Paxon: Week 3

The week started off more promising. I only had a few nights left at the hotel before I was finally able to settle down at the Ronald McDonald House. As much as I would love to stay in the fluffy hotel beds for the rest of my life, I’m not sure how much longer I could fork out money for a Lyft four times a day so I could see Paxon at Deaconess.

After days of waiting to see if I was finally able to go to Ronald McDonald, the world seemed to still want to keep me away from that place. Being by myself in Spokane and not having many people I could ask to help me, I dumbly resorted to moving my stuff from the hotel to the house using a Lyft. When the driver came to the hotel, not only did he park across the street, he also didn’t help me with any of my bags. I remember the doctor saying something like “don’t lift more than 5lbs for the next 6 weeks”, but that rule was going to have to be broken. When I finally got to the Lyft, I found out the driver didn’t speak very good English and when I said “could you help me with my bags, I just had surgery” all I got in response was a confused look and my door opened for me when we made it to Ronald McDonald. The volunteers that showed me the ropes of the place were so sweet. When I got to my room, I was emotional for a moment when I saw all of the things they left in my room for Paxon when he gets out of the hospital. The little onesie that said “one day I’ll make history” was already a true statement for my little baby. It was already week three and I wasn’t feeling all that great with headaches, hot flashes and a painful incision, but I knew it was all going to be worth it for the little one still growing in the hospital. On September 13, Paxon finally broke 5 lbs! He was gaining almost 3/4 of an ounce every morning that they weighed him. It was amazing seeing all of the changes he was going through that he was supposed to be doing in my stomach. I was feeding him at 11:30 am and 5:30 pm every day. Every time he nursed, it was still taking a lot out of him and each visit was still only about an hour long. I was getting to a point where I could sit there all day and watch him sleep. This week was the first week I got to see him without a feeding tube in. Unfortunately, it was because he had pulled it out himself and they waited until the end of my visit to put it back in. At the end of my visit, he was always tired and ready to be swaddled again so he could sleep for another three hours. The nurse told me she could put the tube back in while I held him and I didn’t think anything of it. Watching her put it back in was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. He screamed like she was trying to kill him and I had never seen his neck seem so strong while he tried to get away. When she finally taped it in place and stopped touching him, I held him close and listened to him whimper a little bit before falling asleep again. Seeing the tears in his eyes and feeling him cling to me a little harder than normal broke my heart. I’m glad Micah wasn’t there to witness that. Again, I’m so glad he’s not going to remember this point of his life. I know people tell me not to, but it’s hard not to feel some kind of guilt that he had to go through all of this because my body is incapable of holding a baby full term.

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