Please bring her back!

10th June 2020 - Lucy and I arrived on the ward. We were given a room at the very end.  I was feeling so overwhelmed and struggling to hold it together for Lucy’s sake when one of the ward Sisters arrived.  She could clearly see that I was struggling and suggested a Student Nurse sit with Lucy while we had a "wee chat".  She didn’t really have anything to chat about but I was so grateful for those few minutes to just let it all out and compose myself before going back to Lucy.

Over the next few hours, Nurses popped in for this and that, dinner arrived and then the Surgeon, consent forms in hand. Lucy’s Surgeon is the kindest most gentle man. He immediately makes me feel safe and the fact that he performed Lucy’s first surgery was so comforting. We had a chat, signed the forms, talked about the risk of death and then he was gone. Just like that. I’m sure they don’t hang around long enough to make any emotional attachment on purpose!

Lucy and I spent the rest of the night playing games, facetiming daddy and then settling down for bed.  

Once she was asleep, I broke down. I sat in the dark, silently sobbing and wishing we were anywhere else in the world. Its a pain I don’t think I can do justice with words. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and that my own heart was actually breaking. I wanted to scoop her out of bed and run. Run as far away as I possibly could. I wanted to protect her with every part of my being.  But I couldn’t. So I sat at her bedside, head resting beside her, and watched her breathe, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last night I would spend with my baby girl.

The morning came all too soon and Lucy was first on the list for Surgery.  I spent time getting her washed, brushing her hair, and reading her Cinderella while telling her how much I loved her and that I was the luckiest mummy in the world. We put on some Disney music and we danced around the room. I didn’t care how heavy she was or how much my back hurt, those moments laughing, signing and dancing with her were all that mattered. Those moments are my post precious of memories.

I hope that she felt safe and couldn’t sense my pain.

I dressed her in her surgical gown and the Doctors came in to give her some light sedation. This was it. It was really happening. I sat with her as she started to get drowsy.  The medication was kicking in and she said some really funny stuff; she was like a wee drunk and it gave some light relief in that situation.  She was convinced she needed to pee every two minutes but because she was sedated, I had to carry her to the toilet and back and hold her up while she peed (or didn’t pee as the case may be).  Again though, I didn’t care because I would do anything for her.

When the trolley arrived, I carried her and placed her gently down. I held her hand all the way to theatre and while we waited outside for final checks to be carried out.  She was so far out of it by now but she kept trying to sit up, trying to look around at everything going on! Even in her sedated state, she was still a nosey wee sod. 

Parents were not allowed to accompany their child into theatre due to the restrictions and they don’t like to hang around too long waiting for you to say goodbye and so I kissed her head, told her how much I loved her, and asked the Anaesthetist to please bring her back to me and then she was gone.

I buckled. The Nurse put her arm around me, wanting to comfort me but not being able to (bloody covid). In reality, no one could comfort you in that moment anyway. 

I walked back to the ward in a trance. I messaged Adam to say she was away down and arranged to meet him in the restaurant.  I could have stayed in her room but Adam wasn’t allowed up and I certainly didn’t want to be alone.  I packed our stuff and left the ward without anyone saying anything else. It was as if we hadn’t been there and wouldn’t be coming back.