On Thursday I handed my baby over to the nurse.
Her name was Kaitlin (not sure how she spelled it. So I’m spelling it my way.)
And she took my baby away from me.
He didn’t cry, I did my best not to.
His surgery lasted forever, taking over 3.5 hours. (I know, not really long at all.)
When he woke up, I got to go back to the wake up room, he was groggy.
High on morphine.
Last time he was so swollen, this time he was hardly puffy at all.
I wanted to hold him, but had to wait till we were in our room.
The first night was hell.
His oxygen levels would fall every time we took the blow by off his face.
He despised the nasal cannula and would rub his face on anything and everything to try and get it off, so then the nurse put the blow by on.
The warning bells rang every hour the first night.
His levels would drop, he would desat, the nurse would come in and we would reposition Arlo.
The whole night.
The next day Rich took care of Arlo and I got some sleep, it was glorious.
The second night was different.
Arlo blew multiple veins. His first IV stopped working, so they called the transport team (they do all the IV’s) and then he blew two in each foot, and one in his hand.
5 tries, one hour, and lots of screaming (and me nearly in tears) they finally got an IV in.
That night he was up every 4 hours, way better than the night before.
He got better, and then he got worse.
He puked and we were put in isolation.
It was terrible.
What had started out as a 3 day, maybe four, stay, turned into a six day stay.
It has been harder than last time, I feel like stretched to the limit.
But I also feel blessed, I feel loved, and I love the ones who have been with us through this whole process.
Thank you everyone who has prayed with us, for us, texted us, and kept us sane!