#tiny jay

The first forty-eight hours after surgery are nothing short of an absolute nightmare. 

His little boy is in constant pain that the doctors don’t seem to be able to get ahead of. 

They’re managing to control it enough to start working through the post -surgery checklists. 

Use of the incentive spirometer starts four hours after moving from the PACU (Post Anesthesia Care Unit) to the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit). 

Six hours after that, Jay gets to move from the bed to the adjacent recliner for thirty to forty minutes. 

At eighteen hours some of the extra lines added for the surgery get removed. 

The Foley catheter comes out a little after twenty four hours and it’s not long after that before they’re wanting to get him up and walking for short distances. 

And while Pat knows that these decisions are based on a lot of experience and what they’ve learned from countless similar procedures about what will benefit Jay in the long run, it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Any less upsetting to help cajole his son into doing something that’s obviously painful while he cries and begs him not to make him do it. 

To coax him to walk the short distance to the ensuite bathroom and then sit on the floor next to the toilet until he manages to pee. 

Helps him walk back to bed and gets him settled in, head partially elevated and the plush heart-shaped pillow clutched to his chest. 

He’s been coughing since he came out of anesthesia, his throat irritated from the intubation, and the only thing that helps is folding his arms around himself and holding the pillow close. 

The hardest part is that he can’t seem to sleep, not for long at least. 

He drifts off but within thirty minutes, usually a lot sooner, he’s jolting awake with a tormented whimper. 

And the longer he goes without sleeping, the more upset and tearful he gets. 

Pat is glad that Bridget isn’t here to see much of this. 

She comes by the day after the surgery after taking Will to school, sitting with her baby and showering him with affection. 

But she doesn’t stay long. 

They get a call from the school, redirected from the nursing station, less than an hour after she arrives. 

Will has sequestered himself in cubby closet of his first grade classroom, curled up against the wall in the back corner and sobbing his eyes out. 

She kisses Jay’s forehead. 

Tells him to keep being brave and strong for Daddy and then rushes back to the school. 

Bridget spends over an hour sitting on the floor in the closet with her oldest son while he cries. 

While he begs to see his baby brother. 

Then she takes him home and snuggles him onto the couch with a cartoon playing. 

Dishes up ice cream that he won’t even touch. 

Tries to explain why they can’t take him to see Jay yet without scaring him even more. 

But nothing really seems to work. 

He begs and pleads, promises that he won’t touch anything – that he’ll be good. 

That he won’t be scared. 

It’s almost enough for her to throw all caution to the wind and take him to the hospital with her. 

But she doesn’t really think that watching his father half force his little brother into using the spirometer while he cries and begs not to have to will make him feel any better. 

It hadn’t made her feel any better, desperate as she’d been to see for herself that her little boy had pulled through the surgery. 

The relief that he was okay had been lost almost immediately to the tears in his eyes. 

He’s hurting and upset and it had broken her heart. 

Would break Will’s heart just as quickly. 

And as much as she believes that he can keep his hands to himself – that he won’t bump something and jeopardize his little brother’s health – or at least drive the nurses to a panic by disconnecting an important monitor – it doesn’t change the hospital rules. 

There’s nothing she can do for another twenty four hours until he’s stepped down to a room in the PCCU (Pediatric Cardiac Care Unit) and the rules get relaxed a little. 

Hopefully by then, they’ll have a better balance of the pain medications and Jay’s injuries will have settled. 

But she really doesn’t know how she’s going to get him through the next twenty-four hours. 

She takes the untouched ice cream bowl off his lap and sets it on a side table. 

“Do you want to go to the park, sweetheart?” she asks softly. “Go down a few slides, spend some time on the swings?”

He shakes his head, burrowing into her side. 

“Take a walk?” she offers. “Maybe get your bike out for a little bit?”

“Jay can’t ride his bike.” he mutters. 

“He will.” she tells him. “He just needs some time to heal.”

He turns, blinking up at her. 

“He’s really not dead?” he whispers. 

Another crack forms in her heart. 

“Baby I promise you, your little brother is going to be just fine.” she says. “He’s hurting but he’s healing.”

“Is that why you won’t take me to see him?” he asks. “Cause you think it will scare me that he’s hurting?”

“Maybe a little.” she admits. “But the hospital also has rules. They won’t let you in the unit he’s in right now. Because most kids aren’t smart and responsible like you.”

