Soul Vomit

As I sat down to wait for Foster to wake up to feed him, he was so calm and peaceful.


Then the young, student nurse comes in and rouses him awake by prodding and pulling and poking. She uses the wrong needle. He is SCREAMING, beat red after waking up to pain in his heel. The nurse has to prick him again. He gets upset ALL over again. She has to push on his heel to get the blood to come out – lots of pressure. Does she know what she is doing? I cringe.

No child should enter the world this way. And I feel responsible.

I sit there, helpless. I can’t get up to comfort him, the nurse is in the way. I can’t even get up because I just had major surgery 7 hours prior. I have tears just streaming down my face, at one point, I am sobbing. I HATE thinking that my child is starting out life with so much pain. Yes, in perspective, heel pricks on a scale of EVERYTHING else that could happen, are minimal, but no matter, it makes me bawl. It makes my son scream. It makes me think for just a second, I should never have brought broken children into this world.

Then, she hands him to me, all sweaty and upset. I soothe him, feed him and caress him.

Then as I’m looking over his body – exploring this little guy who just came out of my body, I notice that both hands are bruised and bloody. Looks as though someone tried to get his IV in – FOUR TIMES. My poor baby has war wounds and he hasn’t even been around for 1 full day. I get angry thinking that it was probably that same young student who didn’t know what she was doing. In my heart, I blame her.

I know I am being unfair.

My eyes are so swollen from crying, I’m sure it looks as though I have a deathly ill child.

I start to feel really sorry for myself – for what I am missing out on.

We are going down the EXACT same road we went on with Ruby and Lindy. I think to myself, I might as well not even try to nurse him because we all know that it doesn’t keep their blood sugars up – making them stay even longer. I’m confused. No one can tell me what I should do but history tells me to just give it up. Formula will just have to do.

I start to question whether or not God loves me or my children. Wondering if my prayers and those who are praying for us – if those just don’t work. It is not like we’ve only been praying TODAY. I’ve been praying EVERYDAY that God would spare him of all this pain – spare ME of all this pain. That God would give me something normal.

And we were SO CLOSE, or so I thought! We were teased. 3 FULL HOURS of holding him and snuggling him straight out of the womb. Yes, we were worried but I had so much hope! Maybe I did something right?!! We were gonna get away with him!

All the compliments from the staff. You must have had really good control of your diabetes – his size is perfect. He’s not too big. His sugars, your sugars are perfect. Me actually believing that it makes a difference.

And it doesn’t.

The NICU nurses come and I have to hand over my baby to them. Kiss him and tell him that I’ll come visit him as soon as I can force myself to stand up and get into a wheelchair.

And just 2 days ago, I was thinking about correcting my heart before I even got to this point. Finding joy in our trials. I am so far from that right now.

Add to the mix the fact that I think the 2 nurses from 10:00am until 11pm forgot about me.


I ordered a breast pump right after my surgery at 9am – after asking for it 5 times and at 3pm, someone finally brought me one. My catheter bag is full. Dinner wasn’t ordered for me for dinner. A nurse finally came around and gave me the tray from someone else who just left. Then somehow my “diabetic” meal showed up after that. The said meal trays are still leftover from dinner. No one has taken my vitals since post-op at 10am. When I asked the nurse when the last time I had them done, she accused me for being in the NICU. I haven’t seen a doctor since post-op at 10am. I am so much of a mess that Dale has to strip me down and wash me down because the nurse isn’t around to do it. The last time I took pain meds was 7 HOURS ago.

I am a hot mess. I am a selfish wreck. and maybe a tad bit emotional.

I hope tomorrow is a better day. If not, we’ve been down this road before.


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