A recap of JR's hospital admission

I have been meaning to write about this but just haven’t had the time to sit down and do it. Since I'm sitting on standby with the ambulance and have nothing more than time on my hands, I thought I'd type this up to post tomorrow.

When Jonathon was in the hospital earlier this month, I had so many feelings resurface that I had tucked deep down within my soul. The last time I had to spent time in the hospital with one of the children overnight was when Jonathon was born. Those weeks in the NICU were difficult, physically and emotionally. Having those feelings resurface again were difficult for me.

I know I have written about the NICU experience previously and some of you have even been there as well. The unknown, uncertainty, lack of control and fear tend to take over no matter how hard you fight with your inner self to keep calm. Granted, this time around I did feel a tiny bit more at ease than I did during the NICU admissions but the emotions still took their hold on me.

As we spent our time tucked away on the fifth floor of the hospital, in our own little room, away from all of the other chaos that awaited us outside those doors, I couldn’t help but to be thankful for everything that we were blessed to have. One of the biggest blessings we counted was that of our five healthy children. Granted, Jonathon was admitted and we didn’t have the answers as to why but our admission was much different than most of the other children we saw there. In the hallways, we were face to face with other parents who stared into the eyes of some of the most amazing, brave children I have ever met.

During our last afternoon, we had the opportunity to spend some time with the dogs that they bring in for the patients to interact with. When we first arrived to play, a group of nurses were gathered around, signing a card. I heard one of them say that they were signing the card for a certain little boy. I thought to myself how caring these nurses are to take the time to make a card for this child. A moment later, they explained that he had passed away and they were making the card for the parents. This wasn’t a “Get Well” card. It was a “Sympathy” card. Instantly, my eyes welled up with tears.

We were joined by four other children and a few nurses from the pediatric floor. I couldn’t help but to feel guilty as I watched my son play catch with the dogs, throwing the ball down the hallway and calling them back to him. The other children were hooked to IV pumps, too weak to play, being held in their parent’s arms or sitting in a wheelchair. My observations led me to believe that these children were likely admitted due to a cancer diagnosis. Oh how my heart ached as I watched these children. Do they know how truly amazing they are or how many people they inspire?

More guilt washed over me as I sat there, remembering how many times I had thought to myself, “Can’t we just go home already?” I can’t imagine the weeks and months that these families had spent away from each other, tucked into a little room on the fifth floor of the hospital all while trying to win the fight of their life. Suddenly, all of my complaints seemed pointless.

Cherish the time you have with your children. Praise God when you have the comfort of knowing that they are happy, healthy and still home with you, even if they are driving you crazy at times. Some parents would give anything to have the chaos that we feel at times.

Be well...