There we were, very early on Saturday morning waiting in the surgical waiting room at St. Francis Hospital in Peoria. Yes, we were waiting for our baby to come out of surgery. The doctors had prepared us for a worse case scenario and best case scenario. Honestly, they did not seem to have a very promising outlook for our little boy. They kept asking permission to do various procedures on our baby. We kept saying what ever it takes, just make our baby better.
I cried the whole time he was in surgery, in a wheelchair, in the OR waiting room. I was shaking, I could not eat or drink. What was happening to us? This kind of thing does not happen to people like us? We don't have tragedies in our families. This is the stuff you see on TV or a made for TV movie, not my life, no way. It's all a dream...a nightmare.
I don't remember how long surgery was, but it was long enough. I know it started at about 8:00 in the morning. I was so relieved when the surgeon finally came out and got us. Matt and I and our parents crammed in a small conference room and we all listened intently on what the surgeon had to say. He said Jack tolerated surgery well and was getting ready to go back to the NICU. He told us what he found wasn't the best, but wasn't the worst either. He had to remove about half of Jack's small intestine and saw that some of his large intestine had been compromised as well. Our poor surgeon was drilled with questions from the six of us, but he was patient, and very good at explaining everything. He taught us about the amazing human body and how you could live with half of almost every organ.
However, he also told us that the next 72 hours would be crucial for Jack. It would be a waiting game. A very long, bedside vigil, waiting game. Jack was still very sick and critical. He was given an ostomy in surgery, where a small part of his intestine came out of his stomach so that his intestines could rest and heal. A broviac catheter, or central line, was placed in Jack's chest. He was going to need something more permanent than an IV to be given TPN, intravenous nutrition. He still had a replogle tube and many IV's, he even had an IV in his head for a while. He had to be given blood and was on a very high dose of pain medicine.
Our hearts were broken when we got back to the NICU to watch our son recover from surgery. He was so small to have gone through all that he did. His little face was so pained. But he was a red head like my husband and I both. That means he inherited some wonderful personality traits from his proud parents, like being stubborn and ornery. He was going to prove all of the doctors wrong. I knew it...I knew in my heart that he was going to be ok, he could do this. It was all in God's hands now. There was nothing we could do but wait and pray...and I have never prayed harder in my life!
Matt and I quickly became medical experts. We were constantly asking about his blood tests and X-Rays. Was he breathing over the vent yet? What was his white count? We were constantly asking questions and calling the nurses over to Jack's bed. We were always asking if "such and such" was normal and telling the nurses about changes that we saw in our baby.
We were now living in Peoria, out of a hotel as close to the hospital as we could get. When we left the hospital we always made sure the nurses knew where we were going and how to get a hold of us. Our cell phones were always on the loudest ringer and in our hands.
We went to rounds every morning, armed with tissues, where the doctors would tell us what was going on with our baby and what the plan for the day/week was. It was hard. The doctors were grim. I wanted to keep it together in front of the doctors so badly, but I couldn't. There were many, many tears shed between my husband and myself, but not in front of Jack, we had to be strong for him.
We constantly told Jack over, and over, and over again to be tough for us, be strong, that we loved him so very much. I kissed his hands every time I had to leave him so that I could "be there" in case he needed me. We were the only people he knew, the only voices, the only touches that were familiar to him. The only ones that loved him more than anything in the world even though he was only with us for a few short days.
Even though this was so hard and so scary for us, it was harder and scarier for our little baby boy who just wanted to be with his Mommy and Daddy, who was the enduring the fight of his life.
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