Monday, September 27, 2010

A Difficult Night

This is a difficult night for no other reason than my daughter is sleeping alone in a hospital with no family nearby. My wife is exhausted, pumping every three hours, forced to worry about transportation in the city when I go back to work because her mother won't drive in the city, and heart torn because with her release from the SDU (Special Delivery Unit) today she no longer is near Aurelia.

Add to that the guilt of trying to balance time we spend with Madison and the needs we have to sleep and be together as a couple by ourselves and there is no way that we escape all this emotionally unscathed. I've felt such a range of emotions tonight; anger, fear, worry, sadness, happiness, exasperation, joy, happy have all shown in my face, but I think I'm tortured most by how much the decisions of those around us dictate the care of our baby.

We will do all we can to be a part of the health care team for Aurelia and to make sure she knows us as her mom and dad, but even then we operate within the confines that the doctors and others around us allow. There is a mighty frustration in that limitation and I chafe under its restriction.


  1. My heart goes out to you. This must be unbelievably frustrating for you and Jillian. I can only imagine what you are experiencing and I recall how powerless I felt last summer. Keep on writing and talking. Your friends are here reading along with you. We wish we could be more helpful, but I hope that knowing we are here will allow you to unload some of the intense emotions that you are dealing with. I will be thinking of all of you today as you return to Gettysburg.

  2. All I can say is that I am hear, listening. I can only imagine how frustrating and helpless you feel. I think being able to vent about it is partially what allowed me to pick myself up at the end of each day and keep going. Sometimes imagining how you are going to make it to the end point feels impossible, but just getting through the day -- or the hour (depending on the day) -- is sometimes a good approach. You have so much on your plate, and it's OK that at times you feel overwhelmed. It's normal to feel guilty -- but I know you and Jillian are doing your absolute best, and that's all you can do.

    I think it's hard to conceptualize the demands of a special needs infant until you are in the situation -- and my heart really goes out to you. Keep talking and asking for help. And remember you and Jillian are stronger together than alone, so keep checking in with and supporting each other.

    Sending lots of love as you head back to Gettysburg today...