The life I lead

It has been a very long time since I have written. I started a couple of blogs throughout the process, but never had the time to finish them. I'll probably include part of them later on, but I think it is time to update as to my experience. I am returning from a visit home refreshed and rejuvenated. There is something so wonderful about being with the people you love, and just being "home". Before I start I am going to say it will probably be a very long, personal, and emotional write up. I knew it would be, which is a lot of the reason it has taken me so long to write it. So feel free to skip reading this one :)

I left for Hong Kong with a little girl mid October. She was going to have a very complicated and risky surgery to correct some serious congenital deformities, and I was to be her mommy as she did. I met her a couple of days before we left for Hong Kong, and was relieved that at least we got along well and she seemed to trust me right off. We then got on a flight and started our little adventure together, just the two of us. It has been a long, intense, emotional, and rewarding journey that isn't quite over yet. 

We arrived in the hospital after a long flight with my dear child adamantly apposed to the fasten seat belt sign, and had three days to establish our relationship before the true test started. That was more pressure than I had ever expected. A child that young needs security and routine to feel comfortable and safe. What ever she had had of that was entirely disrupted, and it was up to me to find it for her. Not only that, she was about to go through a very difficult surgery. I was informed by multiple people just how crucial it was I establish my authority and gain her trust before the surgery, or recovery would be nigh impossible. If you are unaware, that is a lot of pressure! Most parents have the child's life time to establish that relationship, and I was told it was crucial for her life and recovery to do it in three days.... Besides that, the area I had most trouble with was getting her to actually eat her meals. Needless to say her nutritional status was the priority before surgery. Getting a two year old to put more food in her mouth than thrown on the floor became my highest goal in life and my biggest failure when I didn't succeed. Somehow we managed to work through it. She brightened my life and won me over completely with her adorable smile and personality. I won't say she is a perfect angel, she is far too smart for that. She is extremely bright and has a delightful knack for figuring out how to manipulate people to get her way. I'll never forget the night I put her to bed and was sitting there hearing her sob about being in the crib. I looked at her and told her I knew she was fine and she was just faking it. She instantly stopped crying and started giggling, thrilled at her own ploys. It made me laugh, which just made her laugh more because there is little she loves more than joining in my humor. My laughter is all the affirmation she needs :) We have gown together and learned so much from each other, more than I ever expected.

After working through this process we had the actual surgery. That was a very very very long day. Since I am her guardian, I am the one responsible for her life. I was the one who had to sign all the waivers and acknowledgements and had to agree to put her life on the line. It was what I was there to do, but ultimately I was the one who signed the paper. I had to wait through that very long day, not having any idea how everything was going until she was once again in my arms. I can not fully do justice to the feelings I felt seeing her again and holding her sleeping stitched up body in my arms. I hadn't realized how upset and worried I was until she was back. I couldn't even feel relief. I couldn't feel anything really, because I was too busy feeling everything. I am not sure that I could make it make any sense, but that moment, sitting in her hospital bed with her wrapped up in my my arms because that is the only place she was content enough to sleep, looking down on her little exhausted face, I felt like I broke inside. I felt too much of everything to feel anything. I don't know if it was relief, love, happiness, rightness, fear, worry, concern, hope, it might have been all of them. I only knew it didn't matter because she was back where she was supposed to be, where she needed to be, right in my arms. I can only imagine parents sending their children off to hazardous situations have felt a very similar feeling. It was a moment I will never forget as long as I live.

Then started the very long recovery period. I spent pretty much the entire first night sitting in her bed and holding her in my arms so she could sleep. The following days were similar with more pain and pretty much ran together without much distinction between day or night, morning or evening. I slept and showered when I could and spent every moment concerned about her. I rarely left her bed and no longer saw the smile or any of the little girl I had come to love. The first day I saw her smile again, and later when she started to seem like herself were long awaited and hard won gifts. It was exhausting and stressful, and took more out of me than I thought possible. This was the blog I started somewhere in those days. I think after the second or third night.

"This is much harder than I could have imagined, and I thought I was prepared. It isn't the lack of sleep, missing people, being stuck in a hospital and constantly needed, or any of that. That is just as I expected, a lot of work and not fun. The part that is so hard is the pain, not mine, but hers, and not being able to do a thing to help. I spent hours holding her last night screaming and thrashing and looking to me to make it stop. She looked up into my eyes desperately shaking her head telling me no, she didn't like this pain and wanted it to stop. She was so confused! She didn't understand what she was feeling and why. She wanted me to hold her, but would push me away as soon as I did. She didn't know why I wouldn't make it go away. She is so bright! Every time she was hurting she would try to figure out the secret to make it stop. She would try turning every which way and pushing or pulling on everything, but nothing made it stop. What really got me was when she slapped me. She only did it twice, obviously trying one more method to see if maybe then I would stop hurting her. When it didn't change anything she immediately moved on to try something else.

There is such an emotional agony, you would have to experience it to know, in holding a child you love screaming in pain, looking to you for help, and not being able to do a thing.... Witnessing her terror, confusion, and pain, and only being able to hold her.. There were a couple of times throughout the day  I was almost in tears, and at one point, after over an hour with no relief in her distress and an hour longer before we could get any pain medication I was finally sobbing with her completely at a loss and unable to bear seeing her pain. The Italian woman with the her son in the bed next door has been my angel of mercy these past few days offering me assistance and comfort when ever possible. There is only so much she can do, but her support means so much. It also helps that the doctor who has been seeing to her care just as much as I do. It was interesting talking to him because not only does he make all of this possible with the volunteering of his work and fundraising for the hospital stay, but each of these children's care is extremely personal to him. He spends so much time trying to figure out what could possibly be best for them and what all he is able to do. Once he has seen to the initial surgery he continually checks up on their recovery. It is so clearly evident in his demeanor and care for the children that their recovery, health, and comfort are so important to him and he holds himself  responsible for each trial of their healing. As he said, he understands because he has seen all of these children come through and worries and cries more for each of them than I ever could. "

We made it through that some how, and day by day she became more herself and started to heal.  The healing itself is full of hazards and potential risks, but each day is more promising. She does not heal as well or as rapidly as most children, but she is managing. Unfortunately my visit home was scheduled right after this. She had just returned to herself and it was time to leave her. Another nurse came to stay with her the two weeks I was home, and she apparently was doing well the whole time. I have to say I was missing her and can not wait to see her and have a couple of amazing little girl hugs and kisses. The taxi ride after leaving her blowing me kisses and saying "bye bye!" had me questioning how feasible it would be to turn around and go home another time, after I was certain my baby girl didn't need me. 

Now that I am returning from home it is equally hard to leave behind those I love here, but I also can't wait to see my baby girl and give her all the presents I brought from home. I'll love and miss everyone at home, but I also love my baby girl. Leaving home is harder the second time because now I know what it is to miss everyone, but I can't wait for the feeling of finally returning to my baby girl.