You've been sleeping so well lately; through the night for most of the past two weeks. Something woke you up half an hour ago, though, and you're having trouble getting back to sleep.
Not a big deal, normally. But we're all supposed to be awake and out the door in two hours (or less) to get you to the Children's Hospital for an MRI. A seemingly small, "happens with a lot of girls and turn out to be benign," abnormality has led to a variety of tests that all came back in the grey area for diagnosis. Now, they get serious in their search for a cause.
All you want right now is a big bottle of milk to help you get back to sleep, and I can't give you one. You'll be under general anesthesia for the MRI and have to have an empty tummy. We tried to fill you up with lots of food for dinner, even an extra snack after bath. But none of that matters to you right now. So, we'll sit here rocking, until the alarm goes off telling us it's time to get up and head toward the Ambulatory Care Unit at Sydney Children's Hospital, where my semi-controlled anxiety over all of this is sure to erupt into all out stress.
Especially because I'll be tired, and you'll be hungry, and neither of us will be happy. I promise that when we get home tomorrow, we can snuggle with a big bottle of milk and as much Shaun the Sheep as you want.
I love you, little girl. Everything will be okay, I promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment