Minimal really, when you tot up the myriad coulda-beens. Birdie was able to understand most of what was happening and why, so she appears to be the best off. I say "appears" because I want to watch for a while longer before I put a check mark by her name, and call it good.
LaLa has 100% regressed in the old PT. Don't really blame her, because while she had the best of care, by the best of folks... it was all non-routine, and hither and yon.
Then again, this morning while rummaging through her dresser, she found a pair of "Rhumba Pants," an item lovingly referred to as "Rumble Pants," here in Chaos. They are lacy and lovely. She wore them backward all day, I assume so she could admire the lace and the bow as she pulled them up and down. What mattered to me is that she WORE them all day. Dry.
It was rather encouraging.
Pearl. That's the really hard one. It's hard to know what to do, how to help... primarily because of her age, but also because of her personality. It was commented on by many people who know the Chaos Girls in person, that we were lucky that this happened with Pearl instead of one of the older girls. Birdie and LaLa are that breed of over-the-top crazy that would likely be ripping out IV lines, stripping off PulseOx monitors and generally raising bloody heck. I have to agree. Pearl is that mild and soft baby girl who does NOT pull on puppy ears. She is sweetness and genteel silence. She is a watcher. But because of these attributes I worry that this experience has driven her further into herself and made her fearful. Especially while she was IN the hospital she was introverted, silent and needing her mama at every moment. Except for those moments when she was sucked into the world of Baby Einstein Crack. It was because of Baby Einstein that I showered and ate meals. While I know on a certain level that she won't "remember" all that happened, she is not unchanged by it.
Home is better.
Being at home has given me back my laughing Pearl, my smiling and talking Pearl. Which, by the way... she came home from the Hospital with words for fish, cat, dog, ball, bubble, prayer, up, down, chick, cow, cracker. Today as I was reading some blogs, she came to my knee and said "up-up, mama!" Granted it sounded like "uh-uh, mama"... but we went up and down the elevators so many times, on our endless wagon rides through PCMC that I know "up" when I hear it.
We are easing back into our lives... except for sleep. She tends to wake up along the same schedule that she had been awoken by nurses taking "vitals" every night. She still must be rocked back to sleep each time.
Sadly.... the freak of the week is the mama. I feel like I am OK with a side order of screaming meemies. I am having nightmares of losing my children; both at night and odd visions of disaster while awake. I think it may take a while to wind down from it all.
Brief bullet point list of "It All."
- witnessing my child in pain
- witnessing my child screamingly afraid
- helping to hold down my child while they do something either painful or scary or both
- fear and uncertainty in my own heart
- witnessing the torture of my child via the sleep deprivation which is a side effect of nurses having to take a child's "vital stats" every four hours
- rocking my child back to sleep upward of six times during a 24 hour period of time
- trying to decide at what point I tell everyone to back OFF already
- trying to find a way to communicate with a new nursing staff every twelve hours to make sure that they see my baby girl as a baby girl, and not a "failing IV," G-Tube or a set of stats to be taken and recorded
- fighting with doctors to get her more relief than mere Benedryl and Tylenol
- trying to make sure that I don't become Mrs. Unreasonable or ThatMom
- fear and uncertainty
- boredom and loneliness
I think I'm done for the night.