Sigh. Cooper's big surgery is on Thursday. Someone asked me if I was nervous and I'm not--for the surgery. It's the recovery that scares me. He's going to have work done on his soft palate and a bone graft taken from his hip to patch his hard palate. He will be in the hospital at least two days. Last time we were in a shared room in the infant wing--very uninviting for anyone above the age of one. (It's a good thing that the service and expertise are fabulous and affordable...) The baby gets to be on a crib gurney with metal cage bars. The floor is old, hard, linoleum. The rooms are small and kind of dark, which is good I guess for the baby to sleep. The baby next to you is crying if your baby is not. You are provided with a narrow plastic-upholstered rocking chair with a footstool that could stretch out if you wanted to lie down--on your side because you wouldn't really fit on your back. Things are beeping all night and the nurses keep walking in and shoving the curtain back, and the door stays open.
So. I am not spending the night with my baby.
Yes, I'm a bad mother. But I figure, he sleeps through the night anyway, he's going to be so doped up he won't really know who's got him anyway, and it's not really a choice of sleeping there or sleeping in a nearby hotel. It's to sleep or not to sleep.
I am also packing two novels and my portable DVD player. So there.