We laugh to keep from crying

During the course of Lola's stay in Children's Hospital of Birmingham Jeff and I relied quite heavily on humor to get us through this major event in our little girl's life.

I thought I'd share some of the funnier moments from this time because they are part of what helped us to remain grounded throughout this ordeal.

We were fortunate that Jeff's parents and older brother, Scott, were able to be with us while Lola was in surgery. Scott has always had a terrific sense of humor and had us rolling with laughter when he shared about the time he'd forgotten he'd already taken his diabetes medication, took another dose and later found himself feeling limp as a wet noodle and watching the room spin before his eyes. Thankfully, he still had the ability to get himself into the kitchen where he downed as much ice cream as he could in an effort to bring his blood sugar levels up. He didn't report as to whether this action resulted in a massive ice cream headache.

Wednesday after Jeff and I had left Lola in the ICU and returned to the hotel, we both basically collapsed into bed. Although my body was beyond exhausted, my mind apparently kept churning. I know this because when we woke up the next morning, Jeff asked, "Can I have my wedding ring back now?" I thought he'd lost his ever-loving mind, but, sure enough, I felt my left ring finger and there was his wedding band.

I asked him why I had his ring, and he replied, " I don't know why, but you woke me up in the middle of the night pulling my ring off while mumbling something about Lola. I was too damn tired to fight you, so I just let you have it."

I have no recollection of this event, but I know Jeff did not make it up. He was WAY too tired to spin such an elaborate yarn and plant his ring on my finger.

On Thursday when Lola began swelling so terribly, it was very scary. Both Jeff and I got choked up seeing her in such a state; but, as we got somewhat comfortable seeing her like that, we began to realize that while she looked pitiful, she also looked like some familiar faces. Jeff pointed out first - although I'd been thinking it - that she resembled Stewie from "Family Guy." Her appearance was so like that of Stewie that we half-expected her to utter one of his more memorable lines, "Hello, mother. I come bearing a gift. I'll give you a hint. It's in my diaper and it's not a toaster."

We also laughed at the recognition that she also looked somewhat like Dr. Cockroach in "Monsters vs. Aliens" as well as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from "Ghostbusters." Once she began to open her eyes, she kind of looked like Rocky Balboa after he'd gone a few rounds with Apollo Creed, which caused Jeff to spend a great deal of time calling out, "Yo, Adrian!"

Lola will hate us one day for ever daring to compare her to such creatures, but, in all honestly, it helped us to deal with what we were facing - which was a v-e-r-y swollen and puffy child who looked nothing like the little girl we'd watched being taken back to the operating room.

After coming out of surgery, Lola had a hard time keeping solid food down. Her first few ounces of formula came back up quicker than they went down, and the first time we fed her baby food, I ended up covered in strained peaches.

While dealing with vomit is not something either Jeff or I enjoy, it's part of this parenting gig. So, we got her cleaned up and tidied up the room. Because I had no change of clothes with me and since my dress resembled a hazardous waste spill, the nurses graciously provided me with a hospital gown to wear.

The gown would have been fine had I been staying overnight at the hospital; but, seeing as all my clothes and toiletries were at the hotel, I had to leave. I waited to leave until about 9 p.m. thinking there would be fewer people on the streets to see me and wonder if I'd escaped from the Center for Psychiatric Care. However, I forgot that Saturday night was the big night for the Schaeffer Eye Center Crawfish Boil.

The streets were teeming with people as were the elevators and hallways at the hotel. Thankfully, no one turned me into the "crazy police," but I got plenty of stares, which were all deserved since I was such a curious sight (imagine: fat woman in her mid-thirties with dirty hair, dark circles under eyes, exhausted demeanor, reeks of vomit, wearing a hospital gown and flip-flops and toting a plastic book bag and stylish hand bag from The Limited. Hell, it's a thousand wonders I wasn't picked up on suspicion of being a bag lady!).

While we didn't spend all our time chuckling and giggling, the few times that we did manage to laugh helped us tremendously through this awful time. I now know the adage, "laughter is the best medicine," does ring true.