In which I start to lose it a little..

So since I was writing this lovely detailed account after the fact.. I thought I would do it in sections.. since Franky was home with us and it was just too crazy to write it while she was in the Special Care Nursery. And then.. all hell broke loose. In a manner of speaking. She started to lose weight this past Monday.. they gave us 24 hours to get her to gain.. she did.. we all cheered.. they said keep it up for the next 2 days and come back for a check.. we did.. she started throwing most of her food up.. and when we came back.. she had lost weight.. and off we went to the pediatric unit of WakeMed to be admitted... now I am sitting here in a room of NC Children's Hospital at UNC in Chapel Hill.. and I am starting to lose my motherly cool a little bit. I would love to tell you all the details of how we got here and why we are here and all of that jazz.. but if I don't write what is really going on in my head I am going to have a major meltdown and I can't afford to do that just now.

The short version of what is going on is that she is having trouble breathing.. thus isn't gaining weight.. failure to thrive for lack of a better term.. or FTT is why she was admitted. We are Chapel Hill because they are the best facility on the East Coast and she needs their expertise.

You know the worst part about being in a children's ward of a hospital..? The crying. The crying children who are in pain or being given a shot or just plain feel terrible so they cry.. and cry.. and you can hear them and it breaks my heart.. so I start crying... The staff are all so friendly and helpful.. kind.. patient... but yet I am here on the floor where they do mostly pulmonary and oncology .. in kids. Kids with cancer. All around. Next door. A toddler in the same sort of bed Frances is laying in. Bald.. with tubes running everywhere. Down the hall.. another bald teenager is pushing his IV...joking with some nurses. My baby doesn't have cancer. Praise the Lord my baby doesn't have cancer. I feel like I have no right to be emotional when Franky is not dealing with life threatening issues. So I smile and nod and tell the story of how we arrived here 65 times to various doctors and attendings .. nurses.. residents.. I can handle this I tell myself. No worries.. thank goodness we have a diagnosis and we just need to figure out how to treat it now. What she has is very common.. thank goodness! Take a deep breath and go pump some breastmilk because she will need to eat in an hour. And then I hear one of those kids cry and I just go to pieces inside. I want to run to their room and hold them tight until they calm down. Hold their mama's hand. Wanna know another thing that really sucks about being in the hospital with your two week old baby ...? You can't hold her unless you are right next to all the cords and wires coming off of her body.. you can't take her to snuggle on the fold out chair you are sleeping on.. you can't change her diaper without getting tangled in something that sets off an alarm. You can't crawl into bed with her.. you can't take her place. You can only watch.. and comfort.. and hum songs to her.. sing to her.. tell her how much her big sisters miss her.. how much you love her.. how everything is going to be ok..
I feel like I am handling this all pretty well.. but then Stephen goes home in the evening to spend some time with the girls and put them down to bed.. and I am here alone.. in the quiet of the room.. no doctors checking in.. no tests being run.. and I just want to go home. I just want to take her out of here and go home. I miss my girls.. I miss my Ada and my Margot.. this is not the way it was supposed to be. We were supposed to be home.. all together.. sleep deprived and cranky.. but happy and together.. well.. whole.. I want to go home.