Working Mama

This morning I woke up at 6 am. Ow. I was ready early (imagine that! no baby to drag around) and went through the McD's drive through for a free coffee. I like their new cups. Free coffee during breakfast hours all week the commercial says. I did spend money on a muffin. I'm not that cheap. My commute is only 20 minutes - the shortest commute of my career thus far.

I worked in Day Surgery all day and it's pretty much like it was in Portage. Fast paced but not difficult. The people seem friendly and forgiving. Also, I'm getting a chance to practice my German skills.

On my way home I drove through Timmy's and got a winning roll up for a free coffee. I'm sure I've had 200 of them this year with no winners.

When I got home the Boy was sleeping, an appliance repair guy was here, the house was clean. I went for a 2 mile walk with Pooch. When I returned Isaiah woke up and gave me a nice hug. Baby and Husband were both dressed. Supper was in the works.

I was very impressed.

Until...

Our fridge cost $300 to repair. I opened the mail and found that a lien was placed against our property in excess of $20,000 due to our builders having serious financial problems. Then to top it off, I picked up my baby and found that he'd grown up while I was at work.

For Crying Out Loud

Tomorrow I start work. The Husband is off for the next few days while I work and then I'm off when he works. It'll delay the start of daycare by one week. Next week the boy will go for a couple of hours to start, followed by full days at the end of the week. Hopefully it's a gentle enough immersion.

Often at night Isaiah only wants me. We've been practicing having the Husband tend to him at night, hoping to improve the Boy's flexibility. Daddy is putting him down at bedtime more often too. It's been going okay except for the last few nights. Bedtimes are a trial. He screams until he falls asleep. If we go in, he screams harder in downright anger. I think he smells change.

This evening I sat in the room next to my baby's, listening to Daddy read to him and settle him for bed. He wasn't okay with that. He wanted Mama. It broke my heart not to go in and take care of him.

My maternity leave is over. Officially. Where has this year gone? I've raised a boy and kept him alive but accomplished little else. In the morning I'm going to work. Although I'm excited about it and I know it'll be good to expand my world, it just feels wrong tonight. What if he cries all day? What if he thinks Mama isn't coming back? I can't explain it to him. I just hope it isn't too hard for any of us.

Please God, let us sleep well tonight. I have impressions to make and things to remember tomorrow.

Countdown

In many ways this past year has felt long. We've had many changes in our life. Positive changes, but big changes. They range from becoming parents to building a house. Most of it I think I've coped quite well with. Often, though, I've wished I could get out of the house more and dabble in work. I miss nursing and interacting with adults. I've also wished for the freedom of having a second vehicle so that we're not stranded at home when the Husband is working.

Now that it's almost over, it feels like everything happened in the wink of an eye. Wasn't it yesterday that I was pregnant? This is officially my last week on Maternity leave. Next week I start a half time, permanent position in the Recovery Room of a local hospital. No shift work required - it's only day shifts. I'm pumped about it.

I'm a little nervous about how Isaiah will do at day care. He's likely more resilient than I am and will do fine. But geez, if he takes his first steps there I will be so jealous.

Breathless

Lately I've been sneaking into my son's room after he is sleeping. Thumb in mouth, he cuddles face down into his blanket. Always one that Grandma made for him with love before we ever knew him outside of the womb. His back rises and falls in an easy rhythm drowned out by the sound of the ever present fan which provides invaluable white noise. He's resting and peaceful. And so beautiful that he takes my breath away.

Just two weeks ago he fought for air. In a 24 hour period I watched his struggle increase. Each breath rattled his body. His appetite decreased. His wet diapers became less. The Doctor we saw at the rural hospital assured me it was simple laryngitis which would be cured with oral antibiotics. I questioned him, reminding him that there had been no wet diaper for 12 hours. I was given shallow reassurance and sent to Shoppers Drug Mart to fill a prescription.

My Mama's heart couldn't rest easy that evening, so I inflated the air mattress and took up camp in Isaiah's room. Every breath sounded labored and painful. The sound grated on me like nails on a chalkboard.


Morning came with no improvement. I jumped in a hot bath with my babe, thinking that perhaps the steam would ease his breathing. Instead, he deteriorated before my eyes. I doubted myself and called my Mum and a close friend. What should I do, I asked? A strange sense of calm took over and I decided to take the boy to the hospital. The Husband and the Mum had responsibilities at church so I called my best back up - Aunt Carol.


In a matter of minutes Carol re-organized her morning to meet me at the hospital. We drove, not rushing. The boy was quiet except for the sound of his breath, rattling.


I got out of the car and picked up my kid. His skin tone shocked me. No longer was he a nice healthy tanned color... instead he was grey. Every muscle in his neck strained with each breath. I hurried in with him and stated "Mybabyishavingtroublebreathingandswallowingandhehasnthadawetdiaperin24hrsandhesgettingworse"



From the door to the doctor was less than 5 minutes. With his shirt off I could see his body working to breathe. All of the symptoms of respiratory distress I had only read about in nursing classes were evident. Stridor. That's what the noisy breathing was. I had always imagined it to be higher pitched.


An IV elicited barely a flinch from my boy. Steroids, epinephrine face masks, and fluids were given. An X-ray showed swelling in his throat. My Aunt functioned as my 3rd and 4th hands, carrying stuff, giving me breaks, and providing support.

We were admitted for a few days. Diagnosed with either viral tracheitis or severe croup. Never have I seen a child who is Just. So. Loved. People rearranged their lives, declined shifts, brought food and toys, spent time, and phoned daily.

It has taken me a while to process how close we came to leaving the hospital without our son. I haven't known how to put it exactly into words. I just don't think words can do justice.

Under Grandma's watchful eye. She made us supper and gave us breaks daily.



Assuming the safe position. Hiding under his blankie, sucking his thumb.

Complaining to Daddy.