I have no idea of how many wings, sections, floors, specialties and on and on there are in the Children’s hospital. I know it’s a lot. Although for the amount of people in the greater Columbus area I bet it’s small.
I’m reflecting. Reliving. Seeing how far we’ve come. Different things stick out now- things I know I saw then, but almost looking through them. We were moved to B wing shortly after I got to Marley. Ashley our nurse walked us to our new room. It was an actual room, but I now know they had just a few for immunity compromised children. It had these huge sliding doors and the famed rainbow curtain that added privacy. The community bathroom was down the hall. Each time you walked out you would past some big isles with curtains drawn. Monitors in the background. Peeking out of the top you could see the rise of the baby beds. Rows and rows of them. Nurses attending a few here and there. But so many alone. Some had been there for years. Years. Life goes on. Parents go back to work. Siblings go to school. Nurses tend. I once overhead a doc calling a family for permission to do a procedure. I could tell he was leaving a voicemail. Another doc comes over and they said they can just sign it. It was overwhelming. Overwhelming and humbling. My husband took a full month off from work. Back and forth from the hospital trying to keep it normal at home and full support at the hospital. It was all so much, but we were so blessed that we could do that. We didn’t have to leave. Yet we were surrounded by so many alone. When one would cry it sometimes erupted into a cacophony of cries from most of them. I cried once there and said I just wanted to scoop them all up and hold as many as I could. Such a rough start for so many.
I even now think about those rows. Rows and rows in one small section of this very big hospital. I am reminded to thank each and every day for our blessings. I am prompted to give back- there are a few volunteers they said that just come in to hold the babies. Rock with them. At the time I melted a little each time I knew my body was going to plop back in the hard position of the glider. And these people do it even though they have nothing to get out of it. Well, I’m wrong- their heart is probably bigger than mine. They love bigger. I know at some point I’ll volunteer: I felt it in my soul and still do. Bays and bays of babies. It was real.
I’m reflecting. Reliving. Seeing how far we’ve come. Different things stick out now- things I know I saw then, but almost looking through them. We were moved to B wing shortly after I got to Marley. Ashley our nurse walked us to our new room. It was an actual room, but I now know they had just a few for immunity compromised children. It had these huge sliding doors and the famed rainbow curtain that added privacy. The community bathroom was down the hall. Each time you walked out you would past some big isles with curtains drawn. Monitors in the background. Peeking out of the top you could see the rise of the baby beds. Rows and rows of them. Nurses attending a few here and there. But so many alone. Some had been there for years. Years. Life goes on. Parents go back to work. Siblings go to school. Nurses tend. I once overhead a doc calling a family for permission to do a procedure. I could tell he was leaving a voicemail. Another doc comes over and they said they can just sign it. It was overwhelming. Overwhelming and humbling. My husband took a full month off from work. Back and forth from the hospital trying to keep it normal at home and full support at the hospital. It was all so much, but we were so blessed that we could do that. We didn’t have to leave. Yet we were surrounded by so many alone. When one would cry it sometimes erupted into a cacophony of cries from most of them. I cried once there and said I just wanted to scoop them all up and hold as many as I could. Such a rough start for so many.
I even now think about those rows. Rows and rows in one small section of this very big hospital. I am reminded to thank each and every day for our blessings. I am prompted to give back- there are a few volunteers they said that just come in to hold the babies. Rock with them. At the time I melted a little each time I knew my body was going to plop back in the hard position of the glider. And these people do it even though they have nothing to get out of it. Well, I’m wrong- their heart is probably bigger than mine. They love bigger. I know at some point I’ll volunteer: I felt it in my soul and still do. Bays and bays of babies. It was real.
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