I’m sitting at the hospital.  We’re in our private room with the baby.  She’s sleeping.   She is serene.  She is finally comfortable.

The TV is on really low in the background.  There’s not much going on, so I browse the Internet aimlessly.   I’m grateful that Tatiana is resting.  

I think about how she’s such a little rebel with good instincts.  I think about today’s personal revolution to get rid of her NG tube  - as in “nasogastric tube” if you want the full on medical term.  It’s basically a plastic tube that goes in through the nose, past the throat, and into the stomach.  It can be used for quite a few different reasons, but in Tatiana’s case, the tube was in place to drain her stomach and prevent her from vomiting, following yesterday’s surgery.   

The results of that revolution: three points for Tatiana; zero points for the NG tube.  It only took her a split second after she actually went for it.  And a split second later, she seemed instantly relieved.  The tube was irritating her throat and causing her constant pain.  As soon as she yanked it out, she babbled sounding relieved, and I’m sure she would have done a little dance if she weren’t so strung out from the morphine in her system.  

It wasn’t the first time she pulled such a stunt; she’d done the same thing twice during her stay in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit back in her first six weeks of life.  

I felt like I had been nagging different nurses all day about the tube.  Her surgeon had come by earlier to check on her, and he mentioned the possibility of taking it out  - especially if it continued to drain such a small amount of fluid.  

I guess you could say she was being proactive in her care.

Well, after that, the nurses relocated her IV, which was also causing her some grief.  And since then, it’s been smooth sailing.  Now, it’s just a waiting game – we have to wait to see when her bowels will wake up and show us some proof that everything is in working order.  What exactly does that mean?  Well, it means we have to wait and see if she can actually poop out of her bottom without any major issues.  Fun stuff.  

I’ve been thinking about what that would be like.  I know, thinking about poop – so short of glamorous.  Still, that would be huge for Tatiana, a child born without the natural ability to do what so many of us take for granted.  Up until this last surgery, she was pooping into a colostomy bag out of the side of her belly.  

So, here I am.  Typing.  Checking my stats.  Looking up other mommy blogs. Debating whether I’m going to stick to my guns and resist Twitter or throw in the towel and tweet ‘til the cows come home.  

It’s so quiet. I can’t decide whether the humming of the air conditioner is soothing or annoying, but its there.

It’s 10:24pm.  

Suddenly I hear the faintest little sound. Trrr.  

“Did she just fart?!”  I ask my husband.  

We look at each other stunned, excited.  I’ve never been so happy to hear someone pass gas, break wind, cut the cheese, flatulate . . . toot.  

She’s still sound asleep. Relaxed.

“Wait.  Did she just poo?!”  

“I think she just poo’d!”  

I check her diaper.  “We’ve got poo!  Yay, Tatiana we’ve got poo!”  My husband and I are grinning ear-to-ear.  

I change her poo-soiled diaper for the first time in her life, and I’ve never been so happy to deal with someone else’s crap.  

So, being the night owl that I am, I couldn’t sleep last night.  Funny how I was completely exhausted at about 10pm, and there I was - close to midnight with a bizarre surge in energy.  I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by that because it is, after all, a regular occurrence.  I knew I should have been getting some rest, but my body and my brain were not cooperating.  I kept trying to imagine how I would react to the absence of Tatiana’s stoma, and I started to feel that nervous internal energy – the kind that could fuel a mental marathon.  In some ways, it’s a nice feeling, but it was making me anxious and it was preventing me from getting any sleep.  

Well, that anxiety pales in comparison to the anxiety I felt this morning.  I am pretty sure I woke up to experience a full-fledged panic attack.  

I woke up to my phone ringing at 6:27am. My heart dropped and I felt the most extreme panic I’ve ever experienced in my life.  This is by no means an exaggeration – I’ve been calmer in major emergencies.   I think I might have even felt more panicked than when we first found out about Tatiana’s condition. I’m pretty sure the first full minute after opening my eyes and shooting out of bed was filled with all of the curse words imaginable.   My body was shaking from the adrenaline.   This was a nightmare – one I’ve had so many times before, but now it was actually happening in real life.  I have to admit there was something funny about how close this was to those horrible dreams.  

