Nothing is normal these days. Not really. Between viruses, “re-opening”, and civil rights protests…it often makes one wonder what’s going to happen next. And if anything would surprise us anymore.
So, we knew going to the hospital to have Ellyson that it wouldn’t be the same as when I had Emry or Ethan. Everything we would have need of, including the car seat, needed to be brought it. Because not even Ed was being allowed to leave until Elly and I were discharged. In fact, we couldn’t even leave the four walls and a bath of our room. And no visitors. Which meant Emry and Ethan would have to wait to meet their new sister until we got home.
Up front, that doesn’t seem too awful. I was disappointed Emry and Ethan couldn’t meet their sister at the hospital, but they didn’t know the difference. I packed snacks, two books, changes of clothes…there are worse things that 24-hours in a hospital room. Yeah…like 48 hours…or more like 50.
I don’t care how they advertise their comfortable, state-of-the-art rooms for new moms: they are not meant to be lived in for 50 hours straight. Now, we thought we would get out within 24 hours. After all, I was doing good and Elly looked fine. But the pediatrician from hell thought otherwise. She wouldn’t release us until Ellyson’s bilirubin levels were down. Which meant 24 hours turned into 36…which turned into 48….which equaled 50 before we finally got out of our hospital prison.
Perhaps I should not be so sour on the pediatrician, but it’s hard to like someone who waltzes into your room, pokes your newborn child, talks to you like you live on welfare with a third-grade education, won’t tell you anything straight, tells you no one can leave for another 12 hours, and then happily waltzes out as if she just handed you a million dollars. Because that’s what she was like. My OBGYN told me more about bilirubin, jaundice, and what the goal is in raising the levels than the pediatrician did. And she did so in a positive, comforting way. Which was good. Because I had already sat in the bed and cried when they hooked my new daughter into her own personal sauna, wondering what I had done wrong or could do to help her. Which, of course, was nothing but pray everything would turn out okay.
As you can see, the personal sauna thing was a little frightening. She didn’t mind glowing like an electric eel or the foam “glasses” to protect her eyes. But it was heartbreaking seeing her wrapped up like that, hoping her body would warm more and all her systems would kick into working order. Meanwhile, Ed was patiently going stark raving mad locked inside our room, and I was sorely wishing I had grabbed my work computer on the way out the door because I had hours of time on my hands and absolutely nothing profitable to accomplish. Even reading got boring.
By the 48 hour mark, Ellyson was doing very well and we were released! I felt like I had not seen the world in over a month. The grey, rainy sky. The fields of hay blowing in the wind. Even people wearing masks as they entered stores was a glorious sight. There was a world outside the hospital! And as crazy as that world has become, I was happy to be a part of it again.
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