I'm going to try my
best to recount the events of the last two weeks, but you'll have to forgive me
if there are gaps in the story. You'll see why in a moment.
The afternoon
following Aiden's surgery wasn't too bad as he was still somewhat out of it and
would fall asleep at random times for various amounts of time. He felt good
enough at one point to go for a golf cart ride around the neighborhood, so I
took that as a good sign. He wasn't having much as far as food or drink since
his throat was still so raw and I'm sure his stomach was probably full of
anesthesia medicine. That night was a little rocky for his sleep routine since
he had been out during surgery, some more that afternoon and he was still out
of sorts in general.
The next morning, I
took Alli to school before I headed to work while Mommy B stayed home with
Aiden to help him recover. From what she told me throughout the day, he was
doing awesome. He just wanted to play outside and have fun - so Mommy B took
him to the park that morning. He ran around and played just like he normally
does, and even though he didn't eat much of anything, he did ok with staying
hydrated. The biggest thing we were worried about was having to bring him back
to the hospital due to dehydration to get an IV, which is a common occurrence
after a T&A. Overall it seemed like he was full steam ahead on his road to
recovery, even though typical recovery time is anywhere from 10-14 days.
However, that night was another rough one as he was up constantly throughout
the night. We weren't sure what was causing him to wake up, but luckily it
wasn't too hard to get him back to sleep pretty quickly.
I stayed home with
Aiden on Wednesday and "worked from home" so Mommy B could take a
break and go back to work. Well, as luck would have it he was now feeling the
full effects of what had just happened to him two days earlier. He got up for
the day and could barely talk. He basically just mumbled and pointed to
everything he needed - which wasn't much. He wouldn't eat a thing, and would
barely touch and fluids I tried to coax him into drinking. His throat hurt so
bad that he wouldn’t even swallow his own spit. I spent the majority of the day
wiping drool from his lip and pulling saliva out of his mouth because he
wouldn't swallow it on his own. Not to mention he was also running a low-grade
fever. I tried explaining to him that the more he drank, the better he would
feel - even though it hurt. This also made the task of administering any
medicine darn near impossible. I kept trying to talk him into it, and he just
wouldn't even try. At one point in the afternoon I was so worried that his fever
would go even higher and we'd end up back in the hospital anyway, I pinned him
down and tried to get some medicine in his mouth… unsuccessfully. He spit it
all back out and became a blubbering mess. I was right back in the Operating
Room - but again I'll spare you the details.
Mommy B finally got
home from work and had picked up some fever-reducing suppositories on her way.
We concluded that the only way to get his fever down without him drinking
anything was going to have to be the hard way. So that night after we gave them
both baths, Mommy B did the dirty work and was able to get some medicine in
him. It definitely seemed to help, but he was still up a few times throughout
the night. I could be mistaken, but I believe this is when he started
complaining that his "belly hurt." We could only conclude that he was
probably still working some of the IV drugs through his system and he hadn't
really eaten anything of substance since Sunday night. So each time he woke up
throughout the night and complained about his belly hurting, we just told him
that he was probably hungry. He obviously didn't understand that part of it,
but managed to get a little sleep here and there.
Thursday Mommy B
stayed home with him again and I went back into the office. He did a little
better for her that day, but still wasn't eating anything. He did much better
for her with drinking, so that was good. She was able to get a little more
medicine in him that day to at least keep his fever at bay. After another night
of crappy sleep, Tatsy took over and stayed with him on Friday while I took
Alli to school. She was so cute - asking when Aiden was coming back to school
because she missed going into class with him. I even poked my had into Aiden's
class and told his teacher not to expect him back that week. All the kids asked
me where Aiden was and if he was feeling better yet. I told them that he was
definitely better, but wouldn't be back until the following week while he
healed up some more.
Memorial Day weekend
was finally upon us, and I was holding out that he would turn the corner that
weekend. The complaints about his belly hurting were becoming more frequent,
and they continued throughout the long weekend. The weather could not have been
any nicer in Charleston that weekend, and it killed us all to have to be cooped
up inside while Aiden healed. I think the person who wanted to be inside the
least was the poor kid himself. He was doing better during the day, but he
still wasn't eating a whole lot and hadn't had a bowel movement since the night
before his surgery. The weekend came and went without seeing any family and
barely making it outside to enjoy the weather. One day while Aiden was taking a
later afternoon nap, I grabbed Alli and took her to the pool. There was nobody
else there (since everyone and their Ohio mother were at the beach) so we
basically got to swim around all afternoon by ourselves. It was a nice change
of pace and I'm sure Alli appreciated getting out and about a little bit.
During this whole process, Aiden had been getting in the habit of not only
waking up in the middle of the night/morning, but also coming all the way
downstairs and wanting to get into our bed. Around this time, we let it happen
because the poor kid sounded like he was in serious pain and just wanted to be
next to his Mommy. As a result, I often found myself sleeping on the top bunk
of his bed and even taking a shower in the play/guest room bathroom so as not
to bug him and Mommy B using our master bathroom. Another sad side effect of
the last week is that the kid has lost a ton of weight. He was never that
chubby to begin with, and now he looked like skin and bone. We can see just
about all his ribs and his arms look like little noodles hanging off his torso.
It physically hurts me to see him like this, but I have to keep telling myself
that he'll put the weight back on soon and it'll all be a distant memory.
