Pediatric Floor

Pediatric Floor

Memories.
So many, but in retrospect, so few.

Thank you
for listening to my "unloading",
the anger underneath
kept in check because you heard it.
You kept telling me how strong I was,
until I began to believe it.
You made me see my son with new eyes
by treating him so normally,
and also by letting me know that in some ways,
I was pretty lucky compared to some.

The 2 year old in the next bed,
with Down's Syndrome,
and terminal with a heart problem,
there to die.
Dad had committed suicide
not too long ago...
how horrible of me
to feel so lucky...

I'm sorry for the nastiness at times;
how angry I got when I had to convince each new nurse
that I did too know how to catheterize and pump the shunt.
I needed to be in control,
to feel like he was mine,
to take care of my own child.
That word, "bonding", so advertised,
so important, so hard to do
when one's baby is in the hospital
all the time with a bunch of nurses caring for him.

Thank you
for the time when I was
so discouraged and disgusted;
you encouraged me to ask the doctor
if I could take my baby home
while they got their heads together
with a decision about his care.
I learned an important lesson then,
realizing I did have a say about him,
and sometimes family time at home
was more important than the waiting game
played in the hospital.
We got to go home for the weekend,
and we were all sooo proud of me,
for speaking up at last!

Thank you
for welcoming me after he died,
to volunteer on the pediatric unit.
For teaching me that life does go on.
For understanding the need
I had to hold babies,
to be around those who knew my baby.
For allowing the tears,
and worrying about me.
For accepting my way of working it out.
I will always remember your kindness.
.