I’m home from the hospital now. I got my first peek at my “new” breasts when my surgeon pulled the drains and changed the dressing in her clinic.
For the first time in years, I didn’t feel my chest drop down to my belly button, didn’t feel the tug on my shoulders. Even with the bruises and stitches now, my breasts look and, most importantly, feel so much better.
10:52 am: Surgery underwear and gown. The heat wasn’t turned on in my hospital room until just a moment ago, and it briefly snowed here in Stuttgart the other day, so, you know, it’s cold. I’m holding off on slipping into these bad boys until the last possible moment.
11:14 am: I just learned I will be wearing compression leg warmers, too. Equally as charming as the gown and gauze, I assure you.
Martin went with me this morning for more pre-op work before the surgery. I felt light-headed after they drew a LOT of blood, so he got me some cheese and bacon Brötchen. And then he translated and filled out all the hospital admission forms for me.
The last few times I sat in this floral waiting room, I was in a competition with zee other pregnant ladies to fill a cup in less than a minute. Remember those days? I returned to the clinic today to get a sonogram of my breasts in preparation for the surgery, which is less than a week away now. All is well. No concerns, I am healthy, and for that, I am relieved and grateful.
I can see a few new wrinkles on my face, and more silver in my mane. This month was brutal. I didn’t get in a single run and survived on shit convenience food as my focus zeroed in on my son, then the rest of the family, then work, then school, and then whatever else I needed to stack on top of my own wellbeing.
I slept for a few hours, but I woke up feeling energized at midnight. No surprise: I was supposed to start working an overnight shift this week, and had adjusted my sleep schedule to accommodate.
So I’m putting the energy to use, doing what I do when I feel like I have no control over anything … CLEAN. Sanitizing ALL the things: surfaces, toys, stuffed animals. Laundry. Ironing Martin‘s work suits. Staying busy.
Our baby boy is very sick. What seemed to be a typical chest cold very rapidly became something different this morning, and he’s now at the children’s hospital hooked up to oxygen, fluids, and antibiotics.
They’ve ruled out the flu, RSV, and asthma, but it’s obviously a lung infection and we are going to be here for at least a week as they figure out how to get him feeling better. He’s miserable. Meanwhile, my stomach and heart feel clamped in a vice. I birthed such beautiful, strong boys with such big, brave hearts … and sensitive lungs. Ughhhhhh…