Kate was admitted to the Pediatric ICU, where specially trained nurses can monitor her at all times and where she's subjected to an IV, feeding tube, oxygen mask, and countless breathing treatments. Ryan and I have been blessed with an outpouring of friends and family offering support, meals, and child care. Strange, but no one has offered to clean our bathroom yet. Any takers? No? Well, I guess I can task that to my sister, who will be here tomorrow afternoon. (I can't wait!!)
Each night when I get home I resist the urge to break out the cleaning supplies. Sleep is more important than a mopped floor, I tell myself. But sleep doesn't come easily and a dirty house still irks me, despite the fact that my cleanliness standards have decreased significantly with the birth of each child. It's really not that I'm a clean freak. It's that I need something to distract me from the heartbreak of leaving Kate alone at the hospital, from coming home with empty arms.
Now we're just biding our time until she is strong enough to breathe on her own and all her"numbers" are at the right level. Then she'll be moved out to the floor, where Ryan or I will have to be with her 24 hours a day until she's well enough to come home.Until then I am aching to hold her without the awkwardness of tubes and contraptions. I am angry at this virus that has robbed me of her newborn-ness, especially since she is my last baby and I intended to hold her non-stop as only a newborn will allow. But as the doctors and nurses keep reminding me, you can't rush RSV. There is no antibiotic or shot or drug that can speed up recovery. So for now we wait, and we pray, and when we can finally hold her again, we'll hold on tight.
