It's wearing on him, as it is on me. His little body aches and he tires quickly. Unable to sleep soundly after months of intrusion. Hospitals aren't exactly conducive to sleep. This fact shouldn't be so surprising considering about nine months of Kiah's almost three years have been spent admitted to one hospital or another. From the beeping of the machines to the frequent blood draws and the continuous diaper changes it's surprising he sleeps at all. Now back at the Ronald McDonald house, he has become the interruption, calling out constantly in the night.
His muscles are weak, and his body tremors, unable to regulate it's own temperature. Daylight often finds him on the hip of a family member getting down only for energy bursts that are short lived. His temper wild, easily agitated, a side effect of the drugs overwhelming his tiny form. Sweet boy is all tuckered out and having difficulty managing his emotions. Welcome to the club lil guy… welcome to the club.
He misses home and asks about it often. It's proving more and more difficult explaining to my almost three year old all of what is going on, why we can't just pack up and go home, why we can't sleep in our own beds, why we can't see our family.
There is light though, in this darkness. We are making it through to the other side. Momma's sweet boy continues to grow stronger every second and I look so forward to the day the weight of this has lifted and it all becomes distant.
My eyes now heavy, I know that if I hope to get any sleep at all I better step over that Croc and crawl back in bed. Goodnight and Good morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment