{"id":1840,"date":"2009-08-29T18:48:04","date_gmt":"2009-08-29T23:48:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/?p=1840"},"modified":"2009-08-29T18:48:04","modified_gmt":"2009-08-29T23:48:04","slug":"and-it-all-comes-crashing-back","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/2009\/08\/29\/and-it-all-comes-crashing-back\/","title":{"rendered":"And it all comes crashing back"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Today I was looking at the pictures I have of Eva in the hospital when I first met her.  She was so small, and at first I was just amazed at the difference between then and now.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/elisalou.com\/blog\/photos\/photo\/3869160722\/img_1583.html\" class=\"tt-flickr tt-flickr-Large\" title=\"IMG_1583\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter\" src=\"http:\/\/farm4.static.flickr.com\/3430\/3869160722_265399b8a1_b.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_1583\" width=\"824\" height=\"583\" \/><\/a> <\/p>\n<p>As I stared at the pictures I was taken back to my feelings that day.  In the level 2 nursery with all of the babies, the monitors, the beeps.  I wanted to stay with her but it was taking everything I had to keep my butt in the rocking chair and not bolt for the nearest exit sign.  And it had nothing to do with her.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/elisalou.com\/blog\/photos\/photo\/3869158918\/img_1578.html\" class=\"tt-flickr tt-flickr-Large\" title=\"IMG_1578\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter\" src=\"http:\/\/farm3.static.flickr.com\/2443\/3869158918_87e1a758ce_b.jpg\" alt=\"IMG_1578\" width=\"824\" height=\"583\" \/><\/a> <\/p>\n<p>I called Andy, I was so sad.  I could not be in that nursery without being instantly back to the pediatric ICU where I spent so much time with Blake when he was a baby.  The beeps, the code blues, the babies that didn&#8217;t make it.  <\/p>\n<p>I wanted to hold Eva, I wanted to be with her- but I could barely breathe in that room.  My adoption agency would call me and say, &#8220;are you at the hospital?&#8221; and I would feel so guilty when I said, &#8220;no, I am at my hotel.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>I stayed with her, as much as I could.  But it was hard.  And I was amazed that now 10 years later I could still be brought so fast back to my life then.  That feeling.  Yuck.<\/p>\n<p>And then today I read <a href=\"http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2009\/08\/25\/health\/25trau.html?_r=4&#038;pagewanted=1&#038;em\">this article New York Times Article<\/a>.  And it made me feel a little better.  And a little sad.  For all the ones that have to go through that trauma.  But mostly it made me so very grateful for that boy in the next room playing with Legos.  And that little girl sleeping a few feet away.  I am one lucky girl.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Today I was looking at the pictures I have of Eva in the hospital when I first met her. She was so small, and at first I was just amazed at the difference between then and now. As I stared at the pictures I was taken back to my feelings that day. In the level 2 nursery with all of the babies, the monitors, the beeps. I wanted to stay with her but it was taking everything I had to keep my butt in the rocking chair and not bolt for the nearest exit sign. And it had nothing to do with her. I called Andy, I was so sad. I could not be in that nursery without being instantly back to the pediatric ICU where I spent so much time with Blake when he was a baby. The beeps, the code blues, the babies that didn&#8217;t make it. I wanted to hold Eva, I wanted to be with her- but I could barely breathe in that room. My adoption agency would call me and say, &#8220;are you at the hospital?&#8221; and I would feel so guilty when I said, &#8220;no, I am at my hotel.&#8221; I stayed with her, as much as I could. But it was hard. And I was amazed that now 10 years later I could still be brought so fast back to my life then. That feeling. Yuck. And then today I read this article New York Times Article. And it made me feel a little better. And a little sad. For all the ones that have to go through that trauma. But mostly it made me so very grateful for that boy in the next room playing with Legos. And that little girl sleeping a few feet away. I am one lucky girl.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,13],"tags":[438],"class_list":["post-1840","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-family","category-life","tag-life-in-the-icu"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1840","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1840"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1840\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1840"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1840"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1840"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}