No really. I knew it would be bad, but no one/nothing could have prepared me for how bad it really was. And still is.
Last Thursday, well let me take a step back, last Wednesday we began our preparations for Jacob's surgery. We kept him up as late as we possibly could and let him eat and drink as much as he wanted, until midnight. Oh, midnight how I hated for you to grace us with your presence. Jacob still drinks milk through the night. Partly because he wakes up several times due to lack of oxygen flowing through his body (hopeful that surgery fixed this) and his cup o' milk is his security blanket. The one thing that can get him back to sleep better than mommy! Once the clock struck midnight, no more milk, meant a fussy toddler screaming for milk at oh 1, 2, 3, and 4 o'clock AM.
Very exhausted and quite frustrated by 6AM we dressed, loaded the car with "Scout", our favorite blankey, and an empty cup and we were headed to Baylor.
[I have to get on my soap box for a moment, I was highly upset when we arrived because inside the front door, right in the lobby were two vending machines. While I understand that people are sitting out in the lobby waiting on loved ones to have their procedures done, they could also take into consideration that babies are coming through these doors too. Hungry, thirsty, sick babies.]
Once we arrived we did the typical filling out of the paper work and signing our lives away and his too. Then they came to get us. We walked down this tiny hallway to a tiny room with a giant bed that made Jacob look like a tiny ant. He had no part of this giant bed, no part at all. They gave him his "happy juice" and at first we had a few giggles. The giggles didn't last long as he became very combative. Once the feeling of being in la la land became the feeling of loosing all control, the scare set in. Luckily for mommy the OR nurse came very quickly to the rescue. He swept up blankey and Scout and then took Jacob from Jays arms down the hallway...they were taking Scout for a little walk. At this point, I had a complete meltdown. My baby just went down the hall kicking a screaming with a man I just met that was about to take his whole life (and mine too) in his hands, putting my baby to sleep.
Everyone said this would be the hardest part, wrong.
You don't realize how much you hold your breath during times like this. I sat there crying, praying that my baby was strong enough for this, praying that his breathing would be stable before/during/after, and waiting to see the doctor's face.
An hour later the doctor came to give me an update, he said that everything in surgery went perfectly and very routine and he had nothing to report. They were just waiting on him to wake up a little bit so that I could go back there. It should only take about 10 or 15 more minutes and then I could kiss my baby.
20 minutes came and went I still had not kissed my baby. FINALLY the recovery nurse came to get us. She sat us down went over all the discharge paperwork, all of which I could not even understand because my brain was only focused on seeing my baby at the time. She failed to mention that he was having a hard time breathing after the procedure & just walked me back to his recovery room like everything was perfectly fine.
It was not.
She also failed to mention to me that he would not wake up, not even a flinch but the biggest scare was the breathing machine he was hooked up to and the long tube going into his mouth pumping oxygen into his little body. There is NOTHING and I do mean NOTHING harder than seeing your baby lay there with oxygen being pumped into him like life support and not being able to do anything about it. That was just awful and I would have liked a warning before rounding that corner seeing him like that. All I could say was "why does it look like that?" with tears rolling down my face.
After some time with the machine and his O2 levels jumping all over the place (Granny was with us and she was so concerned about the other numbers on the monitor, his blood pressure. Just precious.) they were finally able to get him off the machine the device out of his mouth and oxygen turned off, my baby was breathing on his own and much better than he had breathed in the whole 3 years of his little life. But, he still would not wake up. He just couldn't shake the meds. After a few hours he was able to wake enough and breath enough on his own that we could take him home.
Once at home he slept for another two hours before waking up eating and drinking like there was nothing wrong. I thought to myself boy this is great, hes not crying, hes not saying his hurts, he is drinking like a fish and he is even eating! He even wanted to play outside with papa for little bit. Recovery is going to be a breeze.
Recovery was a breeze the first few days. His breathing has already improved tremendously and he was sleeping through the night very peacefully. Of course with mommy in his bed! Sunday the pain started to catch up to him and he was starting to not do so well. Sunday night wasn't nearly as peaceful. All day yesterday he was so tired but couldn't get comfortable, in so much pain but nothing would work. Just hit a brick wall and hit it hard. This morning I came to work and he is home with his best buddy all day. I got a picture earlier that he was making pizza....from toilet paper. I think his meds are kicking in again!
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