Christmas in the hospital: When it’s not the most wonderful time of the year
Monitors alarming, machines beeping, and lights flashing are not the delightful Christmas sounds and sights I anticipate annually. They don’t ring quite like jingle bells or twinkle like lights on an evergreen tree. Christmas in the hospital is not something anyone puts on their wish list.
Yet, we found ourselves in the hospital for Christmas due to no other option for our newborn baby. Christmas is my favorite holiday, which made this even harder.
Spending Christmas in the hospital was just like I expected and nothing I could have anticipated at the same time. Through the challenge, I also learned an important lesson.
How we ended up in the hospital for Christmas
My third child was due December 23. I was not thrilled with the idea of having a Christmas baby, but my previous two children arrived a tiny bit early and I assumed my third would follow suit. I assumed we’d be home for the holiday, cozying up and enjoying the newborn snuggles – an extra sweet holiday gift!
In an unfavorable twist of events, a mere 8 hours after my daughter arrived, we had to start working on her hospital to hospital transfer. She was born critically ill with multiple congenital heart defects (CHDs). Therefore, she needed a higher level of support from a children’s hospital with cardiac surgical capabilities.
On her third day of life, on December 20, heartbreakingly, she had to undergo open-heart surgery. And this is how we ended up in the hospital for Christmas. On Christmas Day, at 8 days old, and 5 days post-open-heart surgery, our daughter was still in the pediatric cardiac intensive care unit recovering.
Christmas is my favorite holiday
Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. My family and our traditions always made it extra special, and as an adult, I still delight in the holiday at a kid-like level. I love the decorations, the lights, and all the special events. I enjoy the cookie-making, present-wrapping, and all the build-up. I anticipate it greatly.
When we spent Christmas in the hospital, grief and sadness consumed my usual joy and cheer. My daughter made it through her surgery, but she was not out of the woods yet. Everything felt so uncertain and bleak.
What Christmas in the hospital was like
Christmas in the hospital was what you might expect. There were mini Christmas trees, holiday cards taped all over, and lights and decorations brightening up the halls. Presents were gifted, cards were given and everyone tried to bring cheer.
They provided special notes and support acknowledging the difficulty of holidays in the hospital. Children’s hospital staff are incredible humans, and they tried in earnest to brighten the gloom.
Nevertheless, sometimes there is no escaping your dark reality. My daughter was fighting for her life, still in critical condition. I had been unable to hold her, my newborn baby, for 5 long days. The depression ran deep.
Christmas in the hospital was a tease. A reminder that everyone and everything was carrying on. Yet we were here stuck in a nightmare, with no end in sight. Reminders everywhere of everything we were missing, and what she might never experience.
Christmas Eve in the hospital with an ill newborn
The day before Christmas Eve, our daughter’s team made several medication and support changes and it was a lot for her little body to handle. So come Christmas Eve, they kept most things consistent to give her a little rest and time to adjust.
It was a fairly uneventful day, the slightest reprieve. We were starting to notice a pattern of moving two steps forward in a positive direction, and then one step backward. An all-consuming emotional yo-yo.
Our daughter was managing but was not following their anticipated timeline. Typically in this situation, they would expect to extubate 24-48 hours post-op; however, she was not showing any signs of being ready even 4 days post-op.
One of her levels, vitals, or other markers would improve and something else would get worse. The nurses still had code meds ready to go, already drawn, in her room in case she went into cardiopulmonary arrest. We were on edge.
Yet there was this looming big holiday we could not get away from. If it was only us, I would have shut it out. However, it was not only us.
We had a, then, nearly 4-year-old and an almost 6-year-old at home eagerly anticipating Christmas. The ages where they recognize and remember the holiday, and ask how long until Christmas all year long. Finally, it was time, but we were in the hospital and had still not yet returned with the promised baby sister.
My husband and I went back and forth again and again on Christmas Eve, toying with the idea of making a quick trip home for Christmas. All the feels, all the fear. It felt like an impossible decision.
