I guess y'all could tell from my previous post I don't much care for hospitals. Beats me as to why soap operas feel the need to base their story lines on them. Personally I do not find all that green paint and stainless steel sexy in the least. I had days to look, but couldn't find one thing to fan the flames of desire...unless you count my desire to get the heck outta Dodge.
For the record, I didn't have a single doctor, much less an intern, try to talk me outta my non-slip socks or even think of enticing me into joining him in the supply closet. Maybe my "come hither" look was a bit too cock-eyed for their liking or maybe it was my peek-a-boo gown that
scarred scared them. That's okay y'all 'cause I didn't care much for their...ahem...bedside manner either. Besides, their hands were always cold and Eau de pHisoHex has never been my favorite manly scent. I'm more of a Lava and Old Spice gal myself!
The only good thing I found in being incarcerated for a week was the time it gave me to think. A girl can only sleep so much you know...even on pain meds.
|(Did I mention I only got decaf coffee in the mornings? Now I ask y'all...how's a girl to get in the mood for amour du jour without caffeine? Impossible to get the ol' blood roiling when there's no Starbucks flowing in the veins!)|
I've only been in the hospital for any length of time 3 times in my life. Twice when becoming a mother and once when having my remaining chance for further motherhood removed.
Be glad I'm not doing a
rant post on the cost of medical care nowadays. I'm pretty sure my three previous stays added together wouldn't be as much as a hospital stay is now. I wish I'd taken a photo of the sign in my room that read "We strive for very good care". Really? Whatever happened to excellent care? Also, what the heck is going on and why is the push for medical devices now the big deal? It's got me wondering how the heck folks survived anything 15 years ago! But like I said...I'm not going to get on a soapbox about it...for now! I'll just say between the insurance companies and medical product lobbyists tying the caregivers hands...well...you know.
Meanwhile back at the ranch...
|(Hard to believe that in two short days after this photo was taken Easter I would be sick as a dog!)|
like I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, becoming a mother was two of my stays.
I was young...very young...when I had the oldest melonhead. When I had him, I had never changed a diaper, much less even held a baby. I thought I didn't even like children.
(Factoid: His birthday was earlier this month. Second factoid: Both my of my children were delivered at 10 months! Jenn to the day.)
Lying in my bed at Baylor, I remembered the first time I was left alone with him. Me who hadn't ever held a baby...remember? Was I scared you ask?
You betcha. Pea green.
I sat there in a chair, him in my arms, scared as all get out to move...much less breathe...afraid I would wake him and not know what to do. For two hours I just sat there staring at this tiny creature, my heart pounding in my ears, trying not to cry when out of the blue...he smiled. Y'all know the smile I'm talking about. The one the nurses call gas, but I think differently. In my heart of hearts, I know those sweet, smirky smiles are the baby's response to angels whispering in its ear. God knew I was terrified beyond belief and I truly believe it was His way of letting Joey reassure me, in the only way he could, it was gonna be okay and he knew I'd never hurt him, but love him with all my heart.
It was the same with the Bella Mama. She was born green as grass due to MAS and had to stay in the NICU for a week. My OB/GYN, God love him, finagled it to where I wasn't released until she was. Again I was one scared mama, but for different reasons. I had to scrub up and don hospital duds just to go in and see her. The day I got to actually hold her? I can't even describe the joy I felt as I smiled through the tears at the wonder of her and her resiliency. Resiliency forged at her birth that would serve her well with the birth of Bella. God always at work at the details...even at the beginning of life.
(For all you young mothers out there who are wondering if you can possibly love a second child as much as your first...you can and will. Just when you get to thinking your heart couldn't possibly love any more...like the Grinch's, it grows 3 times with each child. Trust me on this one. It takes 3x's to hold all the love you feel for each and every baby and still it spills over!)
On the day we brought Jenn home, my little lucky charm was no longer the color of a four leaf clover, but was perfection in cream with strawberry hair. My but that baby was teeny tiny at 5 pounds. So small everyone but me was scared to touch her...even her daddy. Mother came and helped me the first week and even she was a little frightened of her so we made a deal. She'd take care of Joey and I'd take care of Jenn. Looking back and remembering, I know she got the short end of the stick, 'cause Oh Mylanta, he was quite the handful!
Which brings me 'round to my mother.
|(Open that can Helen 'cause what's a picnic without pork and beans?)|
My mother loved being in the hospital. Raising three rambunctious kids couldn't have been a picnic. For her, it was comparable to a trip to a spa. No kids to deal with, all her meals served in bed. No bathroom to clean. Waited on hand and foot and the center of attention. If we came to see her (which we did) fine, if not, why that was fine too. With all the books she could read while reclining in a bed that adjusted to her whim, she was content. What could be sweeter?
That was how she dealt with life. She took any given situation that was thrown at her and made the best of it. Even at the end, when finding the good seemed impossible...her heart and health deteriorating...she was still smiling. When we said goodbye for the last time, that smile is what I remember making the unbearable bearable,. That smile told us she knew there was a better world awaitin' and at the end of her life, she was happy with the knowledge she was loved and at peace with the life she had lived.
It's kinda like the oldest melonhead pointed out to me while I was
whining lamenting my incarceration. He reminded me of something I would tell them when they were growing up.
When life seems to cover you up in crap...start digging. With that much crap heaped up, there's bound to be a pony in there somewhere.
Law, but I hate it when my words come back to bite me in the butt, but I listened and I started digging.
And by golly...there it was...my little ponies.
|(A beautiful immigrant bridal trunk we just bought at an estate sale. Whaa...you think a little ol' thing like a leash and harness is gonna keep this ol' grey mare from a good sale? Think again y'all!)|
I was given time to reflect and remember precious memories. And if that wasn't enough, to date I've lost over 20 pounds...although this is not a diet plan I'd recommend to everyone.
But the time...oh yes...that I hope you are given and if not, take it anyway. Steal it if you have to. I won't tell.
I hope everyone reading this had the time yesterday to remember their own precious memories of motherhood and mothering. Write them down, frame them, carry them in your heart forever. These are the things that will sustain you when days are dark.
Why else would God give us the ability to forget the pain of childbirth, but remember the joy of being a big part of someone's life and they ours? Oh and for the record...it takes more than blood to be a mother. It takes unconditional love for others regardless of age or circumstance. That is mothering at it's best.
Happy Mother's Day...just a day late.
Now I think I'll go saddle up my unicorn!
~Hold her head up Ma. She's goin' to the barn!~Cat Daddy