I ran downstairs frazzled. “Wake up!  We were supposed to be at the hospital 15 minutes ago!”  My husband had stayed up with Tatiana most of the night.  Part of her preparation for the surgery required that we give her only clear liquids 24 hours before and nothing at all after midnight, so you can just imagine how unhappy she was about that.  

I ran back upstairs.

Stay calm, stay calm – I dialed the hospital.  I don’t even know what I said, I was freaking out to such an unfamiliar degree.  All I remember was the person on the other end of the line telling me that they would let the surgeon know and that they would see us soon.

Oh crap. We have to make it.  We’ve been waiting for this surgery for so long.  I don’t know if I can take another disappointment on this one, and this one would involve an entirely new level of self-blame.    

I had set four alarms.  Unfortunately, none of them went off.  How that happens, I have no clue.  I am pretty sure it has something to do with the silly things that happen to me and with the universal plan that puts me on track to being late to my own funeral.  I’ll admit, I was late to my own wedding, but I have never been late to any of Tatiana’s surgeries – until today, that is.  We were supposed to check her in to the hospital by 6:15am.

I don’t even know how we managed to get out of the house so fast, bring everything we needed, and have my 3 year old ready for daycare.  I guess it was a good thing I had packed the night before.  

My sister found humor in how much the chaos of this morning resembled the scene from the movie Home Alone.  She wasn’t too far off the mark, but at least we remembered to bring the baby!

We made it just a few minutes past 7am.  And thank goodness, they were still able to admit her for surgery.  Phew!

I am notorious for not answering my phone.  Much to my dismay, my phone has had this glitch that delays my incoming calls and even though this glitch has caused me ongoing frustration, I haven't done much about it.  Not that high on my list of priorities, I guess.  There are those rare occasions, however, when the magical phone fairies carry the call through.  Last Wednesday was one of those days. . .

"How soon would you like to schedule Tatiana's procedure?"

"Um, would you like me to bring her in today?" I responded - half joking, half serious.

"How about next week?  Would Thursday work for you?"

I almost jumped out of my seat from the sheer excitement of the news.  We've been waiting for this surgery for quite a while now.  It’s the one that would close up her colostomy and hopefully, allow her to poop like any other normal kid.  What exactly is a colostomy?  Well, a colostomy is an abdominal opening that is created by bringing the intestines out through the skin and then sewing the intestine to the skin to create a stoma, or a little opening that in this case, provides an outlet for Tatiana’s poop.  It’s funny how we can take those bodily functions for granted; at least I never gave it much thought before Tatiana was born.

When we first discussed how long Tatiana would have her colostomy, we were working off of a 4 to 6 month timeline.  Back then, I felt like that was going to be an eternity.  I thought "Well, it could be worse.  Some kids have to have their colostomy for life. Who am I to complain about a couple of months?"  That thought has become something of a mantra in those times when I feel like I just can't do it anymore.  And even then, I'm embarrassed by those moments of frustration because they remind me of how weak and shallow I can be.  Things could be worse and yet, in those moments of frustration, I feel like this world is caving in around me.  I try not to think about what must be going through people's minds when they see her little pouch of baby poo.  Sometimes, the comments are cute and harmless: “It looks like split pea soup” and yes, sometimes, it does.  But it’s those silent stares that I wonder about.  They don’t bother so much anymore, but I still wonder.

We had originally scheduled this same procedure for some time back in December, but if this past year has taught me anything, it's that I should always be open to rolling with the punches.  The surgery was postponed back then because Tatiana needed another surgery that we hadn’t quite planned for.  Thankfully everything turned out fine.

I’m looking forward to the surgery.  I’m nervous, excited, and anxious. 

I think about all of those moments when I’ve had to change Tatiana’s colostomy bag; I think about those moments when I’ve sat there staring at my hands, covered in my daughter's blood and crap, and I can’t help but think back to those first days in the hospital.  After so much of the same - blood, crap, sweat, and tears -  we welcome the change.  We've come a long way, and we have much to be thankful for.