Linda

Linda

I often looked at your picture
hanging in your baby's isolate
in the NICU, and thought how pretty you were.
I sometimes jiggled his little bed when the monitor went off.
I was horrified the first time - God!
I had just saved a life, me, a mere mother!
Pretty soon, I was just as casual as the nurses at "saving" lives.

I don't remember ever talking to you
in those days of Neonatal Intensive Care -
I don't remember much of anything during that time -
just the atmosphere of intense fear, shock and worry.
You were a veteran of 3 months by then,
and I was only there for 10 days.

Then we met again on Pediatrics -
both our babies were in for "shunt" surgery.
This time I was the veteran, it was my son's third or fourth time,
and I explained the system
and showed you the piece of plastic
they were going to put in our children's head.

You hated the Pediatric floor,
being used to the one-on-one care in NICU,
and I kept saying you couldn't expect that kind of care on this floor.
We watched out for each others babies -
reporting on the nurses to each other.
Remember Dan, the float?, who impressed us so,
and the silly mother who had the "billy baby"?
Just a "billy baby"? (bilirubin - when the baby is turning yellow and needs phototherapy)
She drove us nuts
with her silly worry
compared to OUR babies.

And Shawna, and Jenny, and Corey?
We met so many moms and their kids,
new ones each visit,
old ones from previous stays.
Keeping up with each other, and holding each other up.

One night  - we got silly, known as "hospitalitis",
a serious disease commonly caught by parents
who are sick and tired of BEING THERE.
We brought in a 6-pack of beer -
giggling like two school girls,
sneaking it in behind the nurses backs.
They probably would have joined us tho
and wrote it up as a "support measure".

Half a beer later, I went home,
leaving the care of my child to a drunk -
how were you gonna keep an eye on anything
in the state you were in?!
We learned how close we lived to each other,
less than a mile apart.
And for the next year, we survived together -
you with your baby, and me without mine.
Surviving each in our own way, but so much together.

You filled me in on missing memories of the NICU,
and I reassured you on shunts periodically.
You babysat at the drop of a hat for me,
and understood why I couldn't babysit yours.
I was okay as long as he wasn't sleeping!

I only hope that I helped you as much as you helped me.
All the dinners at your house,
and the lunches, your company,
even when it was bitchy was still better than my own.
If I couldn't cheer you up
then I felt perfectly comfortable getting bitchy too
and we were great company for each other.
That is the mark of true friendship...
being bitchy and still able to like each other.

Thank you for being my friend, and always being there.




2015 Extra Note - oh Linda... how much I love you and Rex.  I should get in touch.

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