Kathleen, Queen of the Desert

My little two-year-old nursling Eddie was in traction and a spika cast for six days. He had a spiral fracture of the femur from jumping off a friends’ couch in Albuquerque while we were watching the Rose Parade on New Years Day 1988. Taken to the emergency room with our friends’ paperback books lashed together for a splint, Eddie had to endure too much handling, too many X-rays, and too many doctors and nurses.

What he did not have to endure was separation from his mother or a break in nursing.

The hospital bed was narrow, but I nursed him on that bed while Eddie’s leg and hips were attached to weights and cords, and then again after his spika cast was added. I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted from the cafeteria because I was a breastfeeding mother, and I made sure Eddie got the foods he wanted (such as Cheerios at midnight). I am sure my attention, nursing, and communication made our stay and his recovery go really well. I created a series of 20 cartoons portraying how Eddie had broken his leg, and I taped these all around his room. The doctors enjoyed the cartoons and asked Eddie to further describe his accident.

Among the gadgets that went with his hospital bed, Eddie found the NURSE button which patients are to push when they want an attendant’s attention. (Those patients who didn’t have a mother 24/7, sleeping in the next bed, monitoring intake and output, and entertaining said patient.) Assuming that button was a BREASTFEEDING button, he pushed it frequently with glee.

After the six days at the hospital, we drove Eddie five hours south to our home, where he slept with us, lay on the table to eat, and took sponge baths. But he never had separation from his mother or a break in nursing. I’m sure that saved both of us.