False alarm. All those wonderful recovery items that I listed before that I planned on witnessing after his surgery Friday will have to wait.
He got bumped.
Not even bumped: erased. Deleted. We weren’t moved someplace else, we just have a vague “possibly next week” to go on.
We’re back in limbo. My little guy is not getting better on his own, and there are no concrete plans to help him get better in the future.
We’re just living our lives in this hospital, which means life has stopped. His newborn days are floating by, being used up in the NICU. My daughter, who should be having summer fun with both her parents, and getting to know her little brother, is having to settle for seeing one parent at a time, save for a few hours on the weekends. Its maddening.
I need a bunch of chocolate.