"H" is for Hospital

Every day when I drive my daughter to her preschool, we pass the hospital where she was born and where I had my surgery.  Most days she asks me about it as we drive by, confirming that we both do indeed have a connection to this massive building.  She is consistently searching to find connections between the two of us, she thrives on it, and I in turn, enjoy this affirmation of a love I could never have imagined before she arrived.   

Before my surgery, I drove her to school every morning and picked her up most afternoons.  I would put her to bed almost every night.  This wasn’t because my husband wasn’t willing, it was because that’s the routine that had been established and it was one sided and unfair to him more than anything.  The first time I ended up in the emergency room, I drove myself in the middle of the night because she was sleeping and my husband needed to stay with her.  The second time, she found me curled up on the bathroom floor and ran to get my husband.  She drove with us to the hospital but my best friend met us there and took her home because I didn’t want her at the hospital.  Over the next five days, I only saw her once a day and usually it was only for about fifteen minutes.  She was always happy to see me but a hospital room is boring for a two year old and I was stuck in a bed.  In those five days there was a paradigm shift and all parental duties went to daddy.

It was harder for her when I got home.  I couldn’t move very fast and I couldn’t pick her up but I was there and that was confusing.  She had to be careful with me and she was.  She was very aware of what was going on and I was honest and answered her questions the best I could in terms that she could understand.  Throughout the process, we talked a lot about what was going on and we tried to be honest with her about what to expect.  But at this point I wasn’t in charge of any real parenting duties.  My patience was suddenly vast and my husband was exhausted but he was also adamant that I wasn’t going to rush the healing process by overdoing it.  If we were both in the house though, she always kept me in her line of sight.  She was afraid and it was heartbreaking.  I did pick her up too early and ended up pulling a muscle in my abdomen.  It hurt but I didn’t cause any damage and it was worth it to be able to hold my baby again. 

Chemo was more challenging because sometimes I felt fine and other times I was exhausted and painful.  My first day off the steroids in the first round of chemo, she and I spent the morning chasing each other around the house and then I crashed hard and my first bout of neuropathy showed up.  My husband and mother in law basically spent the weekends taking her places so that I could rest, but it became more difficult because she caught onto that and started saying that she just wanted to stay home.  By the third round though, we all knew what to expect.  “This is the last time with the bad medicine Mommy?” she would ask, and I would nod and assure her that yes, this was the last time.  When my hair fell out, she would rub my head and say, “Don’t worry, it will grow back.”  And now that it is indeed growing back, she rubs her face in it all the time.  Although, she is deeply concerned that it is brown and not blonde, like hers.

After the last round of chemo, I quickly got back to helping my husband with the hard stuff.  Mainly bedtime, which is always an adventure, but we share the responsibility now and it’s so much better.  It’s easier because we can explain to her whose turn it is to do what and she schemes like all evil geniuses should.

She is visibly more relaxed and is more comfortable every day.  She asks fewer questions about why I had to go to the hospital and what exactly was done to me.  But occasionally she will still give me an odd look and ask, “You’re all better now Mommy?”  Over the past four months every toy she owns has had to visit the doctor for “tummy troubles”.  Some have required surgery while others just ate too much, but she is very good to make sure they all see the doctor regardless.  No two year old should have to go through what she did, but she is a remarkable little human and like all small humans, is stronger and smarter than most grown-ups realize.