Hospital.

So heres the deal.

The Hospital sucked. I mean, it was wonderful, but it sucked. They took fantastic care of Jake, but it is an adventure I hope to never experience again.

It was the suck. And when I say "the suck" I mean it pretty literally. I have never, ever been more grateful to be nursing my son. For a week, that is all that Jake did. Nurse. And then nurse again. And then a topper.

In the hospital it was how we survived. I climbed into his crib with him at night. I am glad to be short and little, for serious. I was in.the.crib. Getting out of the crib was a 20 minute process.

Get nipple out of mouth. Freeze.

Remove his arm from my body. Freeze.

Remove his leg from my body. Freeze.

Remove his IV tubes and his pulse ox wires from my body. Freeze.

Hang one leg out of crib. Freeze.

Realize that the crib is way high and I am way small. Freeze.

Do some sort of 007 move to swing my body down from crib silently. Freeze.

Raise side bar of crib. It was metal (think jail cell). It was loud. do it. Jake wakes up with a scream.

Restart entire process.

It was really rough. Not like cancer or he might die rough, but really the roughest thing that we have done yet sort of rough.

I am a planner. I let my kids determine their own schedules, but once they do I adhere to them like it is a religion. I admit to throwing a freak out fit in the hospital on Friday night.

I had gone to the nurses desk at 6. I told them that Jake was going to bed at 6:45 and asked if we could do whatever we needed to do either prior to that or after 9 pm or so once he was solidly asleep.

"Sure!". We did vitals. Seeing ones baby become stoic about getting poked and prodded produces a weird miasma of shame and pride, by the way. I was told that we were "done". I put him to bed, doing the crib/nurse/freeze routine.

At 7:15 two nurses came into the room. They flushed his IV, they took off his "no no" (new personal favorite term, it was what they called the brace that covered his IV) they TALKED. He woke up. He not only woke up, he woke up PISSED OFF. He was angry baby. Super angry baby.

One nurse said to me "Oh jeez, so sorry I bet you want to kill me" and I said.................."lets not talk about killing but how about you get out of the room right now. " She was all "does he want a bottle" and I was all "Seriously I'm avoiding eye contact with you for a reason get out of the room right now kthanksbye".

I started the nurse to sleep routine again. It took me an hour and a half..........then the metal crib side noise woke him up again. I can take a lot. I really can. I could not take that. I was spent. I was nursed out. Jake probably nursed for about 8 or 9 hours that day (not exaggerating) and was held by me or slept on me for the reminder of our daylight hours. My body ached. My back hurt. My breasts hurt. My personality was lagging. Everything was effed up. I left the room. I left my angry mad cast armed Napoleon yelling like a banshee in his crib and I walked up to the nurses station. I used big girl words. I did not curse. I only cried a little bit. I conveyed my frustration. I told them that I was so frustrated, that I felt as though my baby was being so disrespected (a sick child needs SLEEP! This is not a teaching moment for a new nurse! ((Which is what happened)). I was proactive!). I then told them that that was my baby crying, he was safe, and I needed to walk away.

I walked out of the unit, into the bathroom, fell to my knees in tears, sobbed big loud sick cries, and promptly threw up about a million times.

I was spent. I was nursed out. I was PISSED.

I truly believe that we as mothers can lift cars when we need to. We can stop fires. We can and do do whatever our babies need us to do.

I also believe that having that power stripped from us is very very difficult. I know my baby. I know what he needs. I was usurped by "teaching" ~ And it made me a freak.

I am the first in line to be compliant when it helps me or my child. I am also the first to speak up at what is nothing short of anti-health policy. While I was and remain grateful for the care we received, I channeled my inner MAMA BEAR in that hospital.

The line between vulnerable patient and in charge Mother was never more clear to me than it was that night.