Today was the dreaded day.  The one that has stressed my nerves for over a month. The one where two of my kids were to meet with the pulmonologist.

One had to face more testing, more questions on whether or not the CF was something he would claim for his own.

One had to improve her faltering health or it was time to get out the big guns of IV antibiotics and a hospital stay.

Tomorrow I will go into what happened with Brandon. Tomorrow I will delve into that pool of hurry up and wait.

Today I’m eyeball deep in hospital stays and IV’s and PICC lines and WILL WE BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS?

I have not cried yet. I was almost fully expecting this to happen.  I’ve welled up a few times, but managed to keep them away.  The afternoon was spent finding places for our other two children to take refuge so that we could focus on Angel. Scheduling who would be where and when and for how long and who would do better sleeping in the hospital and who would do better at home?

And how would we really be able to handle our little baby’s first ever hospital stay.

In essence, Angel’s lung functions were still very poor, very low.  Without a bit of question the doc started making calls before she even came into our room.  Angel was to be admitted.  She would start with a peripheral IV, and have a PICC line inserted soon as possible.  Knowing what day was fast approaching, the pulm said that we would try to get her discharged on Christmas Eve and let us do the PICC antibiotics at home…but since it’s our first ever hospital stay and our first time with a PICC there are no guarantees.

Angel has been holding up extremely well. She calls the hospital her “new home” and says she wants to stay here forever.

They do her treatments (Albuterol by nebulizer & chest compressions) four times a day. She has her vitals checked every four hours. The nurses all love her (really, who doesn’t?).

She has a nice lady that comes in (a sort of ‘morale’ nurse) and brings in an iPad full of games when she has major stuff done (like IV’s or blood work).  She’s up much later than we let her stay at home, and there’s a cabinet full of movies for her to watch on her (private) room’s TV.

Angel…she’s on cloud 9.

Archie and I are in our own little hell. Trying to be the strong ones.

This was not how I’d planned for my holiday week to happen.

My family scattered, each child in another place…Archie & I having to schedule a basic avoidance of each other to avoid hospital parking fees.

One way or another we’ll be together for Christmas.

It’s the week leading up that’s nothing like I pictured it.

It makes me sad.

But through the sadness I have been so blessed.  We DO have people to take the kids. Archie CAN take whatever time he needs off if he wants/needs to – even w/o PTO left (they’ll be working w/ HR to find a way to cover the hours). We have offers of help.

I have found that not only can my fabulous Indy bloggers throw an excellent party…

But they are there for you when things go south. It has been many years since I’ve had “real” friends – my closest friends have always been cyber and far from local (every bit as real to me…but not someone I can go drink have coffee with).  But in my time of need, so many popped up with offers of help and support.  (One in particular…Emily, you are a gem beyond belief.)  My neighbor has offered support (thanks, lady. Won’t name you, but I know you’ll see this)…and so many others.

Of all the things that have threatened to break my no-tears streak, it is all of the amazing outpouring we’ve received.

In this time of stress…it’s wonderful to have blessings to focus on.