It was not a day that started like any other to us. Our family was getting up at the crack of dawn to take 6 month old Rhayn to the hospital. She was undergoing surgery to close her cleft palate. It was miserable for all involved because she was not allowed to eat after a certain time the night before. She was cranky, I was cranky, daddy was cranky, too. We all could have used an extra few hours of sleep.
So why do they make you check into the hospital at 6 am? Why can't surgeries be scheduled a little later (say 8 am?)
As we arrived and got settled in, they sent us back to the room that they would go over the procedure of her surgery in with us, before sweeping her away to be put under and sliced open. We dressed her in the little hospital gown, and tried very hard not to watch the tv.
Usually we would have been glued to the screen, glued to the horrors that were happening. Unable to tear our eyes away for a moment, as we watched the second plane hit. It was devastating. Yet we tried so hard to just pay attention to our beautiful little baby girl, who was about to go under the knife.
After a short wait the nurses and doctors came in, they talked to us. They told us it would take a while, and that as soon as she started to wake up we could come back to recovery. Then they left with our baby in their arms. It was hard- at that moment harder to watch than the horrors on tv.
We went downstairs to the cafeteria to get away from the televisions and to have a little bit of breakfast. It was a long wait, we wandered hallways, trying not to worry about our baby. Trying still not to watch everything unfolding on the television. It was disastrous. I couldn't have handled the thoughts anyway.
After an eternity we were able to see our little girl, and she was taken to her room (for an overnight stay.) We turned the tv on, but found some children's movies- cartoons. It was a horrific enough day for us all. We were able to sit and hold our child. She cuddled into us, still drugged. She looked so awful, and had splints on her arms to keep her from putting objects into her mouth. She couldn't suck for comfort, she couldn't have a bottle to calm down. It was hard.
Daddy had a class that he had to go to, so he left me alone with her for a few hours. I just held her, and marveled at her exquisiteness. Her- my child- my baby girl. I was so afraid for her, for us, for me...
It took me days before the horrors of September 11th sunk in. I Think it really took weeks, it wasn't until after Rhayn's splints came off, until she could have a bottle again, then it started to sink it.
The realization of what happened, it still haunts me. So many lives lost, so much evil done to our country in such a short while.
However, in the wake of our newest National disaster, I only can sit back and watch, and think- I am bringing another child into this world? What was I thinking? How can I do this to her? I mean she will never really have the naivete that I had as a child. She will never roam streets unhindered, because I will always be paranoid that something will happen to her, to her big sister.
I hate the way we live, there is no safety on the streets, there is no freedom in this Police state. I wish I could move to the middle of no where, live off the land, feel a sense of community- something. I don't even know my neighbors, I don't know what kind of people live next door.