We Did It

In the years that we have been giving mobiles to the PICU on the anniversary of C's illness, it's been my hubby that's done it. He's the one who has called H and J and L (our favorite pediatric critical care nurses) and taken in the mobile along with a card and a photo of A.

I've been back to the PICU twice. Once on May 23, 2003 (the day my dad died, as it happens), and once on September 15, 2003 to drop off some scarves I'd made for the nurses. After that September visit, I went to my first prenatal appointment with S and heard her heartbeat for the first time - but it took almost two hours to get my blood pressure to normal after the panic I felt walking through the PICU doors.

This year, we asked C if he wanted to deliver the mobile. He said sure. That he was open to it at all is a huge step. We planned to try it today, even though none of our favorite nurses were working at the time. It's school vacation week and we were planning to go into town anyway.

C backed off a little on wanting to go in today. I understand, but figured we needed to follow through, too. I just sensed this was a hurdle that needed to jumped. Just a little push. I reminded him that giving the mobile each year is less about him and more about the fabulous staff in the PICU and showing our appreciation. It's about brightening in a tiny way the days of the kids and families that are there and going through hard stuff. I also know how much it helps H and J and L to know there are kids on the other side of what they see every day - kids who are doing great. It helps them get through the awful stuff. (I hope we'll see them on the walk this year.)

So after a visit to the Aquarium, we went over to the hospital.

At the elevators, my heart raced when we pressed 6.

At the doors of the PICU, my husband called in, the doors opened and we stepped just a foot inside. I honestly don't know what I was feeling. I was near tears. My stomach was doing flip flops.

We were met by their current gatekeeper who barked at us about how the doors worked and how the kids had to be in the hall. She was just doing her job, I know - and her manner rather snapped me out of my anxiety - but goodness. All I can say about that. We sent the kids 2 feet away, but on the other side of the doors, and asked for the charge nurse. The gatekeeper seemed confused, looked at us like we were aliens and went to get her.

I looked around. It was the same, place of course. A little too familiar. Room 8, where C was for those weeks, was occupied, though a quick glance in that direction made it clear it was a fairly stable situation. Thank God. There were mobiles around.

The charge nurse came around the corner and I recognized her immediately. She was totally warm. She asked for C to come in, to see him. We talked briefly. She pointed out another of the docs that was there, one who worked on C during the code on that awful first day. I recognized a few others in passing. She said they love having pictures of the kids who have been through there and are now healthy and strong. She said they'd put this most recent picture in their conference room.

C played it cool. He played embarrassed. I'm pretty sure it was something else, but let it go. C hasn't been there since that May, 2003 visit.

The charge nurse wanted to see our other kids, too. She opened the doors and M and S were waiting. They smiled. S, of course, is totally clueless about what all this means. M's memory is cloudy.

We said once again how appreciative we are for the care C received there. I almost cried. C rolled his eyes at me. Then the charge nurse had to get back to work, and we had to get on our way to dinner.

It was an exchange, a scene that lasted all of five minutes, but it was momentous in a way. I didn't know if I could ever walk in there again, but I did.

I was especially proud of C walking in there. I wish he didn't think he always has to play that brave, cool dude. Maybe that will change someday. Meanwhile, I'm just glad we did it.