42 Weeks! I remember the last time I hit the 42 week mark for something I’d been waiting for. The the delivery date for the mystery child growing in my belly had come with great expectation and then…it went. Everything had been okay till then, everything had been on schedule, I presumed. My pregnancy symptoms had matched the universal averages, but then when that estimated date of delivery had passed, I freaked out: I was suddenly the most uncomfortable I’d ever been, I was climbing the walls, jumping on trampolines, eating spicy Indian curries and pineapple spears, calling the midwives! Granted, this too was consistent with most other pregnant ladies. Justine was only 8 days late in the end, totally normal. But at the time…wow, time never moved slower.
Today we reached and are now passing the 42 week mark since Vernon’s accident. What a different mindset I have…I’m definitely more patient than I was 4 years ago. (Maybe parenting has taught me that!) You’d think that in almost ten months, Vernon’s would have learned to walk or to eat or to speak normally again…giving a hint that he might soon be ready to come home. But no, we have no estimated time of delivery. Wouldn’t it be amazing if suddenly we were told by the doctors, “Vernon has reached full term now. If there isn’t a big change in the next two weeks, we may have to induce…for his safety and yours.”
(Vernon with Justine two years ago.)
Today was a significant day for a couple of reasons. Vernon’s parents arrived from England last nigh—today being the first day they were able to see him since the accident. I had prepared them about life in the care home, but then this morning, I got a call saying Vernon had been placed back in Hoag hospital (the 3rd time in 6 weeks) because of his high temperature. So their first welcome into life with Vernon was a little more dramatic than we had hoped. I didn’t know what to expect when we all go there, but seeing him writhing on the bed with a fever, pretty delirious, having nurses poke him over and over for blood cultures, was not what any of us had hoped to find. I realized that though I blog regularly, I do hide a lot of the gory details, and they were shocked by what they saw.
Of course they were. It is shocking. I’ve been dealing with this so long, I don’t really mind what I see. But Maki said it well, later: “The first time IS a shock.”
It must be so hard to see one’s child on a hospital bed, no matter what the age. I know this is what they are going through, and it is not pleasant. However, my hope is that once they figure out the infections in Vernon’s body this round (they have ruled out pneumonia and sepsis so far, Thank God) they will be able to find this lurking problem and not only will he recover more fully, but his parents will get to enjoy watching him move forward. They are only here for two weeks, so I’m hoping he will make some remarkable steps in that time.
I discovered this version recently through a friend of mine (that’s you, Saida!) It’s the best I’ve heard of this song so I want to share it with you. Vernon loved his folk music, I know he’d like this one.