Thoughts...

The other night I had watched a video on YouTube and it brought back memories. Memories, thoughts and feelings I'd rather not think about again...ever. It made me think about 2 1/2 years ago when Noah was in the hospital. What a dark time of my life that was. Something I'd rather not experience again. It's ranks up there as being one of the darkest times of my life. Even surpassing the death of my father. Some nights I still lay in bed crying and wondering what I should have done differently. I beat myself up about not taking him sooner to the doctor. Even though I know I tried my best at home to get him to gain weight. I tried every non-allergenic formula out there and nothing seemed to work. I decided to drive an 1 1/2 hours away (we had just moved)to his original doctor instead of taking the time to find a doctor. I remember the feeling when they put him on the scale and he still weighed his birth weight at 3 months old. I was shocked, mortified, embarrassed, scared and worried. How could this be?! I was nursing him then feeding him a whole 4 ounce bottle. He was eating every two hours. I remember feeling like a common criminal and low life when the doctor told me they would have to call DCFS on me. I knew the truth. I knew I hadn't starved my baby and I couldn't believe they'd think I do such a thing- even though I knew why they did. I was horrified. I had been trying everything I knew to get my baby to gain weight. I knew there was a problem. I just didn't know how bad. (That's the whole reason I was taking him to the doctor.) I think about the feelings of hopelessness when every day they put on the scale and he hadn't gained an ounce. I wanted him to gain so bad- even if it made me look like I had neglected him. Even though I knew I had not. I didn't care. I just wanted my baby to be healthy again. I remember the anger when the nurses would scrape my baby's head thinking he had cradle cap when I knew it was a rash from allergies. His head would pus and ooze. The anger when they put the IV in wrong and it missed his vein and made his leg swell up to 3x's it's original size. The anger when they kept trying to feed him the same formula I had been feeding him and he was still in pain. The anger when the doctor wouldn't listen to me when I told him my gut feeling was that he had severe food allergies. The anger I felt when the doctor told a nurse to watch me when I fed my baby or for the nurse to feed him for me. (I think they thought I was throwing the food out or something.)The relief when they transferred Noah to a different hospital. The relief when the gastro doctor (at the new hospital) took one look at him and said it looked like he had a food allergy. The relief when my child seemed content after his first feeding on the new, special formula. The disappointment when he still wasn't gaining weight. The loneliness. The incredible loneliness. The loneliness because I got very few visitors. The loneliness because Tim was too busy with work to be there with me. The shame because I knew it was because they blamed me. The shame when I heard the comments people had made about my inability to care for my child. The shame when the DCFS investigator came to interrogate me. The shame when the investigator came to my house and interrogated my other children. The sadness I felt when even certain family members were upset with me. The sadness I felt when they would poke my baby with a needle every morning. The tears- the many, many tears I shed. The happiness I felt when Noah was gaining weight. The happiness when his rash cleared up. The happiness when I received a phone call from my cousin and she prayed with me over the phone. The happiness when my grandfather took the time to call and see how his great-grandson was doing. The happiness that my mom cared enough to call every,single morning to see what his weight was. The happiness and love I felt for my mother knowing she was caring for my two older children. (My family was such a huge support for me.)The happiness when I got to take my baby home with me. The happiness when he gained weight at every doctor's appointment after his initial hospital stay. The love I felt for my baby. The love I felt for my family. The love I felt for my God. Because He loved me through it all. Without him it would've been an even darker time. My relationship with Him grew so much during that time. And even though I would never want to go back to that time in my life it did make me the person I am now. God put that in my life for a reason. For what? I'm not sure but I know there was/is a purpose to everything. I thank God every day that Noah is now a very healthy, active and growing (almost) 3 year old!