As I wrote this first part, Sarah was blessedly still sleeping. She did wake up to nurse at 5:30 which is what I hoped would happen as our cutoff time was 6:00. At least I knew that she had a little bit of nourishment in her little tummy.
As it turned out, our morning greeted us with the first snowstorm of this winter season. Great. The drive to the University wasn't all that bad... a little slippery and blustery but Doug's a good, confident driver. When we arrived at the hospital, we asked for directions to where we should be and they sent us down a long hallway, turn right... whatever. We go to admit her and are told we need to be at the pediatric MRI area. Ok. Off we go, down the elevator, more hallways and turns. We arrive at the unit and are informed that we actually DID need to be where we were in the first place. I was doing alright but could feel the push of a cry-fest approaching. For the benefit of my daughter, I swallowed it down and head back the the original unit we were at. Again, we are told we are in the wrong place and in fact need to be in, a totally different area of this GIGANTIC hospital. My local friends and family know and understand how large and complicated the UofA is. I'm feeling slightly lost, frustrated and confused. A lovely older nurse guided us to the general vicinity of where we were to be. Once we asked another person, she also took us straight to the correct MRI unit. This took 30 minutes. Thankful that I'm pretty strict about arriving early.
Once we signed in, a nurse quickly administered some EMLA cream to Sarah's tiny hands. My daughter was less than impressed and tried to insist we take it off. About half an hour later, they took her vitals, I put cute little hospital jammies on her and knew that the time was coming. Sure enough, it was minutes later that they called me to the back, ready to anesthetize her. Because she was crying, Sarah's veins were nice and big (relatively speaking) for them to put the IV in. In a matter of a minute, she went from screaming and fighting to peacefully limp in my arms. I held it together. I did not cry. In the waiting room was Doug and my sister in law Melanie. It was so nice to have someone to talk to and pass the time by. I didn't want to leave the area because I insisted on staying close to Sarah.
It was only 25 minutes later when they told me she was awake. All I could hear was her tiny little voice saying "I nee' mom." I picked up my limp little girl and held her close. She was in my arms again. We waited the 20 minutes in the recovery room and were sent home. Sarah came out of the anesthesia wonderfully. We even stopped for a quick lunch on our way out and she has been chatty and happy all afternoon.
Notes I'd like to end this post with:
~ I am thankful for the nurses who are so passionate about their job. I felt like I mattered to them and that Sarah was just as important and special as the next kid.
~ I am glad that I like to be early.
~ I am blessed to have a mother in law who will lovingly watch my children while I am busy.
~ I am thankful that Doug's job allows him to be flexible. I couldn't have done today without him.
~ I have a wonderful aunt who offered to make supper for us tonight.
~ I'm grateful for all my friends who held me in prayer today. I believe that the fact that I didn't cry all morning is because of their prayers. Thank you.
Oh, dear...what a morning on top of an already difficult day. I am thankful you have the strong support system you have. It really does make the world of difference. (((Hugs)))
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