Monday night had
arrived and it was time to get back into the routine. We agreed that even
though he was only eating little bits here and there, he was acting well enough
during the day to go back to school. We were hoping that this would accomplish
a couple things - 1) get him back to his normal schedule, 2) get him playing
and active again so he wouldn't think about things as much, 3) hopefully get
his digestive system kick started. He had had a single bowel movement in a
about a week's time, so I'm sure there was more in there that needed to make an
exit. Well, since Mommy B had to get up early that morning and head to work, I
decided to get up with him throughout the night and try to get him back to
sleep on my own. After falling asleep at around 8pm, he woke up at 9:30pm,
12:30am, 2:30am, 5am, and was up for good at 7am. Each time he woke up crying
and writhing around in his bed in pain, complaining that his belly hurt. At
that point we tried to explain to him that he probably was stopped up and needed
to poop in order to feel better. Well, this wasn't happening in his mind… so
all I could do that night/morning was rub his back until he fell back asleep.
Even though we were all dragging that morning, I took them both to school on my
way to work. He was actually somewhat excited to get back to see his friends,
and they certainly were excited to see him. He was a little clingy at first,
but luckily his teacher was able to come over and peel him off me without too
much trouble.
The rest of the week
basically continued much the same way. He would do great at school, but would
still wake up 3-4 times per night complaining about his belly hurting. It felt
like we had a newborn in the house again, as everything became a blur and Mommy
B and I were too tired to do much else. Towards the end of the week, he was
finally eating somewhat normal portions again but still hadn't had a decent
bowel movement. At this point Mommy B and I were growing concerned that almost
2 weeks had come and gone and he basically had one small poop to show for it.
We were worried that his nightly troubles were because he was constipated and
had become too scared to try because of how much it would hurt. So Mommy B got
some laxatives to give him in hopes of softening things up so that it wouldn't
hurt so much to go. Well, they didn't work - at
all. I've never seen that happen before, to anyone. Here we were,
pumping this kid full of food and laxatives and nothing
was coming out. Mommy B and I just looked at each other and said "When he
needs to go, he'll go."
The weekend rolled
around and even though he still hadn't pooped, he seemed to be feeling much
better overall. We decided to spend Saturday morning at the beach before Alli
had a birthday party to attend that afternoon. On Sunday we spent most of the
late morning and early afternoon on my parents boat, taking the kids on their
first tube ride of the season. Due to the timing of it, by the time we got home
it was too late to try to get Aiden to take a nap… so we just let him ride it
out for the rest of the day in hopes that it would make him sleep through the
night for a change. He was extra cranky that evening - mostly because Mommy B
and I tried every tactic in the book to get him to try and sit on the toilet.
We failed miserably, and eventually made him so sad about the whole thing that
he cried himself to sleep on Mommy B's shoulder in the rocking chair at 7:30pm.
She was able to get him into bed without waking him up while I put Alli to bed.
Mommy B and I went to bed that night dreading what could lie before us that
night/morning as we tried to rest up for another week of work, even though she
had Monday off.
I rolled over at
about 5:45am and realized that I he hadn't woken me up at all. I quietly got
up, showered and began shaving when in walked Mommy B with Aiden in her arms.
He had slept from 7:30pm until 6:30am the next morning! It was the first time
he had slept all the way through the night in two full weeks! We couldn't
believe it, and couldn't believe how much better he was that morning. He had a
great day at school, and seemed to be just about back to his normal self -
except for the no-pooping thing. Mommy B and I were cautiously optimistic that
we'd get another full night of sleep since we had chalked up the night before
to him being completely exhausted. But, I was shocked this morning when he
didn't wake up until 6:45am - having slept a full night and never once
mentioning his belly hurting.
I think it's pretty
safe to assume that we're finally out of the woods. Knowing that we voluntarily
put ourselves through this hasn't helped the guilt-factor either. But, I'm
confident that the worst is behind us and Aiden is finally on the road to recovery.
He's eating like he used to (a.k.a. stealing most of my food in the mornings)
and back to his usual dirty "little brother" tricks with his sister.
The biggest moment I think was when he jumped into the water on Sunday and
began swimming around. I hadn't seen a smile on his face that big in what has
felt like forever. It truly brightened my heart to see my Mr. Smiles again. And
I will say that each night I've gone into his room to check on him before I go
to bed myself, his breathing has sounded much better.
I'm not going to
sugar-coat things - it's been two full weeks of hell.
We haven't slept much over the past two weeks, and couldn't be looking forward
to our upcoming vacation any more than we are. We've had to do things lately
that we thought we'd never have to do (like kick a small child out of our bed
or practically force feed him popsicles and ice cream), and things we thought
we'd never have to do again (like convince a small child that it's ok to use
the potty.) It hasn't helped that he's our "forever baby" and
probably milked the attention for all he could get, either. There have been
many tears shed in that time - some out of sadness but more out of frustration.
I don't like always being the "tough parent" and it made me the bad
guy on more than one occasion. There was a point when Dad-E was simply not
wanted and only Mommy B would do. Talk about feeling helpless… night after night, while Mommy B drug her tired butt
back upstairs to calm her sad child. But that all got washed away this morning
when he came down stairs, hopped into my arms and said "You're a good
daddy."
Aww, thanks Bubby.