For those interested in the medical happenings, our son is resting relatively comfortably. He continues to receive tiny doses of morphine as needed, but he has not needed much. This morning, 48 hours after surgery, he is finally being fed, though it is just Pedialyte. They are literally administering it drop by drop through the GT and it is agonizing to watch it drip, knowing he is hungry and that's all he can have.
In a couple of days he will go to a very slow feed of breastmilk again, and hopefully by next week we will begin bolus feedings so we can start thinking about discharge.
We haven't been able to hold him yet, as he is tethered to the pump that administers the Pedialyte. That will continue on a constant, around-the-clock drip for now. Plus he is still in pain and I wouldn't want to pick him up and hold him if it means his abdomen would be scrunched up.
As for me? Well, I am doing my best. I am angry and confused and hurt and sad, mostly because my little boy has to suffer. I'm tired...the kind of tired where you don't even fully realize just how tired you are until you lay down in bed at night, flip on the news, and miss it because sleep comes instantly. I'm straight-up worn out and just want this all to be over...as much as it can be. This morning Hubs and I went to training for CPR and to learn how to use the apnea/bradycardia monitor and suction machine our son will come home with, a real reminder that things won't be the same around here for the foreseeable future.
I guess that's it for now. Just muddling through as best we can.