It was December 14, 2011 around 2:30 P.M. when we first arrived to the E.R. My heart racing along with my mind. The moment it hit me was when we placed Kelsey on the scale at registration and started to talk about the past few weeks. Her hospital bracelet acknowledged that this was truly happening.
I realized how desperate we were for medical attention and how I truly should have seen this sooner.
From that moment, we were treated with respect, care, and attention. The doctors were compassionate and concerned.
By the time the evening shift change occurred, we were impatiently awaiting an answer that no one was able to provide. We had likely been there for seven hours without food or a glass of water. I was still nursing my ten month old baby girl so she did not seem to notice that her father and I denied ourselves nourishment because we were completely numb inside. Nursing seemed Kelsey’s only comfort in the world beside my arms throughout the past few weeks. I think it was my solace, too.
Later on in the evening, we met a husband and wife team of emergency room doctors. I will never forget their eyes of concern or the sandwiches they brought Brendan and I around 11 PM. According to the compassionate female doctor, whose name I do not recall five years later, “you really should eat something.” Her warm brown gaze met mine. Whether she was a mother herself, I do not know. She certainly had a nurturing and motherly sense about her regardless.
Even though I had not an inkling of hunger, that sandwich was necessary. For it was a source of nutrition, but even more than that, it was a sign that we were in the right place.
Even if it was a warm turkey and cheese sandwich at 11 PM, it was exactly what I needed.