Silver Thread

We used to be punctual people. Since Fin came along, not so much. For a while, having him at home felt awesome, but limiting. Obviously, we were glad he survived, but we felt like we just barely survived his survival. Ground zero was being at home, just trying to figure out how to deal with all his equipment. We didn’t try to take him anywhere. We didn’t go to church or school functions or out to eat or anything. It took so long to get him ready to go anywhere. We smiled through it, but it felt like prison, in a way. Still, if we traded freedom for inconvenience, it was a small price to pay.

As he got bigger and his oxygen requirement was less, we would try to get out of the house occasionally. I remember the first trip to go shopping. It took us three hours to get ready. There was just so much stuff to remember. Ambu bag. Vent. Oxygen tanks. Suction for his trach. Feeding bag. Regular baby diaper bag. And a stroller to fit it all. It got better with time. We got it down to an hour at one point, and that felt pretty good. We attempted to go out to dinner a few times. Things started to feel more normal.

Now, we can get ready and out the door in fifteen minutes. We know better what he needs, and he is big enough to help us out a little. It’s still a manic rush to try to get anywhere on time, but we’ve got it down to a science. The problem is, we’re now fifteen minutes late to everything. Even if we factor in the fifteen minutes, we’re still late. It’s a far cry from when he first came home, so it feels like progress. Soon, we’ll be on time again. We’ve come a long way in a short period of time.