I awoke to the phone ringing and my body unwilling to move to answer it. " It's probably the oxygen people get up." I tried to motivate myself with that thought. No success. A quick glance out the window revealed a dreary morning soaked in drizzling rain. I felt the deep impulse to just lay in bed and neglect responsibility. A point of impossibility and laziness and perhaps one day I'll take a vacation and indulge that impulse. Today was definitely not that day. The phone rang again and I complied and reached for the phone. The ID read Mercy home care. Yes, it was the oxygen people.
The man on the phone wanted to bring the oxygen and give instructions and I told him that would be fine as long as I could be out the door by 9:45 for
Ronan's therapy session. He agreed he could be done in more than enough time. Why did I feel this ridiculous sinking feeling. "You don't want him to have oxygen". I analyzed the thought and then felt bad. Of course I want him to have oxygen it will help him and it's better than a
trach. "No you don't want him to that's why you avoided the phone call". Yes, I argue with myself at times. But it helps me to analyze my motives better.
I started thinking about all of this and I realized part of me was lazy. I didn't want another machine. I didn't want to have to keep the oxygen on
Ronan's nose while he'd be fighting me tooth and nail to keep it off. Another task like hearing aides and glasses. I don't want to battle him through the night. I want to sleep. After I acknowledged my own selfishness and laziness I moved onto the deeper emotions. It scared me. What if he strangles himself? What if the oxygen is really a bad thing and raises his c02 levels causing him to suddenly die like the
pulmonologist thought might occur? What if I set it up wrong? What if the tank explodes? If there is a fire do I need to push it outside before anything else? Yes, I was thinking all of those things as I fed Ronan breakfast.
The next thought I had about why I didn't want it was because I felt we were going backwards. It would have been one thing if Ronan came home from the NICU on oxygen because he was still progressing. He started on a vent then progressed to oxygen then slowly his oxygen was lowered and finally removed. Now at almost two he has to go back on. I allowed myself to analyze why I felt this way about everything and felt better. But I'm glad I didn't harbor all of this away and not acknowledge all of this was here. Once again I had engaged in the great mom debate full of decisions about the best thing for my children.
Ronan did not like his therapy session today. He was grumpy. All he wanted to do was swing and push the toy shopping cart up and down the hall. Every other activity suggestion was met with tears and him collapsing to the ground in frustration. The session was cut a little short and Ronan cried all the way out of the gym. We waited for our ride as he cried. My sister in-law was nice enough to act as our taxi today due to another long story.
As soon as Ronan was belted in and the car started moving he was out. He had needed a nap. I brought him home and he laid flat on his back and was out cold. Inara was concerned. She crawled over and looked at me and pointed at Ronan. A few seconds later she proceeded to gently hit him with a puzzle piece. I moved her away and assured her he was ok.
While Ronan was dozing I fed my picture taking addiction and did a photo shoot of Inara. Who could resist taking photos of such a cute face. Ronan would have been included in the cute baby shoot but there is only so many different pictures you can take of him completely passed out in the middle of the living room.
I awoke to the phone ringing and my body unwilling to move to answer it. " It's probably the oxygen people get up." I tried to motivate myself with that thought. No success. A quick glance out the window revealed a dreary morning soaked in drizzling rain. I felt the deep impulse to just lay in bed and neglect responsibility. A point of impossibility and laziness and perhaps one day I'll take a vacation and indulge that impulse. Today was definitely not that day. The phone rang again and I complied and reached for the phone. The ID read Mercy home care. Yes, it was the oxygen people.
The man on the phone wanted to bring the oxygen and give instructions and I told him that would be fine as long as I could be out the door by 9:45 for Ronan's therapy session. He agreed he could be done in more than enough time. Why did I feel this ridiculous sinking feeling. "You don't want him to have oxygen". I analyzed the thought and then felt bad. Of course I want him to have oxygen it will help him and it's better than a trach. "No you don't want him to that's why you avoided the phone call". Yes, I argue with myself at times. But it helps me to analyze my motives better.
I started thinking about all of this and I realized part of me was lazy. I didn't want another machine. I didn't want to have to keep the oxygen on Ronan's nose while he'd be fighting me tooth and nail to keep it off. Another task like hearing aides and glasses. I don't want to battle him through the night. I want to sleep. After I acknowledged my own selfishness and laziness I moved onto the deeper emotions. It scared me. What if he strangles himself? What if the oxygen is really a bad thing and raises his c02 levels causing him to suddenly die like the pulmonologist thought might occur? What if I set it up wrong? What if the tank explodes? If there is a fire do I need to push it outside before anything else? Yes, I was thinking all of those things as I fed Ronan breakfast.
The next thought I had about why I didn't want it was because I felt we were going backwards. It would have been one thing if Ronan came home from the NICU on oxygen because he was still progressing. He started on a vent then progressed to oxygen then slowly his oxygen was lowered and finally removed. Now at almost two he has to go back on. I allowed myself to analyze why I felt this way about everything and felt better. But I'm glad I didn't harbor all of this away and not acknowledge all of this was here. Once again I had engaged in the great mom debate full of decisions about the best thing for my children.
Ronan did not like his therapy session today. He was grumpy. All he wanted to do was swing and push the toy shopping cart up and down the hall. Every other activity suggestion was met with tears and him collapsing to the ground in frustration. The session was cut a little short and Ronan cried all the way out of the gym. We waited for our ride as he cried. My sister in-law was nice enough to act as our taxi today due to another long story.
As soon as Ronan was belted in and the car started moving he was out. He had needed a nap. I brought him home and he laid flat on his back and was out cold. Inara was concerned. She crawled over and looked at me and pointed at Ronan. A few seconds later she proceeded to gently hit him with a puzzle piece. I moved her away and assured her he was ok. 
While Ronan was dozing I fed my picture taking addiction and did a photo shoot of Inara. Who could resist taking photos of such a cute face. Ronan would have been included in the cute baby shoot but there is only so many different pictures you can take of him completely passed out in the middle of the living room.
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