Pookies Troubles: 10

I collapse
Posted Oct-23-07 20:39:04 PDT Updated Oct-24-07 21:52:42 PDT
Into the wall of the elevator; I can breathe because I know she is waking. My hands though are a mess. Washing clothes everyday is taking toll. I follow them silently to the waiting area. I watch silently as my husband goes in and I try to keep up with my son.
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He keeps pulling on my hands. He has no way of knowing that my hands are cracked and bleeding from washing our clothes out every night. He just wants to play; feeling his sister is on the mend. I just watch him ping; he is five almost six and full of energy. I let him run and climb while thinking; she is coming home.
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Sitting there
Posted Oct-23-07 20:57:21 PDT
I know she is waking. My hands are a mess. The career down the tubes. But, I wait for him to come out. I need to see her. Feel her body and know she is still trying to be with us.
While we wait; a doctor comes in our waiting room. She motions to my hands. I let her peel the gauze off. (It hurts so bad but I take deep breathing to a new level as she removes the gauze.) She makes a clucking sound and tells me to wait in Portuguese. I watch my son moving over the chairs. We are alone and waiting.

She walks back into our to area. And cleans my hands. I want to scream but take it all instead. Wrapping my hands up, she gives me a pill and I take it. I have no other choice. I have to see my daugther. I have to connect with her. I need to know that I am still her fulcrum.
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Bandaged Up!
Posted Oct-23-07 21:09:42 PDT
The doctor finishes my hands as my hubby comes out. I can not wash my hands tonight. I walk through the doors and look at the sink. (We are alone tonight.)
I look at her bed, surroundings and just want to sink in sleep. I get to her side. Her face is swollen and discolored. My beautiful child is another person. I pick up her hand on the side without tubes or straps.
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They have strapped my child to the bed
I look at nails that a few days ago would not have belonged to her. The nails are long and thick probably from the drugs. I just hold hold her left hand and stroke it for a while. Then she turns her head and asks:
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"Where is my mother?: My heart plumments but I reply--------I can get her to call you!
(I can promise the world but this child's mother is a different story.)
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I want Mommie!
Posted Oct-24-07 20:29:22 PDT Updated Oct-24-07 20:30:59 PDT
Her words are slurred! Her face is not the same. "I want Mommie!" I rubbed her hand, arms and body.
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"I know honey, I will have her call you, do you trust me," I ask her? She nods her head. She needs her biological mother. I accept that I am not enough. This is the hardest thing I have ever experienced in my life. My daughter is needing to hear the voice of the "ONE" she holds true. I just wonder how I will accomplish my promise.
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I have so many questions:
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Why does her mother not call?
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Why does her mother not make an attempt?
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Yet, though I know I have given her BIO mom the knowledge. She has not called. I ache for my daugther as I leave her room. I can not imagine leaving my own child in the hands of another. Today we will find a way to find our daugther a way to speak to her, Mom. It is not a choice.
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