Thirtysomething

Fifteen Days

I spent every day between June 12th and June 26th at the hospital. There were days I didn't go to work at all, sometimes getting to the hospital around 7 am, and usually not leaving until the following 2am or so. For the days I did go to work, I would come home afterward, change my clothes, then go to the hospital and stay there until wee hours of the morning. It was exhausting. Fifteen days doesn't sound like a long time, but it felt like forever. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat much, I didn't really have a husband (he literally lived at the hospital), all household chores and visits to the gym were virtually suspended. Actually, I usually counted the walk to the hospital, which I did at least twice a day, but sometimes 3 or 4 times a day, as a workout. The only real time I spent at home was cooking meals to bring back to the hospital. Exhausting as it was, I would do the same thing all over again.

There are reminders of those 15 days all over the place. Last week, I removed seven McDonald's receipts from my wallet. McDonald's is the only "restaurant" at the hospital. We went there nearly every day--in the beginning to eat dinner, but over time, it was just to grab coffee, or a large order of fries at 2a.m. I have visitor passes stuck to virtually every piece of outwear I own (the hospital was freezing). They have day passes and evening passes, and I inevitably wound up getting one of each everyday. Not only do I find them stuck to all my clothes, but they're also folded up in jean pockets and in backpacks. I hardly ever used my gray backpack before. But it was easier to carry everything--the changes of clothes for my husband, the snacks, the extra fleece, the rosary beads-- in that backpack to and from the hospital.

Those 15 days were, hands down, the worst in my life--I saw some awful, awful things. In the midst of overwhelming sadness, I believe that some good comes from it. I learned a tremendous amount about people, including myself, and relationships. In that time, I became a real part of my husband's family and I learned I could be a functioning part of a family. I was constantly reminded of strength and endurance. We came to know the other families at the hospital and you celebrated other babies' victories and cried with other families about the bad things. I learned about the power of prayer and faith. I learned that hope can be stronger than medicine but that it can also be deceiving. I learned I could be unselfish. I saw myself as someone compassionate and empathic. I saw all dimensions of a mother's love: hope, despair, desperation, dreams, plans and heartbreak. I learned you could learn from someone who's two weeks old and you could love him more than you could possibly imagine.

As trite as it may sound, that baby made me want to be a better person. And instinctively I already know I am becoming that better person.

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 8:31 AM