While I’m thrilled to be so close to such an amazing hospital as Sick Kids, I found myself getting anxious with every step as I got closer to the front door this morning for Ella’s appointments.
As I pushed her through the doors and wove my way through the halls to ultrasound, I realized how hard it is to be in a hospital literally full of sick kids.
As we waited for our ultrasound, everyone kept giving me looks, that to me screamed, “What’s wrong with your teeny tiny baby?” Those looks followed us through the halls, in the food court, the elevators, and in neurosurgery. Of course, every family is there for a reason, and many may wonder who is worse off. We can only see the outside, but will never know what’s happening within families.
The hospital may have a lovely food court and even a fancy gift shop, but it’s still a hospital, and it serves as a constant reminder that our family is special, that our girl is special. To have to keep repeating the same information, “Brain bleed. Maybe cerebral palsy.” is almost as traumatic as the first time I heard those words.
Being surrounded by families who are struggling does little to comfort me, but instead serves as a constant reminder of our future, which will always be uncertain.
It’s scary waiting for the doctors to come in, even though she seems to be doing well, you never know what they might say, and you begin to question every spit-up, every averted gaze and think the worst.
We’ll be back at Sick Kids again soon, and I suppose that this is the beginning of a life filled with check ups and anxiety, not just for sweet Ella, but for all my kids, as there is just no telling what the future holds.