Day Twosies

Hey everyone, thank you. I mean it. If there's one thing that never ceases to amaze when you're in crisis, it's the outpouring of support and prayers from such lovely friends. Between this blog, Sean's Facebook, a prayer chain in Sean's hometown, and my ginormous family, Jordan pretty much had a country praying for her.

We did in fact have to stay at the hospital again last night. It was ruled that Jordan had bronchiolitis (like bronchitis but for the smaller bronchial tubes I guess?) and her white platelet count had reached an alarmingly high number in an effort to fight off the virus. She is doing worlds and galaxies better though; staying an extra night was precautionary.

In an effort to not focus on some of the abject horrors that befell my young yesterday - like I don't know... Jordan's being born with whispery ghost veins that are responsible for the blood-extractors' inability to fill their vials after THREE different puncture attempts, all while her own mother was bodily pinning her to the table *shudder* for a full fifteen minutes - I have compiled a list of some things that actually procured a tiny crack-smile during our stay in Dante's Inferno.

1) Check Jordan's sweetass Pedes uniform. Open back, ties at the neck. So on trend.

Might've snuck that out with us in the diaper bag.

2) Are you a nurse? I love you. I know this is not the case for everyone, but I have SCORED in the nurse department every time I've had a hospital journey. One tidbit that kinda cracked me up occurred the first night at 5:30 in the morning. This sweet Filipino night nurse came to check Jordan's blood-oxygen levels. Neither Jordan nor I had found sleep yet but it was pitch black and quiet in the room so the nurse probably thought we had. The blood pressure machine when switched on registered like VOLUME 800 and incessantly beeped, to which the nurse didn't pay much mind. However when Jordan started softly and earnestly murmuring some sweet nothings to her, the little nurse whispered "Shhh, sweetheart, your mama is sleeping."

3) Jordan's relationship with the roof of her cage flourished.

4) Hospital food. J to the K. Just wanted to sneak this photo in. Sean was doing "jet fighter plane" with Jordan's yogurt and I must've been taking a bunch of pics in a row cuz he wanted to know if I was taking a

Video?

5) Serious Papa Bear/Cub time. They were thick as thieves.

6) Jordan was a champion. Truly impressive. Despite quite literal torture (which in her innocent eyes was aided and abetted by her parents) and a whopping total of 3.5 hours of sleep in 36, she was smiling, cuddling, pretending the movable hospital bed was a bucking bronco, and at one point laughing hysterically at her IV rack (pretty confident she was loopy by then). The doctor called her a warrior and she really was just that. At fifteen months old she is an example to me.

Because I, on the other hand, was a pathetic puddle of anxiety and defeat thinly disguised as bag lady with unkempt eyebrows and stretchy pants who was living out of her purse for 48 hours.

It's home again home again for us this morning armed with antibiotics and a nebulizer to battle the bronchial adversary. I truly madly deeply appreciate all of the prayers. I'm quite sure they kept me from the precipice of hysteria and undoubtedly sped Jordan's recovery.

 Sheeeeee's back!