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The Waiting Room

March 19, 2018 By: Staceycomment

Two weeks turned into forever. The night before went way too fast.

Then we were on our way to the hospital.

My 4 year old is my world. She is funny, kind, smart, and sweet with just the right touch of a mischievous quality to her.

We knew there was a possibility this day would come. The doctors warned us but at the same time said there was no need to worry. This was something that could be fixed.

Glass half full scenario. Filled to the top if you really look at it considering all the alternatives.

Still, this was my baby. I inhaled her scent as if I was holding her in my arms the night she was born. I kept it together long enough to keep reassuring her as we changed her into the hospital gown while my husband paced.

He was scared too.

When there were only minutes left, time turned to forever again.

Silently the tears started to fall and I just couldn’t breathe.

My daughter, the 4 year old is the bravest girl I know. I hope one day to be like her.

It just wasn’t that day.

Her cries filled the room as they quickly wheeled her away. They are still somehow echoing in my ears. The nurse made eye contact with me and patted my back explaining they’ve got her now. Not to worry.

They led us to a waiting room where we sit here among others checking their phones with nervous glances. We are given a pager that will go off when there is an update for us. A computer screen overhead with a special number for our baby gives a status of surgery in progress.

Our waiting that had been going on for two weeks really began.

How do you pass the time when you know you are doing what is best for your child but you have no control over what is happening?

The book I brought can’t hold my attention. For a change, my phone doesn’t even keep me occupied. I eavesdrop on how others are passing the time.  I glance at the clock. It’s only been a few minutes.

I hear a child cry off in the distance. I turn my head to check and realize that it can’t be mine. My little girl is asleep on an operating table. I sneak a quick look at my husband hoping he didn’t see that I looked.

A lump forms in my throat and I hold back the tears I feel coming on again. I write to distract because it is my therapy. Worried and hopeful faces are all around this room as we silently smile in acknowledgement of what we are all waiting for.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Hours.

The pager goes off.

Writing truly is my therapy. This was one of the scariest and most stressful experiences of my life. I am thankful for a VERY good doctors and specialist. Our daughter was diagnosed with kidney reflux a couple of years ago. This can be maintained with minimal daily antibiotics until a child outgrows it. Due to infections breaking through the meds, our specialist advised this procedure that would help her reflux and help her kidneys avoid any future damage. The procedure went very well. We were also told she was not going to be one of the ones who would be outgrowing this condition due to what he had to do during the surgery.

Don’t miss the blog tomorrow where our hospital journey continues….

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I am so happy you are visiting my blog! Please sign up to receive the latest postings. It would be great if it's not just my family following along (yes... family you are important, but you are kind of obligated). Lots of fun thoughts and adventures will be going on! Best part is, you don't have to be 40 to enjoy it.

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