My son was discharged from the hospital yesterday. The bleeding in his brain had subsided.
The bleeding in my heart continues.
As I went to pull the car around and wait for the attendant to push him out in a wheelchair, I was struck with deja vous so strong it knocked the wind out of me. I stood there leaning on the door of the car for a few minutes.
July 3, 1992 was my son's birthday. He was born at that very hospital. And when they released me, they wheeled me out with my newborn son. His father pulled the car around.
Yesterday they wheeled my son out. My precious 24 year-old son.
And the feelings I had in 1992 mirrored the feelings here in 2016 so precisely, I was at a loss.
I was filled with such strong love, no words are adequate. But I was also filled with fear. Fear that I was inadequate. How could I be trusted to care for this perfect new being? Danger at every turn. How could I have the emotional, physical and spiritual strength to be a mother?
And yes, I felt that yesterday. He was injured. But he was safe in the hospital. Nurses were tending to him. Doctors were giving there expert opinion. Volunteers were wheeling him to tests in a gurney. Housekeepers were changing his linens and giving him his blankets. People were taking his food order, bringing him his food. I was by his side, comforting him. Friends came by to hug him.
He said before we left, "I don't want to leave the hospital. I like being pampered."
I remember thinking that when I left the hospital 24 years ago almost to the day.
But it was more out of fear. I didn't want to leave the hospital and go out into the real world. Full of danger and uncertainty.
His father and I did not stay together. I raised my baby boy and his sister, 2 1/2 years older than him alone.
And that is how I felt yesterday. Alone. Afraid.
Sorry to give in to self pity. But one thing I really missed in the hospital was this blog. It is like talking to a friend.
However, on the bright side, I finally discovered how to utilize the wi-fi at the hospital. I posted on Facebook, asking for prayers for my son. And the love poured in immediately! My son is loved more than I imagined. And the support for me, his mother was overwhelming. I sobbed with each post I read.
And now, like a roller coaster ride that has come to an end, I am left with a rush of adrenaline, that has nowhere to go.
My son has a "traumatic brain injury". I read all the paperwork they sent home with us. Went over the cautions with him. But he is 24 years old. A grown man. With a girlfriend, a job, a life outside of the hospital. Outside of me. Outside of safety.
And I need my faith now then ever.
I am in my library office. It feels bittersweet to be back. As I rode the bus down, I kept my sunglasses on to hide the tears. I said a prayer and gave this all to God. I looked up in the sky, and I saw what looked like a cross.
And I could almost feel my heavenly father embrace me and tell me to trust. To let go. My son is still alive.
And so am I.
Happy Wednesday.
The bleeding in my heart continues.
As I went to pull the car around and wait for the attendant to push him out in a wheelchair, I was struck with deja vous so strong it knocked the wind out of me. I stood there leaning on the door of the car for a few minutes.
July 3, 1992 was my son's birthday. He was born at that very hospital. And when they released me, they wheeled me out with my newborn son. His father pulled the car around.
Yesterday they wheeled my son out. My precious 24 year-old son.
And the feelings I had in 1992 mirrored the feelings here in 2016 so precisely, I was at a loss.
I was filled with such strong love, no words are adequate. But I was also filled with fear. Fear that I was inadequate. How could I be trusted to care for this perfect new being? Danger at every turn. How could I have the emotional, physical and spiritual strength to be a mother?
And yes, I felt that yesterday. He was injured. But he was safe in the hospital. Nurses were tending to him. Doctors were giving there expert opinion. Volunteers were wheeling him to tests in a gurney. Housekeepers were changing his linens and giving him his blankets. People were taking his food order, bringing him his food. I was by his side, comforting him. Friends came by to hug him.
He said before we left, "I don't want to leave the hospital. I like being pampered."
I remember thinking that when I left the hospital 24 years ago almost to the day.
But it was more out of fear. I didn't want to leave the hospital and go out into the real world. Full of danger and uncertainty.
His father and I did not stay together. I raised my baby boy and his sister, 2 1/2 years older than him alone.
And that is how I felt yesterday. Alone. Afraid.
Sorry to give in to self pity. But one thing I really missed in the hospital was this blog. It is like talking to a friend.
However, on the bright side, I finally discovered how to utilize the wi-fi at the hospital. I posted on Facebook, asking for prayers for my son. And the love poured in immediately! My son is loved more than I imagined. And the support for me, his mother was overwhelming. I sobbed with each post I read.
And now, like a roller coaster ride that has come to an end, I am left with a rush of adrenaline, that has nowhere to go.
My son has a "traumatic brain injury". I read all the paperwork they sent home with us. Went over the cautions with him. But he is 24 years old. A grown man. With a girlfriend, a job, a life outside of the hospital. Outside of me. Outside of safety.
And I need my faith now then ever.
I am in my library office. It feels bittersweet to be back. As I rode the bus down, I kept my sunglasses on to hide the tears. I said a prayer and gave this all to God. I looked up in the sky, and I saw what looked like a cross.
And I could almost feel my heavenly father embrace me and tell me to trust. To let go. My son is still alive.
And so am I.
Happy Wednesday.
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