My husband, My hero - PART I

This thought has been on my mind a lot lately. This is the man who has been determined to run himself ragged taking on the kiddo's responsibilities that I can attempt to recuperate; and who picks up the shattered pieces of my heart when I work through heartache and confusion over the crazy stuff that has happened in the last couple weeks. There are so many examples that fit the title - but here's a start:


In the frightening and confusing blur of the first day we found ourselves down at Children's Hospital, there are many moments that I love about how the hubby responded and handled things, but the most note-worthy was the horrible ordeal of getting the first IV in our tiny, 9-day old baby boy. For more than an hour different doctors and nurses tried to find a vein that would work and hold the little catheter. Poor little Nathan had no idea what was going on and was constantly crying and screaming. My husband, although his own heart was broken, stood strong and stayed by our son's side the entire time; making "shoosing" noises in his ear to help try and calm him down. The whole memory still chokes me up and brings tears to my eyes....


My third night on the latest hospital stay, I had tentatively recovered from a total meltdown and was determined to get a much needed good (as possible in a hospital) night's sleep. Unfortunately the lights from my IV stand thingee were so bright they lit up the whole room. (Seriously, who designed those darn things?!) The husband sprang to my rescue and dug out some white tape from my dressing supplies; then proceeded to tear off little pieces and place them over the most-offending evil green light. When the white tape didn't dim the light enough, he switched to a thicker stretch tape that tapered the brightness considerably. My black pumping bra covered the display to complete the job.



After my appendectomy, I was left with a tube and abdominal drain that looked like a squeezable bulb. The concept was that the bulb created a suction that would pull out fluid. It would need to be emptied a couple of times a day or so into a cup and measured. My nurses took care of that lovely duty for the first couple of days, and then I was taught the procedure so that I would be confident and comfortable doing it once I was discharged. I was sure that the hubby wouldn't want to be within 10 feet of that liquid, and I can admit that even I was a bit squeamish at first! But he braved being handed the little cup and rinsing it out in my hospital sink. At home he was faithful to make sure that I was emptying and recording my levels every day. By the second week he'd stand by in our bathroom and even started making jokes that it looked like apple juice! Bleh! (Thanks for that one hubby!) LOL



I woke up from surgery to find my body much altered with a ton of pain to boot! The worst of it was the "side-stitch-from-hell" in my upper right chest. This excruciating pain made it difficult to even take a full breath. My nurses and doctors encouraged me to take walks as much as possible to help my body recover and get through any air bubbles, etc., faster. I will never forget watching my husband steady me with his big strong arms to help me sit on the edge of the bed - and then make me wait until he'd unhooked my catheter bag and found a place to hang it on the IV stand. (He never even once batted an eye at holding the bag of pee, or helping position the long tube in bed so that I felt comfortable and wasn't afraid of accidently yanking it out.)  He'd gently hoist me up and help guide me around the floor where my room was. I remember commenting on a facebook post that THAT was true romance!