She was still connected to the epidural tube for most of the day. But she was better enough to get up and have a ‘first dance’ with her mom and dad, as the songs of Bebo Norman filled our hospital room. She cautiously curled up in my arms, put her head down on my shoulder, and allowed me to dance her slowly in circles, while Jo circled together with us keeping all three of us from getting wound up in the tubes and wires. We cried for the first time since all this began.
Tessa coloring, and a picture she drew of herself "without her clump," the second in a series of self-portraits. At least she didn't draw her dad again. He's not sure his self-esteem could have handled that.
It was a big day for taking tubes out. They have pulled the epidural out of her back. . She had an IV access port taken out of her hand. She is off the constant monitoring of heart rate, respiration rate and oxygen saturation, so those wires are gone too. So she only has two “tubes” left to come out: an IV access in her foot, and the Foley bag and catheter.
Which means we’re close to coming home.
Tess is actually happy and playful. She’s feeling enough like herself to get stubborn and start giving a little attitude to her mom and dad, too. I think she’s begun to figure out that people here will do absolutely anything to ensure a positive experience for her. So she’s started in with the “I’m-so-cute-and-I’ll-manipulate-you-out-of-your-retirement-savings-if-you-let-me” tricks. We just put her to bed for the night… or at least until the next nurse or doctor comes crashing into the room… or until she manipulates us into coming over to play and snuggle with her. They're both equally likely.
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