We’re doing much better. Aviana is resting peacefully despite the nurses discussing loudly right outside her door, over the cacophony of the other children crying, IV pumps beeping, phones ringing and the janitor cleaning the floors with an extraordinarily loud machine. I guess the morphine is doing its job. I was reluctant to let her have it, as I can’t bear to see her all drugged up, but decided that was selfish, since the side effects are low and benefits are high. She was crying last night because her tummy hurt so much, and about five minutes after we gave her morphine, she was calm and fell asleep.
When my parents arrived with Brielle, Kevin and I took her on a walk. She was giddy with excitement to have us both there, running delightedly from one to the other. We ended up on the eighth floor in the U of I Hospital Museum with artifacts and photos and stories about the history of the hospital and medicine in general. Makes me grateful to be living now versus 1854 when surgery to remove a lead bar some idiot drunk guy swallowed (a bar-o-lead-ectomy) was totally experimental. It was a nice day, so then we went downstairs to the little play ground they have in the courtyard. Brielle was such fun, just laughing and smiling, loving life.
It was so hard to say good bye to her again when my mom took her back home at the end of the evening. It was even harder when my mom and my dad each told me seperately that on two separate occasions, they walked by a woman who looked similar to me. Brielle just went ballistic, screaming and trying to get out of Mom’s arms to reach the woman. Finally, they had to go over and speak with these women so that Brielle could see she wasn’t me. She’s only 13 months old. She doesn’t understand why I’m suddenly not available. She hasn’t been away from me for a whole day in her whole life and now we are apart at night and a majority of the day. I am thankful though our family and friends are stepping in to watch her, and continue to make the drive here to bring her to me, so we don’t have to wean her, and we will at least get to see each other for a little bit.
Kevin went home early this morning, so he can get out in the field again. That’s another thing to be thankful for; it rained twice this week. Since the fields were wet, he wasn’t feeling too worried that he hadn’t been harvesting the corn and beans. He’ll work today and tomorrow for sure, and maybe will come back up on Saturday.
My dad is here now, so I’m going to go.
Keep praying for her to heal. I’m hopeful we’ll be able to get Aviana up and go for a walk today. Keep praying for Brielle too–that she won’t be too traumatized by this crazy schedule she is being forced into.