It’s the middle of the night

It is 4:33 a.m. Yes that’s right. Lovely.

The nurse had to wake up Aviana to give her her Tylenol at 2, but the little one has lost all trust in those nurses and wanted me to do it. Thank goodness she is on liquid Tylenol by mouth now. Then she was hungry so she had one bite of the yogurt parfait that I went and got from the fridge for her and exactly one Life square. After some smoocharoonis and making sure I was going to sleep in the chair, she drifted off again.

Not me though, I’ve been awake since then and can’t even keep my eyes closed anymore. It’s hot in this room and there are all kinds of strange noises and poor tortured babies crying and my allergies are acting up even though I took a Claritin when I got up the first time and the floor and/or the nurse’s shoes are really loud. So.

The good– Aviana is showing absolutely no sign of reoccurring infection inside of her, or at the incisions.

We had some friends stop by for a surprise visit. It was great to see other humans again (and for some reason it doesn’t feel like the staff counts even though the nurses and doctors have all been stellar).

Amelia brought Brielle along with some gifts from friends back home this afternoon. It was so good to have her in my arms again. And to know that people were loving on us.

We got Aviana up and walking four times today. We even put her in the racecar wheelchair and took her outside to the little playground in the courtyard. She sat next to me on the porch type swing and we felt normal for a little while as we watched Brielle attempt to climb the chain link fence and go down the slide ladder front first! That child!

Aviana finally stopped talking the cry/whine that has been her modus operendi for two weeks! I understand and I sympathize and I love her so much, but MAN, that cry/whine voice was grating on my nerves.

Tonight Aviana was given permission to eat again, despite not yet having all systems go. She ate half a bowl of Life cereal with milk, even telling me I didn’t put enough milk on it to begin with, and sat right up to eat it! Then she ate several broccoli tops, half a cheese stick and some cottage cheese. She drank several ounces of water and some of her Boost juice box. I can’t believe her tummy can hold that much–surely it has shrunk in the last ten days of not eating…

I actually had make-up to remove tonight when I washed my face. This is significant as it means I must be crying less, since the past several days it was already gone by the time bedtime rolled around.

The bad–My friend who was here had had an appendectomy as an adult, and said she thought the recovery was harder than her Cesareans. And as someone who has had a Cesarean–my heart just cries for my Sweet Baby A.

I tried to take Brielle for a walk this afternoon in the stroller while Aviana was napping. My mom has been using the stroller for all the coming and going. Brielle then associates the stroller with leaving me. She immediately got hysterical. And I mean hysterical. It makes me short of breath and tight chested now, just remembering her fear and innocence and her utter inability to understand why she’s not seeing her mama.

Kevin ran into trouble with the combine–it’s all jammed up and it was after dark so he couldn’t really get in there to fix it. And before he had time to look at it, his mom called him because her car wouldn’t start and she was stuck in town. He was able to get her car started, but he didn’t get home until 8:15. He’s such a hero.

After all the busyness that was tonight, Aviana and I finally were able to settle in to watch our video. I had been snuggling with her on her bed earlier in the evening. I asked her if she wanted to snuggle more, and she said, “No, I just need some time by myself.” I’m glad she’s able to articulate that, and I respect her wishes, but I really didn’t want to. Mama needs a bit ‘o snuggling herself.

The ugly–Besides that, I don’t feel like I’m doing anything to help. It is so hard to watch her go through this. And every time I think about myself, like, “I’m so tired.” “I can’t stand that whiney voice.” “I’m really sick of being stuck here”. I feel so guilty and selfish, because what she’s dealing with is a lot worse than what I am, and she only has the experience, emotions and self-control of a three year old.

We’ve been in the hospital longer now than when she was born six weeks premature.

Brielle screamed and cried and kicked all the way off the unit as Amelia and my dad dragged her away. It gets harder every time to let her go.

Aviana’s IV went bad, and she may be getting an infection at the site. They had to give her a new IV in her hand. It was hard to find a vein that wasn’t already bruised. The nurse was gently efficient though and this was the fastest IV she’s gotten (her third). All I could do was hold her head and pray and cry. Aviana is crying, “No.NO.NO.NO. Go out now. I want a Band-Aid now. No more potes. NO More Potes!! No. NO. NO!” and I’m completely helpless to comfort her. (pote=poke)

I have faith that the dawning day will be a better one. That we are growing ever closer to being well. That soon we’ll be living as a family again.