Plans, such simple things that, in an instant, can show you where your priorities lay.
I had originally planned to blog this week. A post about parenting and Peanut, another post about a great new book exploring the academic themes of Joss Whedon's work.
Then Peanut stopped eating. . . and drinking . . . and my heart dropped.
Instead of night filled with baby giggles and kitten snuggles, Hubby and I spent a night filled with ER smells, beeps, and urgency. We learned how difficult blood draws and IV's are to get on babies who haven't ate or drank in 29 hours. We also learned about admissions, pediatric wards, ambulance transfers, and surgeons.
In the midst of our four day adventure, I learned how many times a heart can drop on one adventure
- as you watch your baby cry for food that won't stay down
- as you listen to the doctor say "I don't know"
- as you find out you're being transferred to another hospital while your husband drives behind in a snowstorn
- as you hear the words "surgery" even if it is a routine hernia repair (it's never routine when it's your baby)
- as you stand alone in a hallway watching them wheel your crying child into the OR
- as you walk back to his empty room to wait for word
Apparently, hearts can drop a lot.
I am so grateful that medicine has advanced to the point where, less than a week later, our Peanut is home, in his bed, and recovering.
Blogging will wait for a few more days because this Mama's heart can't wait another minute.