We didn’t want to be here. I mean, no one ever wants to be here. But, here we are. And, flipping the coin, I am glad to be here. It’s the best place we could be right now. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Where, you ask? Why, here, the place with the the cutesy rooms, the pastel colored walls, and, of course, the plastic cribs. The place where clowns line up at the salad bar, red noses and all. The place where therapy dogs roam the halls, and where all the nurses and doctors are fluent in Goo-Goo-Ga-Ga. Baby talk.
We are here, at the children’s hospital.
We’ve got our sparkly wristbands (blue for boy, of course), that grant us access to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, as well as get us out of paying parking garage fees (it’s like a VIP wristband at a club!). We have super exclusive access to the Family Break Room, where it’s free ice water 24/7.
Being here also means we have access to the best doctors in the state– top of their classes, and most of them have the wackiest and most calming bedside manners I’ve ever seen. If you can get me to smile while talking about the 6 mm hole in my son’s heart, you’ve got magical powers, my friend.
These are the tales from the plastic crib. Well, not my crib. Baby Jack(son)’s crib. Meet little Jack:
You can tell he’s a fighter, he’s already got his fists up to box the next person that calls him “sick”.
He’s got a hole in his heart. He only has one functioning kidney. He’s got a little hand, which we call his lucky fin, just like Finding Nemo (THANK YOU, Disney– I never truly understood the movie until my son was born). And he’s still tied for first as the cutest baby on the planet (tied for first with his sister, of course).
These will be his tales from the plastic crib. One day, I hope he reads back over these posts and says, “Gosh, mom, sorry y’all had to go through all of that! Thank goodness I don’t remember anything, since I was so little.”
Can’t wait to have that conversation with him.