Life Lesson for My Little Men #6

So it has taken me a while to write about the first 72 hours of my boys lives.  For a while I have struggled to recall details with little to no success.  Truthfully, I was completely overwhelmed with the entire experience and so details kind of went out the window.  Upon reflection, what I remember is the amazing caring people that we met during our stay at the hospital.  Like many professionals who spend their lives doing what appears to be the impossible, I am sure that they have done all of the things that were done for us countless times and so they have perfected it, however, to me, the response of the health care system and the people at Sunnybrook hospital was everything needed and more.  There we were, 7 weeks before we anticipated being at the hospital, wide eyed and completely in shock.  

In moments when you are overwhelmed it is often next to impossible to think clearly about what is going on around you.  You feel that you need answers but you have no idea what the questions even are.  The nurses, social workers, doctors, respiratory therapists, and others were wonderful in helping us through the first few days, giving us those answers, reassuring us that what we were feeling was normal, and helping to prepare us for the long journey ahead.  I know there are many ups and downs within our health care system here in Canada, but when it works like the NICU at Sunnybrook, you are truly left breathless by daily miracles that are performed.  During that first long weekend we felt ourselves trying desperately to find a routine, something that we could hang our hat on as being normal, good and steady.  While doing so was challenging it was not entirely impossible and the help of our family, friends and colleagues left us with hope that we could get through this.  

As that weekend passed, some things became easier to grasp.  They were getting great care, that was obvious.  We were finding time to eat and sleep and shower and such...mmm...normalcy...What was still very challenging though was leaving each night.  This is something that would slowly subside as we began to embrace our new found routine.  It would get harder again later as our boys began to grow and respond to us.  My thoughts on this are that for the first few days you hate to leave because you are so scared about what is to come and nearing the end you don't want to leave because it is clear things are getting better and you don't want to miss a thing.  It's a strange place to be that's for sure.  Getting back to some of my initial feelings, I think it is important that I express what I struggled with early on so that if anyone else finds themselves in a similar situation you can think back and find solace in the fact that you are not alone.  The hardest part for me and what ultimately drove me to tears was not being able to do anything.  

As a dad-to-be, you build yourself up as the ultimate protector of your family, a problem solver extraordinaire and willing to jump in front of anything to save the people you care about from pain or sorrow.  The reality of this situation is that you quickly realize that you are and cannot be any of those things.  It is painful to watch your little boys struggle for breath and only be able to hope that they catch on.  It is painful to see yet another IV stuck in their arm or to hear the scream as they search for a vein.  It is painful to watch things get better only to see them stumble and not have a hand in helping them back up.  And it is painful to sit, day after day, holding your wife's hand, reassuring each other it's going to be okay but knowing that you have no hand in that apart from waiting, hoping and loving.  Believe me, there were many long tear filled walks back to the car at night and many moments of going to get a coffee simply to escape.  

So a life lesson for my now at home little men who are almost double their size from 2 months ago is simply this:  there will be times when you will feel helpless, like you can't live up to your expectations or that you can't save a person that you love from the pain they are experiencing.  It is important at these times to be supportive, to do what you can and to patiently wait for better times, hope that they come quickly, and love that person/persons with all that you can.  You will hear the word miracle tossed around a lot in your life for things that are far from it (particularly around the sports world).  Try not to let this use of the word depreciate its value in your heart.  I know that from the day you were born that you were to be my little miracles and I can say looking back on those first few difficult days that a miracle is what I hoped for...and a miracle is what I received...for this your mother and I feel truly blessed.

Love Always, Dad