Ok, I can be more specific than that. Two years ago on September 19th I kissed my darlings goodbye and embarked on two days of uncontrollable tears. It was the beginning of my 2 1/2 month hospitalization and I didn’t know if I had the endurance to do it. Since we already know the end of the story, I lived through it, and it really wasn’t that bad. I’d do it again in an instant for my little twinnies. We all sacrificed to get the babies here safely, and I’m especially proud of my husband and children for their willingness to sacrifice the normalcy of their lives in order to add to our family by 2. After the first week, my incarceration got much easier, and after a few weeks, this is what I found:
I knew I had been inpatient WAY too long when…
1. I knew the housekeeper by name, she knew mine, but most importantly, she knew the boys names.
2. I had had EVERY nurse in the department at least 2-3 times.
3. The day the cafeteria forgot my yogurt I was MAD. The day they forgot to send my breakfast,I cried. The day the cafeteria forgot to send my breakfast AND lunch I was ready to go home.
4. I was better at putting the babies on the monitors than most of the nurses.
5. Taking a shower was THE highlight of my morning and the day a nurse didn’t change my sheets while I showered was the day I almost lost it.
6. The nurses knew my babies by name, rather than baby A or B.
7. I had a schedule that I strictly adhered to. When things didn’t go as planned I had to remind myself it was OK.
8. When my son cried when it was time to go. I thought he was finally showing that he missed me. Then I realized he was crying because he wanted to take home a stuffed bear.