Sorrynotsorry.

So, the first sentence I typed and then deleted was this:

I don't want to come across as complaining, but...

Then, I realized, complaining is exactly what I want to do.

Sorrynotsorry.

Why, as women, do we not want to complain?  Is there a biological reason we want to preface our conversations with phrases like:

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but...

I don't want to complain, but...

Don't think I'm unappreciative, but...

Seriously, this is something I do all the time.

Now, I don't mean complain in the whiney, all-the-time, annoying kind of way (friends on your FB feed are probably popping into your mind right now).  Just in the, Hey!  I lead a real life where everything is not perfect all the time! kind of way.  

So, I'm going to complain!  And, I hope you don't think I'm being ungrateful.  Because that would be the understatement of the year.  

Here goes...

I HATE IVs, TUBES, CORDS, MEDICAL EQUIPMENT, ETC.

I hate setting them up, I hate lugging them around everywhere, I hate that Faith can't lead a normal baby life because she's attached to them all the time, I hate that I feel stressed when we go into public, I hate dressing and cap changes and anything else that requires sterility, I hate the risk of infection, I hate planning life around IV windows.  

The bag I've converted into our IV tote.  Make note that they make no cute bags for the purposes of toting around IV bags and pumps.  So annoying!

I know they are life-saving and allow us to be home with our daughter instead of in the hospital.  I get that.  

But, they can GO AWAY and I will NOT miss them.

It's not a fun aspect of life right now.  

It puts regular old childhood illnesses into perspective.  Give me an ear infection ANY DAY.

All of this comes after a particularly challenging day where Faith cried the entire time I performed some necessary central line care.  Unfortunately, I have to 'reverse swaddle' her, if you will - meaning, I use a blanket to hold her arms down, tucking it underneath her back so that the weight of her body keeps her arms from flailing while I'm working on her chest.  Yeah, not fun for anyone, especially Faith.  Sometimes, this puts her to sleep.  But, not yesterday.  

Then there's the bubble flicking.  Before you run the IV you have to rid the line of any air, and this is accomplished by flicking the line.  This is never an easy process, and I'm sometimes sitting on the floor praying that gravity will allow that last bit of air to run out.  Ya know, to avoid pulmonary embolisms.  No pressure.  

Dressing changes are my least favorite thing.  Her central line site is completely exposed, running the risk of infection every time we access it.  Hate. That.  She has to be reverse swaddled, it's time consuming, and makes me have a minor panic attack until it's redressed.  

UGH.

Okay.  I'm finished.  Thanks for listening and not judging.  Little Sis is worth every single second of every single procedure we have to do every day.  But that doesn't mean it won't be a glorious day when the docs tell us it's all over.