Sometimes we find ourselves pining for something lost, perhaps for something that never even was. It sneaks up on us, Jessica and I, and suddenly we realize that Namine is almost three years old. She is moving, she talking, she is more independent every day. Where is our little baby girl? She’s still small – she’ll always be small – but she’s not small anymore. She doesn’t have a baby face anymore; she has a grown up face, so it seems to us. Can’t we have our baby back?
I was going to post a bunch of pictures today and talk about my wonderful Father’s Day with my family, but that’s getting put on hold for a day. I might get around to it tonight even, but I want to talk about something more pressing on my mind than a good ol’ time. I’m going to talk about something uncomfortable. If you get offended, I’m sorry, but it must be said. I only ask that if you keep on reading, hear me out and give it some thought.
Tomorrow Jessica and I are going to be helping out our friend and neighbor Leah with the kids’ area at Polish Fest, down at the Summerfest grounds. We’ll be helping to set up the games and prizes, and assisting with running the games, crafts, and activities. This will be our second year helping out, and we’re really looking forward to it because we had a blast last year.
In following with the doctor’s permission to let Namine scoot around, scoot she did. And scoot, and scoot, and scoot. By bedtime, she was cranky – not so much because it was bedtime, I think, but because she was in pain. She is still in recovery, after all, and she still needs to take it easy. A little Motrin helped, and she fell asleep with relative ease.
I don’t imagine any of you who read Namine’s blog care for my tendency for long-windedness, so I’ll keep it short. Namine was allowed to come home on Saturday, which was a wonderful surprise. She still has needs medication for the pain, but she’s being quite a little trooper. She’s not allowed to move around until next week, so wish us luck in trying to keep her sitting still for a week.
If I had subtitles, it would probably be “The miracle that no doctor could have foreseen.” But I’ll get to that. I’m sitting in the parents’ lounge typing this up because I forgot my laptop. If I hadn’t, I would have posted much, much sooner, because pretty much all Namine is does is sleep. A much deserved sleep, I might add.
The nurse in the OR just called in to the waiting room to inform us that they finished the g-tube removal and fistula closure. She didn’t say exactly how it went, but we remain optimistic because it only took them about an hour and a half. And they got the IV in on the first try, which is also a good sign. Namine is an incredibly hard stick, and it usually takes two or three tries. I’ll post again once Namine’s hernia repair is done as well.
Namine has just been taken back into the operating room, so Jessica and I, along with Chyral and her boyfriend, have deposited ourselves into the waiting room. We expect to see more family before the day is out. (I was going to say “morning,” but it’s noon now.) We are told to expect about a three hour waiting period, but Dr. Arca will have a better idea once Namine is opened up so the hernia can be inspected at first hand.
A couple things might interfere with Namine’s scheduled surgery tomorrow, and for once, neither of them is sickness. Namine has remained pretty healthy – not even a cough or a sniffle – but complications at the hospital might make for a rescheduling or two.
When Namine was smaller – she’s still small, but this was a lifetime away, when she was still, shall we say, mechanically dependent – we had taken her to a local pizza place called Organ Piper Pizza. They have the most amazing pizza, and the atmosphere is, you eat amazing pizza to awesome organ music. (You can request songs!) We think she was around a year old at that point, but it’s hard to say. But anyway. Namine has always been attentive, aware of her surroundings, but she didn’t then care much for the lights and sounds. There was no real context to the experience, anyway; she didn’t eat pizza (or any real food, for that matter, still being dependent on the g-tube and every-three-hours liquid feeds) and did not care, really, for any noise. Today, however, was different.