lack of sleep | And 2 Makes Crazy

After my son made his way out of his coma and ICU and out of the hospital…eventually…we were absolutely fearful to bring him home.

After all, we had gotten so used to a monitors and alarms and, well, basically being intubated to keep him breathing.

When you have a child that is high risk of dying and breathing and everything in between, and then you get to bring him home to live—you fear life as much as death.

And you don’t know how to watch your child and keep them alive.

You don’t know how to make them breathe. You don’t know how to parent your child. And you lose an awful lot of sleep.

You don’t sleep because you fear your child won’t make it through the night. And then your child does—but that also means your opportunity for sleep is gone because now a new day has dawned.

My husband and I love God but lived in the reality that God gave us our baby and we were to use wisdom and discernment in watching this precious gift in our lives.

So, how did we manage to sleep in peace while making sure we were doing our best to monitor our baby through the night?

We bought a sleep apnea pad.

Yes. It cost a fortune. An absolute fortune. And it was worth every penny. The constant beeping (the sound we chose) allowed me to actually close my eyes and sleep at night, knowing that the beep was a good thing. The alarm was a bad thing.

Well, unless you forgot to turn off the machine when you lifted your child out of bed. Then the alarm was just an alarm. Many chuckles came about from forgetfulness.

Whether this product is worth its weight in gold or not—I no longer have to live through to determine that. My 3 are safely alive and breathing and past the devastating “stage” or risk of SIDS. But if they weren’t, and I was raising Max all over again as an infant, I would most likely be the mom to invest in one of these.

Simply for a peaceful night of sleep. Even as little as I might get. Every minute is, well, just that. At least a minute.

Here’s the link in case you want to check it out for yourself:

The smart baby sock

Pain. It was shooting down my leg with each step that I took. In fact, the nodule that I felt pulsated with just that. Pain.

I was certain something had gone terribly wrong. And I was scared about the future…Would they have to put me back under the knife?

Did I split my internal sutures open?

Did I get a hernia?

What happened and how would it be remedied?

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

That’s it. I have to call my husband first. Then the doctor next.

Ring. Ring.

“Rich. Rich! I did it. I got a hernia. Or I split my sutures open. Something happened. There is a knot under my skin!”

My poor husband got off the phone and came home. After all, it was to the day two weeks after my C-Section, and he was just as certain as I. Something happened to me.

Good grief!

Now. Let me tell you what happened the day before.

The day before, I had been stuck in the bathroom nearly the entire day. Food did not sit right with me. And to round up an already miserable day, the entire evening into the wee morning hours, I had been back in the bathroom. Because this time the food was coming up.

I moaned all night, writhing in pain.

“Richard! Call my parents. Get them over here, quick! I need to go to the emergency room!”

Okay. Okay. I am a bit of a drama queen. My husband realizes this. So, needless to say, he ran around getting me puke buckets and cleaning up after me, but he did not call my parents nor run me to the emergency room.

Now it was the next day and something—who knows what—was protruding from under my skin, on my right side, right above my incision.

Lord have mercy!

And then I called the doctor’s office.

“Hello! Hello! Can you get me in? What’s that? What’s the problem? I’ve split my sutures! Or I got a hernia! Help!!!!”

“What’s that? You can get me in to see the Nurse Practitioner? Heavens no! This is too serious. A doctor it must be!”

And, so, much to their amusement, they got me in for the very next day—bright and early the next morning.

Of course, we did not end the phone conversation without me asking WHAT SYMPTOMS I should pay attention to. You know, just in case the world turned upside down and it got worse.

Like I said—I am a bit of a drama queen.

And then I did what most of us do. I went online and got my PhD at Google University. And I told my husband that it advised I lie down and stay still. And, of course, I spouted all sorts of knowledge (that I had just acquired). But I still knew it all and prepared for the worst.

My poor husband. He was now guilt ridden (believe me, it was not my intention). He had actually LEFT me alone and GONE to work.

Home.

Alone.

With a newborn.

And a 1-year-old. A 30-pound 1-year-old.

His poor wife. He had caused this great pain upon her. How DARE he go off to work, right?

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch!

And I just prayed to the good Lord above that all would end well. At this point, not only am I a drama queen but my hypochondria is also kicking in. And when my hypochondria kicks in, my mind refuses to shut off.

Get me a cool cloth, cover my eyes, and let me lie down, folks! It’s enough that I have to wait until TOMORROW to find out my fate.

But, before we know it, tomorrow rolls around. We get our 3 kids out the door (that’s a small miracle in itself since the last time we tried to take 3 kids somewhere, we left without 1—whoops. To be fair, it was our first time out as a family of five), we drop our daughter off uber early at school. Thankfully Uncle Casey is there with his kids. So she goes and hangs with her cousins.

Now it’s only the 1-year-old, the newborn, the baby daddy, and me—the unfortunate patient of imminent doom—in the car. And we’re heading with heavy minds and hearts to the doctor’s office.

We make it to the doctor’s office. The doctor, by the way, is a year younger than my husband and 9 months younger than I. And, yes, this is the doctor that cut us open. So, here we are at the doctor’s office expecting the worst.

My husband has great pity on me. He feels so bad that I gave him a baby for his birthday and, as a repayment, I have to go back under the knife to correct something that has gone terribly wrong.

I feel great pains accompanied with great fear that “Oh no” I have to go under the knife again.

And the doctor. He confirms it all for us.

He confirms that, “Yes. I feel that nodule…”

Here’s the kicker.

“…But you are fine.”

Say what, young man?!

Well, as our baby doctor explains, it turns out that my “split sutures or hernia” is actually sutures—not split but stable. In fact, the nodule I feel is the “knot” that is keeping all of the sutures tied together.

And the reason I probably feel it is because I have lost some baby weight. Or perhaps it is just the first time I felt it, after all, I hadn’t spent much time poking around at my sensitive belly.

The reason it probably aches especially is because I spent the entire night before puking my guts out, pulling at my sutures, and causing tummy pains.

Woe to me for…well, I guess for no big reason.

Mind over matter, folks!

I felt something and my mind went to town. I Googled everything that could possibly have gone wrong—and I began to “live” everything that I read.

Isn’t that how it works, often, in our lives? We “worry” about something that we have no control over. And then we let our minds take over and spin out of control.

I am not going to be naive that say “Don’t worry. Be happy.” Because, truthfully, something could have been quite wrong.

Problem was, I diagnosed myself and took a swan dive straight into the deep end.

What did we do once we found out I would be okay?

We laughed. And laughed. And laughed. We called our concerned family and they laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

And it seemed that once I heard I was going to be okay, the sharp, shooting pains slowly went away.

The ache of the night of puking—twas still there. After all, I did just have my stomach cut open 2 weeks earlier. But the pains that accompanied each step I took—yep. Gone. Just like that.

Ah, Brooke. Sometimes I have got to learn to not let my MIND take over.

As for my PhD at Google University, I really need to remember to, instead, go for a PhD at God’s University. After all, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7).

This sure sounds a lot nicer than constant stress and worry and sleeplessness that presents itself when I try to “diagnose” myself, eh?!

Ah well…All in a day and life of Brooke.

And, what do you know? Pain’s nearly gone. Knot is still there. And, mentally, well, that’s left up in the air. After all, I am the mom of a newborn.

Ciao for now. Have a great day and stay HEAD STRONG!