And the world keeps spinning

We’re home. We now know that there is nothing critical wrong. Is that even the right set of words? There was something critical wrong. Our baby stopped breathing. But it’s nothing major. Is that even right? Her face was blue. There is no significant medical reason why this might have happened, and she is developmentally a well baby.

We are happy. How could we not be happy? A simple diagnosis, and a likelihood that it won’t be an issue again.

And the world keeps spinning.

Oh – you’re baby has been in hospital? Is everything ok? Oh, it’s just reflux? We’ve been there. Probably nothing really. But it was a big deal. SHE STOPPED BREATHING. HER FACE WAS BLUE. But she is OK now, and we know what to do. We’ve had CPR training. 5 rescue breaths, 30 compressions, 2 breaths, 30 compressions, 2 breaths. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

And the world keeps spinning.

At least you’re self employed. At least you can take time off work. You’ve got staff; they’ll look after things while you are gone. But how long will the emails wait? How many decisions will be made or not made? Which contracts will be won, lost or passed over?

And the world keeps spinning.

So many people have gone through worse. Families have lost children both within and outside of the womb. Good friends have had their children in special care for weeks on end. Their loss and grief must be so much greater. Families have struggled with pain over ongoing sickness and health. Our 3 days is nothing in comparison. Or so I tell myself.

And the world keeps spinning.

My wife and I joke about the fact that we’ll take turns in staying up to watch her. We laugh about how we’re not sure we’re going to sleep for the next few weeks. But we aren’t laughing on the inside. The fear of it happening again, however unlikely, however not life threatening, continues to loom over us.

And the world keeps spinning.

We are lovingly told that it will be hard. We are told that we must be racked with worry. Or filled with relief. The discharge nurse said we must be happy. But the feelings are so much more than that. So much more deeply complicated and full.

And the world keeps spinning.

But my world isn’t spinning.

It’s stopped today.

Right now I’ve got grief, sorrow and pain. And relief and joy. But sadness and pain. I know that this too shall pass. I know that sorrow and grief are temporary. I know that my hope is not found in this life, but in the next. But right now it just hurts.