The idea of leaving our newborn daughter in the CTICU on Christmas when she was so unstable was terrifying. What if something critical happened while we were away? The idea of not seeing our two boys on Christmas was soul-crushing. What if this ruins the magic? When you have a child in the hospital and children at home, it’s an inconceivable reality to balance.
Surprise trip home for Christmas
With the nurse’s encouragement, we decided to head home for a short stay. They had her on a schedule, so some things were (in theory) predictable. We waited until she was asleep for the night, packed a few things, and drove home.
My shoulders were high, my jaw tight, and my stomach in knots, I couldn’t relax. Were we dancing with fate?
But when the door creaked, and I saw the look on our boys’ faces, I knew we had made the right decision. My (nearly) 4-year-old sprinted, squeezed me tight, and said “I missed you so much.”
We had some family time, prepped the gifts, and snuggled up close. Later we called our daughter’s nurse who updated us with her unchanged status. The confirmation allowed us to give in to our exhaustion and sleep.
In the morning, we opened presents and had Christmas breakfast together. I reenergized through their joy. It was bittersweet.
I’m so glad we were able to join them for a little bit of fun and cheer despite the circumstances. And it was incredibly sad to think that our newest addition was not a part of it, and her future was unclear. We did not take a family photo, it didn’t feel right.
Christmas in the hospital with an ill newborn
As the boys’ excitement grew with more and more new toys, our anxiety grew with more and more time away from the hospital. We knew the boys were in good care. So we left late Christmas morning to head back to the hospital.
We didn’t speak much on the way back, a shared tense silence. We were both anxiously eager to see our baby girl. There was little we could do for her physically, but we had to be there.
Returning to her room brought relief. Nothing catastrophic had happened while we were gone. I sanitized my hands and rushed to stroke her head. Still, we were unable to hold her.
Despite the date and decorations, it felt like Christmas was over for us at this point. No holiday dinner, no cheer. Back to the ICU hampster wheel.
They made some changes to her meds, further weaning her support in hopes of moving her closer to extubation. She had a wipe bath and hated the chill.
Christmas in the hospital was eventful because our daughter was recovering from open-heart surgery which is an unimaginable, unforgettable reality. Yet it was also so uneventful at the same time, as many of the days in the ICU blurred together Groundhog Day style.
Positives of spending Christmas in the hospital
There was so much grief and challenging feelings, and yet, there were also some positives.
First and foremost, I am infinitely grateful we were able to get our daughter the help she needed so quickly. None of it was easy, and of course, I didn’t want it to happen over Christmas, but at least it was an option for her.
We were also lucky to have my parents showering the boys with love, fun, and support. They kept them distracted and sprinkled some of that Christmas magic. I am so grateful for this.
More than anything, I am thankful for the incredibly skilled and dedicated surgeons, doctors, nurses, technicians, and other hospital staff who continued to work tirelessly through the holidays for our baby girl and others.
Reflections from a Christmas in the hospital
Once I knew she had to be transferred, I secretly and naively clung to the idea of getting her home for Christmas. As a Christmas lover, spending Christmas in the hospital sounded dreadful.
I was sad to miss out on my favorite holiday, but I managed my disappointment.
The guilt of missing one of the boys’ most formative years of my favorite holiday was a much tougher pill to swallow. I was distraught at not being able to create the most magical memories I wished for them, as I had experienced. Making the quick trip home didn’t alleviate all of the guilt, but it helped somewhat.
And most painful of all was having my newborn daughter in critical condition and not having her home for the holiday as anticipated.
As I acknowledged what I was missing, and zoomed out, I was better able to muck through the grief. And even realize some positives and things to be grateful for about spending Christmas in the hospital.
Through this, I genuinely learned how much you can experience contradictory feelings simultaneously. And that’s perfectly okay and normal. Which is an important and reoccurring lesson as a heart mom. Joy and grief can coexist. Gratefulness and sadness can coexist.
