Okay, so tomorrow is the big day...BMT...
I would be a big fat liar if I said I wasn't more than a little nervous. Tomorrow is a turning point in all of our lives, a day that could make or break Sarah's entire life. Literally. There is a lot of pressure in that. And there is a lot of pressure in knowing that tomorrow the entire fate of my precious baby girl rests in the hands of strangers, and while I know and I trust that they will do everything they possibly can for her, I know that tomorrow is going to be especially difficult as a mother, knowing that this is just going to go the way it's going to go, and there's not a damn thing I can do about any of it. I can't fix this. I can't make this go away. I can only pray, and trust that things will get better, that tomorrow and the days that follow for the next year or so until we are out of the woods are the very hefty price that we all have to pay for Sarah's future. I will pay it. She will pay it. There is no other way.
There is an added pressure and simultaneous release in knowing that she is in God's hands as well. There is nothing I can do, but by the same token, there is nothing for me to do but what I have always done. Be her mom. That is all that is required of me right now.
After the past two nights of no sleep and waking up every hour to my baby screaming in pain, the doctors and nurses have decided to just put Sarah on a Fentinyl drip, which means she has a low dose of pain medication running through her lines at all times. Now, those that know me, know that pain meds where Sarah is concerned are a last resort for me. I don't want to create dependencies in her later, or foster the idea that you just pop a pill every time you break a nail. Not that we don't ever use them, but they are a last resort, and 50% at least of Sarah's reactions to things is pure Drama Queen. But my baby has been in pain for two days straight, and even the pain meds weren't helping. Something had to be done. There is a slight risk that she will go through withdrawal later and that the very dependencies I was trying to avoid might surface later, but these drugs exist for a reason, and there is no other way at the moment. A very low dose has taken her pain and given me back my smiling, happy baby girl. That's all I care about at the moment.
All I can do is try to keep the negative thoughts at bay and focus on the positive. Tomorrow, we have friends and family coming to support us. Tomorrow, the Child Life department has set up a sort of "re-birthday celebration" which should make Sarah very happy. Tomorrow is, literally, the first day of the rest of our lives. May as well look forward to it.
Miss Boots is yelling at me, anxious to take her bath and play with the amazingly awesome new bath toys that Ama has so generously provided to entice her into the tub, since Miss Boots has had an aversion to tub-bathing in the hospital, but needs to take a daily oil-infused tub bath during her post-transplant convalescence. The moment is calling. Guess I'd better hop-to.