“You could tell them I’m different.” he says. “That I’m a good kid.”

“They won’t listen.” she says softly. “Tomorrow. Okay, baby?”

He pouts but nods. 

Leans against her side. 

Jay falls asleep in the car on the ride home.

She pulls into the driveway, putting the car in park and killing the engine but instead of getting out, she turns to watch her little boy sleep.

To listen to him breathe.

It’s faster than it used to be.

She only knows that because the doctor’s office had timed his respirations and they’re faster compared to his last checkup.

Should she have noticed?

Should she have realized that something was wrong before his little body had started screaming that he wasn’t okay in the form of blue-tinged nail beds and clammy skin?

Pat comes out to the car when they don’t come in.

“He okay?” He asks quietly.

“Sort of?” She answers weakly. “Help me get him in bed and then I’ll fill you in?”

He nods, opening the back door and starting to unbuckle the car seat.

Jay stirs but falls back to sleep with a soothing noise from his father.

She watches with a smile as her husband picks him up, carefully tucking his head against his shoulder.

She moves ahead of him as they creep into the boys’ room, moving around without lights.

He lays Jay down on his bed and pulls off his shoes while she finds pajama pants.

Carefully maneuvering the little boy out of his jeans and into the softer pants, they tuck him under the covers and press kisses to a tiny forehead.

“Goodnight love.” She whispers before tiptoeing across the room.

“Mama?” Will whispers sleepily.

“Just me, baby.” She tells him, kissing his forehead too. “Go back to sleep.”

“S’Jay okay?” He asks. “Did I… Did I hurt him?”

“No sweetheart.” She assures him. “You were perfect today. He’s just a little sick. He’ll be alright.”

He frowns but nods.

“Okay.”

“Go to sleep, baby.” She repeats. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mama.” He says with a big yawn, rolling to his side.

She meets her husband in the hallway, watching as he carefully pulls the door mostly closed.

Then they slip down the hall, settling in the kitchen over mugs of tea.

She wishes it was something stronger but that gets saved for special occasions when you have little kids.

And though tonight might qualify, she wants to stay sharp in case Jay has any problems.

In case they end up making that run to the Emergency Room.

“So.” He says after a few minutes. “What’s up?”

“The doctor said… congenital heart defect.” She says, staring into her tea. “He’s getting bigger and it’s not resolving like they sometimes do.”

“Are we talking surgery?” He asks, sounding alarmed.

“I don’t what we’re talking.” She says honestly. “He sent a referral for a pediatric cardiologist. They’ll call Monday to set up an appointment and we’ll get a clearer look at what’s going on then.”

“And just… sent him home in the meantime?” He says.

“The doctor said he should be okay as long as he rests. No running, jumping – anything that would get his heart rate up. He was doing fine by the time we got taken back – other than being tired- and the doctor said that if he starts getting into trouble again and it doesn’t go away fairly quickly once he’s resting we should take him to the Emergency Room.”

She chokes out a sob.

“I’m terrified to let him out of my sight, Pat.” She admits. “What if he… what if something happens?”

“We can set the baby monitors back up.” He offers. “Keep an ear on him.”

She nods shakily.

He rounds the counter, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“He’ll be okay.” He promises. “Provided he doesn’t lose his mind with all the restrictions.”

She chuckles wetly.

“It feels like my fault.” She says quietly. “Like I must have done something wrong when I was pregnant with him that kept his heart from growing the way it should.”

“B.” He whispers.

“I know that’s probably not the case.” She says immediately, shaking her head. “But he’s my baby and I – I can’t protect him from this.”

“But you’ll make it better.” He tells her. “You’ll get him in to see that specialist and figure out exactly what’s going on and then come up with a plan of attack. And whatever he needs; surgery, meds, whatever – we’ll make it happen.”

She sniffles but nods.

“You must be exhausted.” He tells her. “Why don’t you go watch them sleep for a minute while I dig out the baby monitors and then we’ll head to bed?”

She nods, wanting to cry again because her husband is so wonderful and she’s not sure what she did to deserve him.

But as he heads down to the basement, she does go stand in the hallway, cracking the door open to stare in at her little miracles.

Watching tiny chests rise and fall as they sleep.

Listening to them breathe.

Pat sets the baby monitor on Jay’s dresser and they retreat to their room.

Change into their pajamas and climb into bed.

But both of them lie awake, listening to the gentle sounds of Jay breathing, for a long time before they fall asleep.