of his job and the rewards he'd earned there, but he was adament. This was my first clue about how scared he'd been while I was drifting in drugged up dreamland. He not only stayed and never mentioned the loss of his trip, but was the most loving, caring and supportive husband I could ever have asked for. I love Aaron!
I spent a long night there in the ICU. I couldn't sleep for some of it (who sleeps after sleeping all day long?) so I got a little light reading in. I also was able to get up three times to try to use the toilet. Nothing ever happened because I still had the cathater, but you know, you always feel a little like you need to. And the toilet in there was neat - attatched to a cupboard door beneath the sink - economic. Aaron wasn't allowed to stay overnight there in the ICU with me, unless he stayed in the one hard chair, so he accepted the help of the nurses and took the room where I would spend the next 3 days and slept there.
In the morning, we're now on Thursday, Aaron, two nurses and a wheelchair showed up to help me to the nursery level and move rooms for the rest of my stay. They took away my push-button and dosed me with Percocet. The next few days were just regular hospital days, it seemed to me. Different nurses and people popping in. Having to inform each one them of either my crohn's or my hysterectomy or both. Hospital food. Reading. Coloring more on my Easter project for the kids. Sleeping. Talking to more doctors. Slowly - oh, so slowly! - getting mobile again.
Many of the doctors or nurses talking to me warned me of watching for post-partum depression even more since I lost my uterus. Part of me wanted to yell at them all that Cole is so loved, that he is more precious to me than I can explain, that I'm not sad about it. But even as I type that, I can feel myself getting teary and emotional and I can't tell if it's because I love my son or I realize more than ever that he is my last. And might I not have felt that way even with tubal ligation? I don't know. So I'm on the lookout.
We finally checked out of the hospital on Sunday morning. Lots of gathering freebies, packing, waiting, waiting and waiting and finally a flurry of 3 minutes of paper signing, then we were gone. Since I've been home, I've been up one flight of stairs but have yet to see the kids' rooms again. I am loving my little suite where Cole and I spend much of the morning where we both have what we need: bathroom, stack of diapers, milk and bottles, and a heater. Afternoons, I usually make it upstairs to rest on the couch with Cole in his swing. It's nice to be home, and I'm really looking forward to this weekend, when my mom gets here to be with me!
I'm very grateful for the team of doctors and nurses who jumped to action during my surgery. For the nurses who cared for me and for Cole while we both recovered and prepared to get home. I'm so very glad that my sister was able to be here and care for my little family while I couldn't and for Aaron's family who was also very supportive and understanding of our needs. I'm grateful for Aaron, who stayed by my side and chose not to go to Mexico after all our big talk of him getting away. He's been a stellar man this week helping me do literally everything and keeping our home and family going. And I'm going to be spending the next long while filling out thank you cards to all the other amazing people who have jumped in when we needed them. Mostly, I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to stay here with my sweet family who I now appreciate more than ever, and for the blessings we've received through this trial.
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