And then everything changed

Yesterday was an exhaustingly huge day. We got to the hospital two hours before her procedure and I stood in front of the parking meter for a good three minutes trying to calculate how long we would be there. Four hours was enough, but sometimes Eleanor's quick blood work check-ups take that long, so I plugged in six hours and hoped we would be out of there sooner. We watched the educational, "so-you're-going-to-be-cut-open" video and chatted with all the nurses. Because I would be with her til she fell asleep, I had to put on my Operating Room scrubs. This all took about 45 minutes, so then we waited. Alix and Jo were there as Henry was also getting his line out, but Henry is a year older and has no patience for bobblers. He also knows his limits and went down for a nap. Eleanor was all jacked up and excitable so my attempts to make her nap were not fruitful. At 12:40 (her scheduled operation time) her surgeon came in and briefed us. Then another hour passed. We were finally taken to the OR, and it was a little freaky. For Eleanor's last surgery, I think she was too young for me to come with her. The hospital has a policy about kids under a year... Hmmm... I don't really remember...

Anyway, we waited in the holding area and Eleanor was showing off and charming the pants off the other patients. The anesthesiologist confessed that he wasn't 100% comfortable working on a) a child so young and b) a child with such a checkered past of anesthesia, so he was bringing in back-up. He was so apologetic about Eleanor's condition, which always makes me uneasy. Please look at her before you apologize or try to make me feel better as she is pretty clearly awesome. I'm just saying...

Then we went through to the OR and there were a lot more people then the three or four I was anticipating. It looked like a car factory. I had been told that the procedure was really simple and at Children's they do it in the clinic, yet here we were in this giant room with tons of people and machines. Eleanor stayed nice and calm and I let her snuggle my arm while they administered the anesthetic into her line. She dropped off to sleep and I was quickly escorted out of the room, out of surgery and found myself back where we had started faster than I knew it. I quickly got changed and ran downstairs for a coffee. Whenever Eleanor is NPO I feel so guilty about eating or drinking so I often go without. But I'm free for twenty minutes so COFFEE!!!

And then everything changed.

As I was waiting in line and regaling all my adventures to Kris on the phone, I recognized the man in front of me. "Graeme?" He turned around and with a big smile and said, "we've got a boy". I paused for a second - of course you do - Spencer!! Spencer is a year older than Eleanor and started his battle with a brain tumour a few short months before our journey. Kris and I had become quite close to their family as Kris and Graeme were on the same work-3-days-hospital-4-days routine and Eleanor and Spencer took turns being the most barfy/complicated/adorable babies on the ward. The Tucks are basically a better version of ourselves, and we adore them. But then I realized what he was talking about. His beautiful wife had had their new baby!!! A brand new baby boy...

All of a sudden the vision of the scary OR disappeared. The memory of telemetry IV poles and sleepless pukey nights and death down the hall and all the horrible things that happen in the hospital disappeared and was replaced with LIFE. With LOVE. With sweet, newborn babies and warrior women and proud papas. Terrified screams turned to tiny baby mews. Harsh florescent light became sunlight behind closed curtains. All that is wrong in the world is suddenly right. Spencer is a big brother. Spencer, with his excellent prognosis, clean bill of health, long eyelashes and ladykiller grin, now has a baby brother.

I am so far beyond thrilled for them, I don't even care about Eleanor's surgery, I just want to run up and snuggle this new creature. I eventually regained composure and dutifully collected my distressed daughter. She immediately fell asleep in my arms and I gushed to to Alix about Jenn and the new baby. When E wakes up, I made a break for the mother babe ward. Seamus is an angel. He looks exactly like Spencer, and I am instantly overwhelmed. It's like seeing Spencer reborn, new and tiny and perfect.

Babies are so incredible.

I drag myself and my fussy baby away and return to my car. No parking ticket, but it was over six hours in the end. Eleanor slept hard and long. She slept for 13 hours overnight and has napped 3 times today.

Seamus's birth changed the whole day for me. It no longer was just about the end of treatment, it was about the transformation of the relationships we have forged. It was serendipitous that I ran into Graeme and that Henry was having his line removed the same day, but the whole experience left me sad - we will never again all be seeking refuge in each others rooms in 3B. We will never again all walk laps of the outside deck with a babe in arms and an IV pole in tow. We will never again trade stories over a late night cup of tea (or wine. Thanks Alix!). We will all go back to our respective corner of the island and live our lives. We will trade Facebook messages and hope that our long term follow up appointments coincide, but we will never again share those moments. Not with each other anyway. Maybe that's the way it is supposed to be, or maybe I'm totally wrong and we will all remain close. I don't know, and I don't know exactly how I feel, but I am definitely feeling it strongly.

Covered in feelings, my friend. Completely covered.