A Gutteral Howl

I lost it the other night.

We had been told that Nathaniel would be able to come home with us on Thursday, 7/19. He had been recovering from the pneumonia that had wracked his little body since Thursday, 7/7, when his lung collapsed. They had reinflated the lung, but by Wednesday, 7/13, he had not made any progress in being able to wean down from the breathing machine.

They also noted that he had been losing blood due to natural attrition. Blood cells die after a period of time. He was not making enough blood cells to keep up with what is lost due to the natural blood cell life cycle.

They started a round of steroid treatments on Thursday, 7/14, that were to "kick start" his breathing and blood production. It worked. On Sunday, 7/17, the doctors told us that his breathing was sufficient to pull the breathing tube. His blood production picked up. Tuesday, 7/19, they told us he was looking so good that he would be able to go home on Thursday, 7/21.

Wednesday morning, 7/20, he developed an inguinal hernia. We were told no problem, fairly common in infants, docs had to deal with these all the time in newborns. He will be scheduled for surgery in 2 weeks. Hemophilia doc told us he would receive factor 8 (the blood clotting factor his little body doesn't make) infusions for 7 days prior to the surgery, and there wouldn't be any complications. We could still take him home.

On Wednesday afternoon, he spiked a fever. They took blood draws and realized he had a bacterial infection in his blood. The bacterial infection was caused by having been pricked, poked and IV'd so much that a bacteria got in. It is unrelated to the hemophilia, the pneumonia, and the hernia. The doctors came in around 9:00pm to tell Lesley what they had found, and to inform her that the treatment would be a minimum 7 day round of antibiotics given IV, which means that we would not be taking him home on Thursday. Lesley called me to tell me, because I was home with Jacob and Caitlin. We told each other that we loved each other and that we would make it through this, no matter what. We hung up.

Then I lost it.

My heart screamed at God. Inside, I was screaming things that I will never repeat in polite company. Anger. Frustration. Exhaustion. Loneliness. It all came out. A gutteral howl of pain.

About 1:00 in the morning, I wept myself to sleep.

The anger is still there. Deep down inside, I still feel it. I'm trying not to take it out on people, like lightening strikes. I find myself feeling angry everytime I pull into the hospital parking lot. I find myself wanting to blame people, the doctor who did the circumcision, the urologist who sent us home that first Sunday, the ER physicians who were trying to save his life but didn't even recognize that he needed blood, the doctors and nurses at the PICU, who have been nothing but excellent and supportive, but allowed my son to get an infection.

I find myself getting angry at the wonderful family and friends who want to support us. I want to howl, "LEAVE ME ALONE!!! You cannot possibly understand what this is like." I find myself wanting to howl at people who want to say comforting things that only sound hollow to me.

I'm just angry.

Is this grief?

I've lost the last 22 days of having my family together. I appreciate people trying to comfort me by telling me that my family is together in my heart. Bullshit. I want my family together in my home. My wife and I have not slept in the same house for 22 nights. We have not eaten supper together as a family for 22 days. We have not prayed together as a family for 22 days. We have not chilled in the living room watching Strawberry Shortcake while Jacob plays basketball on the fireplace for 22 days. I go 36 to 48 hours regularly without seeing my beautiful Jacob or Caitlin.

I'm tired. And I'm angry.

And right now, that's the best I can be.