Hospital

Well, Jari's surgery is over. He did great and claims he can hear lots better. I hope this is true. It's very hard for a mama to go through an operation with her child. As much as you know it will offer them a better life, it is so difficult allowing your child to be put under and know what consequences *could* come from this. As I held Jari while we waited for his pre-medicine "juice" to start working, tears streamed down my face. My baby was like a drunken soldier, claiming to have wings with which he could fly and fingers which could jump. He resisted the need to relax and tried sitting and speaking with no positive results. As I gave him a last kiss at the doors of the opeartion room and returned to his own empty little hospital room with a beautifully painted ceiling, I tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape...I just wanted my baby in my arms. After an hour my wait was over and I had a drowsy but fixed Jari in my arms...where he slept for another 2 hours. I didn't want to put him down, but finally my arms gave out and I left him to sleep in his bed and I just watched him, so happy to have him in my life. I also thought back so many times to my early years with Kaeden...the daily trips to docs and hospitals, the code blue and such a panicking fear that raced through my body, the many IV's and breathing treatments, the days and nights waking up in a hospital room while my son laid in his bed, surrounded by plastic tents which gave him the oxygen he needed to breathe...reading stories and playing games inside his healthy bubble with him. With Jari, this was a one-time deal, no less scary, but with more hope of success, no fear that we may need to return again tomorrow. With Kaeden, we lived in the hospital for weeks at a time and knew that the next visit wouldn't be far away...when would his breathing become labored and when would we go to a doctor that requested immediate assistance from an ambulance to get him there in time to save his life? As many times as I went through his attacks with him, I could never judge myself when the situation was life-threatening...or rather, I was embarrassed that I'd bring him to the hospital only to be sent away with rolling eyes from the hospital staff over the worried single mama on state medical assistance using up their precious tax dollars. That was my place then, but as I have matured as a mother and realized what precious gifts my children are, I no longer worry about what anyone else thinks...I do what feels right, for myself and my child. I take them to appointments when I think it is needed regardless whether the doctor feels my need is justified. I am a mama and I am the very best judge of my children's health. I may not know all those medical terms, I may not know exactly where to feel for an inflamed intestine or see fluid behind my child's ear, but I know the signs...I know that a tummy ache comes from stress or obstruction, I know that if I whisper my son won't hear me, I know the look of gloomy eyes and the red cheeks of a fever even behind a smile. I know my children.

This experience with Jari has been good all around. My son had a tummy ache for 5 hours yesterday but afterwards he was back to his normal, active, vibrant self. He was playing in the sand box and playing chase with his big brother. He is a picture of good health, as is my once sickly little Riley boy. My daily worries and struggles have changed, but I am no longer timid and afraid of pitied glances. My children are my world, and they deserve health and happiness...and darnit all, that's what they'll get if this mama bear has anything to say about it all.