The Ray Of Sunshine Brightening My Dark Days

The past few weeks have, to put it mildly, been pretty rubbish. My husband’s four day business trip to Chicago in late January has turned into six week stay for all the family with his main residence being the Northwestern hospital. He has very nearly died – TWICE.

But there is one thing which kept me going; has helped distract from some of the dark days; my beacon of light in amongst the visits to hospital, the medication, the ECG machines, heart rate monitors and surgical procedures. It is, of course this little lady, my daughter known as Mrs T.

How can anyone be sad when they look at this face?   

Of course, she has no real idea what is going on. She’s hanging around with me and her grandparents a lot. She gets to stay in a hotel, press buttons on lots of lifts, say hello to everyone she meets, get rather spoilt and eat out a lot. Everywhere she goes she gets loads of attention – which she loves. In her eyes, this is one big (cold) holiday. Daddy just isn’t around very much.

It helps that she is HUGELY popular over here in Chicago. On our daily visits to the hospital, she gets copious amounts of looks, compliments, smiles and gasps of: “Oh, she’s so cute” and “look at that curly hair” and “she like a little Shirley Temple”. In fact, today alone, four people have told me that. I think I need to get her enrolled at stage school or something.

She has become a mini celebrity among the staff. They all know her and say hello and have a chat, remark on what a happy little girl she is, as she runs down the corridors, singing and laughing, her head of overgrown blond, curly hair bobbing up and down. I went to our regular coffee shop in the hospital the other day WITHOUT her and the manager was hugely disappointed she didn’t come, insisting: “well, you tell her I said hello”.

I do hope she helps to bring a glimmer of joy to those working and visiting the Northwestern (hospitals can be pretty miserable places)  like she has done for me and our family. Childhood innocence is a beautiful thing. At two and a half years old, she has no real awareness of the bigger picture. She does though know the doctors and nurses are “making daddy better”. I doubt she will have much of a lasting memory of Daddy’s extended stay in hospital but has been a huge comfort while we are here.

How can you not laugh when she pretends a pair of the hospital curtains are a hat? Or when she sneaks into daddy’s hospital bed and pretends she is asleep? She even insisted on trying to push daddy’s wheelchair when he had to come back into hospital. It’s almost as if she knows we all need to relax and see the lighter side. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine.

I’ve been surprised at just how intuitive she is (perhaps we don’t give children enough credit). Especially on what was the worst day of my life:  the day my husband went into cardiac arrest. That’s a whole other blog post (when I’m ready to relive it). He was successfully resuscitated but then had to undergo another operation, almost immediately, to drain fluid from around his heart. It was a tense time. But there she was, making people in the waiting room laugh, singing “Baa, Baa Black Sheep” and “Twinkle, Twinkle”, and generally being very funny, good and sweet. I had to entertain her so my mind was kept from wondering about what was going on in the operating theatre.

Back at the hotel room, when it was just me and her, she caught me, at times, looking a bit sad (which usually helped snap me out of it). That night, as I got her ready for bed, we had this moment.

“Mummy a bit sad”, she said.

“Yes a little bit” I said, nodding.

“Mummy have a big hug”, she insisted, and obliged, patting me on the back as she did so, then giving me a big kiss and telling me she loved me. What a sweetheart!

There has been a lot of that recently, the hugs, kisses and “I love you’s”. From both of us. I didn’t think I could appreciate her anymore – then something like this happens.

Despite my life being put on hold and living out of a suitcase in a different city and country for weeks on end, it has been an amazing bonding experience for my daughter and I. She has been my rock, my escape from reality, my best friend and my reason for carrying on day after day without over-worrying or analysing too much. I’ve had no choice but to keep going and to be her mum and make HER day as happy as I can.

And with no work to rush off to, no running around the supermarket, doing the washing, cleaning the house and making the dinner and with no daddy day care, we’ve spend far more time together than we ever would have back home. And despite the snow and wintry climes of Chicago my ray of sunshine has given me warmth and light and given new energy to keep me and those around her going.