The knot in my stomach hardens and grows as the hours creep closer to the impending surgery. I should sleep- Cora is pig snorting away in her sterile cold medical crib and I'm cuddled up two feet away in my creaky cot. My eyes are so heavy and tired from the stress of "the waiting day" where there is nothing to do but worry, pray, fret, clean, pack, repack, hold and kiss Cora to pieces and worry some more. I know she will be fine, but it is all so terrifying. Strange how when I worked at the hospital and casually greeted people when they arrived, I didn't fully understand the entirety of the scared, overwhelming sensation hospitals bring. I was so incredibly and blissfully unaware of how hard it can be, especially on the families.
Anyway, I should try to rest. We will be up again at 3:00 a.m. for her last bottle. She goes into surgery at 10:00 and can't have anything (water, etc.) after 8:00. For as much as she loves to eat in the mornings, combined with the nerve-wracking wait during surgery, tomorrow might be a nightmare.
Okay stomach, time to please unknot for the night.
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