power would only last so long before I would have to resort to hand pumping the feeds. Quite frankly, after having done so during more than one emergency nearly a year before, it wasn’t even a possibility now. There was no way I could pump the 420ml she took overnight. I would have to sleep sometime.
Lyle and Lily were heading to bed when I returned. We spoke briefly. They watched the end of a television show. I tucked Kylie into the makeshift bed we were to share in a corner of the living room. Lily had found a feather bed in her closet. I had folded it in half on the floor to make a narrow fluffier mattress. Kylie loved sleeping tucked into my side. We would be plenty comfortable. We had our favorite blankets and familiar pillows. Whenever she looked at me as if to question what we were doing, I’d simply remind her we were on a very big adventure. So far, it was working.
***
My day began with phone calls. Lots and lots of phone calls. Julia was working so hard for me from Atlanta, you’d have thought she was getting paid. It made me feel so blessed to have a friend who was so loving and supportive and, most importantly, not judgmental in the least. She was trying to help me with a plan.
“I forgot Kylie’s cord,” I admitted.
Julia would completely understand. Her boys had feeding pumps too. This wasn’t the kind of thing I could just run to the store to replace. It sucked. She was adamant about how I should handle it.
“You can’t go back, Nina,” she reminded me. “Promise.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I just don’t know what to do for a cord.”
“Call the medical supply company. You should be able to get a cord right away.”
Acquiring a replacement was important. Of course, the problem was, at the moment, everything was important. The lingering fear in my mind was that Shane would become vengeful, and follow through with his threats. He might call the police on me under the pretense I had kidnapped his child and stolen his vehicle. That I might not be there for Kylie was my biggest fear of all. It was all about taking care of her.
Along with custody issues, and equipment challenges, I also faced economic hardship as well. The Christmas money wasn’t going to go far. There would be gas and food to purchase. Oh, and there was the little problem of not having a car charger, which would need to be remedied, since I was currently homeless with a special needs child.
So, I pulled out the purple card the police had given me the night before. It was their first act upon arriving on the scene. Purple card. I’m sure they have loads of cards, all color-coded. Luckily, purple is my favorite color. It’s also nearly impossible to lose. On the card were all kinds of government agencies and private organizations. There were shelters I would never go to because I wasn’t that desperate, and being there might literally be dangerous for Kylie. We were, after all, entering RSV season. RSV acts like the common cold for those of us with strong, healthy lung tissue and hardy immune systems. Those without what most of us take for granted can end up hospitalized. I should know. Last winter, even while in isolation, even with receiving monthly Synagis shots, which were supposed to prevent RSV, Kylie ended up hospitalized for it twice. The second time, she even had RSV and pneumonia. It was a rough winter. Luckily, I was hospitalized with her, staying in an even smaller isolation space for days on end. Suffice it to say we needed to be around as few people as possible. No shelters.
There were still plenty of phone numbers to call. The first one was Victim’s Assistance. It was quite possibly the second hardest phone call I had ever had to make. The day before, I remember how my hands shook while I spoke to the police. Still, in the moment, I didn’t really believe I was doing it. This call would force
Lyle and Lily were heading to bed when I returned. We spoke briefly. They watched the end of a television show. I tucked Kylie into the makeshift bed we were to share in a corner of the living room. Lily had found a feather bed in her closet. I had folded it in half on the floor to make a narrow fluffier mattress. Kylie loved sleeping tucked into my side. We would be plenty comfortable. We had our favorite blankets and familiar pillows. Whenever she looked at me as if to question what we were doing, I’d simply remind her we were on a very big adventure. So far, it was working.
***
My day began with phone calls. Lots and lots of phone calls. Julia was working so hard for me from Atlanta, you’d have thought she was getting paid. It made me feel so blessed to have a friend who was so loving and supportive and, most importantly, not judgmental in the least. She was trying to help me with a plan.
“I forgot Kylie’s cord,” I admitted.
Julia would completely understand. Her boys had feeding pumps too. This wasn’t the kind of thing I could just run to the store to replace. It sucked. She was adamant about how I should handle it.
“You can’t go back, Nina,” she reminded me. “Promise.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I just don’t know what to do for a cord.”
“Call the medical supply company. You should be able to get a cord right away.”
Acquiring a replacement was important. Of course, the problem was, at the moment, everything was important. The lingering fear in my mind was that Shane would become vengeful, and follow through with his threats. He might call the police on me under the pretense I had kidnapped his child and stolen his vehicle. That I might not be there for Kylie was my biggest fear of all. It was all about taking care of her.
Along with custody issues, and equipment challenges, I also faced economic hardship as well. The Christmas money wasn’t going to go far. There would be gas and food to purchase. Oh, and there was the little problem of not having a car charger, which would need to be remedied, since I was currently homeless with a special needs child.
So, I pulled out the purple card the police had given me the night before. It was their first act upon arriving on the scene. Purple card. I’m sure they have loads of cards, all color-coded. Luckily, purple is my favorite color. It’s also nearly impossible to lose. On the card were all kinds of government agencies and private organizations. There were shelters I would never go to because I wasn’t that desperate, and being there might literally be dangerous for Kylie. We were, after all, entering RSV season. RSV acts like the common cold for those of us with strong, healthy lung tissue and hardy immune systems. Those without what most of us take for granted can end up hospitalized. I should know. Last winter, even while in isolation, even with receiving monthly Synagis shots, which were supposed to prevent RSV, Kylie ended up hospitalized for it twice. The second time, she even had RSV and pneumonia. It was a rough winter. Luckily, I was hospitalized with her, staying in an even smaller isolation space for days on end. Suffice it to say we needed to be around as few people as possible. No shelters.
There were still plenty of phone numbers to call. The first one was Victim’s Assistance. It was quite possibly the second hardest phone call I had ever had to make. The day before, I remember how my hands shook while I spoke to the police. Still, in the moment, I didn’t really believe I was doing it. This call would force
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