Friday, September 14, 2012

Dear Diary

The drafts section of my blog is starting to read like a really tragic dear diary. Emotionally I am being tugged up and down routinely lately, and my instinct is often to start writing.
Most of the posts never get finished. Writing frantically for 15 minutes seems to help me sort through and rationalise some of what I am feeling at the time, and the posts generally get saved with the intention that I will come back and spell check/edit later.
Something always happens before 'later' arrives, and the strong emotions that I felt when writing a post tend to fizzle off, leaving me without enthusiasm for the original post.
48 hours ago, I got a phone call from the hospital at midnight, urging me to come in. They were concerned about Sebastian and were taking him to Westmead.

When I arrived at the hospital and saw my littlest and most delicate baby's ghostly white and lifeless form I went into hysterics. This was underscored by the hospital suggesting that if a babysitter could be found my husband should really join me at the hospital. The careful implications of the suggestion made it clear that there was a possibility that my son might not be with us much longer.
I can't even open the post that I typed out at 3am in the morning - the emotions raging through me at the time were so strong I don't feel like I can face them again.
48 hours later I'm at the other end of the spectrum. Wildly happy. He's stable. He doesn't have cancer. He won't need an operation. He has an infection which can be named, treated, and battled. Rota virus. It's serious in a premmie, but not so serious that he won't overcome it. He's in isolation, but the cheeky monkey is already responding to the antibiotics and spent a big chunk of today playing tongue poking games with me. I would swear he's playing with smiling too.





I never thought I would be so happy with the circumstances as they are today. I am so relieved he doesn't have cancer that I am confusingly happy he has Rota virus.
I'm happy to feel happy. I never want to feel the way I did 48 hours ago again. 

1 comment:

  1. Ahh seb love your photos. Brings tears to my eyes. Maybe soon I'll be able to hold you again in my arms. Get well little buddy we all love you.

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