Blogging by the Bedside 2

This time, I got me laptop. Easier to blog heartfelt words this way, than the tiny touchscreen letters of a cell phone.

Yeah. Heavy day for sure. I came in after work, full of emotion. Helplessness does seep in.
I shared some heartfelt words with him. Sorry...private. Read another chapter of 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone'. I sang "I'm Yours" again to him. Dunno why that seems to be his theme. It was the first song that popped into my head two weeks ago when I felt the urge to sing to him. I'm sure Jason Mraz did not intend for it to be a parent-preemie song, but the words work for me.

'I said you done done me, and you bet I felt it
I tried to be cool, but you're so hot that I melted'

Man that's how he makes me feel. Wow.

'I won't hesitate, no more
no more,
this is our fate,
I'm yours'

That's right buddy boy, your mom and I are so yours.

Okay, update. His 'blood gas' has been coming back "very good". That is good news. No infection. Clark also hasn't had a bradycardia episode since the intubation. Also good. Stubborn little guy didn't want any help breathing...but he had to succumb. Thought he could "do bad all by hisself'. Hm. Wonder if this is a challenge we'll repeatedly experience with him as he gets older. Heck, I still do it. Christy does it. It's hard feeling super human in a human body. The 'chip' seems to be resembling the 'old block'.

Feeling really antisocial today. Do not want to inflict my pain on any 'unsuspecting peoples'. But you can't help interacting with fellow PPs (Preemie Parents) here in the NICU , and truly, the one's we've bonded with so far have always been a delight to see. I got my spirits lifted a mite a little while ago in the 'Library', but I could not wait to stand, vigil, over my boy.

He's got an IV in each wrist. A central line below his left knee, traveling up his leg into his chest. A monitor on his right foot. The poor guy's appendages are currently unable for use. The intrusive intubation tube is down this gully along with thinner feeding tube. His eyes are covered. Though I imagine his nose must be singing a chorus of relief for not having that pesky CPAP device up his nostrils.

He's eliminating.

Okay we're all friends here...he's pooping. He definitely seems more relaxed. As relaxed as you can be, hooked up like a marionette. He'll twitch and fuss occasionally. Still feisty which is good to see.

And I can't help it...he just looks so beautiful.



His diaper will be changed in a bit. Looking forward to that.

I'm sitting by Clark, now. Looking at him. I just watched this evening's night nurse implement a tiny IV to his left hand and extract blood. It's funny. I used to be pretty queasy at the sight of blood. I think I got that from you, Mom! Dunno if it's all the horror movies I've absorbed. Or the desensitisation of what your eyes can stumble upon in mass media, but stuff I used to find gross, I now find gross with fascination.



When I was four. I was hit by a car. I snuck out of my backyard to have some naughty fun at the playground across the street. 'Look both ways before you cross the street', is what I was taught. Perhaps my young brain thought that the act of turning your head right and left was a universal signal to alert cars of your crossing. Or perhaps I didn't look at all, but I do remember the street being empty. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by people. An ambulance, the medics, the little girl in her softball uniform who I saw playing with her friends. My mother, standing over me. I don't remember feeling any pain or having any sort of repercussions from the event. Just phone calls from relatives who reminded me how silly I was for doing what I did. (Yeah, no shit guys!)
From my mother's point of view, I was found face up in a pool of blood. My mother, who I remember being unsettled by a fake wound on an actor I was working with, on an episode of Tales from the Crypt, even after she saw the make-up applied, knowing it was fake, could not handle the gore. She will tell you that seeing her son, crumpled from the impact of a car, somehow turned her stomach and her will...to iron!

I do not ever want to see Clark in any pain or misfortune. But I know that there is a new part of me now that will be strong for him if misfortune should ever arise. Strong like iron.