Day 13

Thursday-- 6 days since last event

To finish up yesterdays update... we talked to the neonatologist and tried to work out some way we could still go home on Friday... no go. Saturday was the earliest she was willing to consider. So we will not be bringing our baby home tomorrow as planned.

If you are all thinking "it's just one more day" yes you are right. One more day isn't a big deal to most people who are living a normal life. To people who go to work or have a million things to occupy their mind and time during the day one more day goes by in a blink of an eye. But for me, one more day is forever. For me minutes feel like hours and hours feel like days in that place. One more day of sitting in a dimly lit room watching every wave form on the machine praying constantly that it won't dip for too long and start things all over. One more day of trying to nurse my baby while people hover to watch and then check every 2 minutes to make sure she is eating ok. One more day of taking temperatures and weighing dirty diapers. One more day of not feeling like my baby is my own. One more day of nurses and their opinions on what I am not doing right. One more day of the hospital rocking chair that has been my home for the last 9 days. Just one more day.

I don't have much of an update today because I came home last night and I haven't gone back yet. I am sitting at home typing this and aching for my baby but the thought of going back to sit in that room makes my head spin and my stomach churn. So I am at an impasse. I hate being in that place but I hate not being with her even more. I feel like a terrible mother. I feel like I should sit at her bedside 24 hours of the day just like I would be if she were home. I worry she doesn't know me. I worry when she gets home she won't know that I am her mom because she has had so many other people taking care of her. I just worry. I wouldn't wish the NICU on my worst enemy. It has been the hardest 2 weeks of my life. I have cried more tears than I knew were in my body. I have spent countless nights pleading with my Heavenly Father to send peace and help me be strong enough. My heart breaks daily as I sit and watch her. I feel like the first two weeks of her life have been stolen from me.

I know that people have babies in the NICU all the time. I know that 2 weeks is nothing compared to the months that other babies spend. I know that I should be handling this better and with more grace. I know it all. I am trying. I am trying to take it all in stride, trying to keep it in perspective, trying to find all the good and let go of the bad, trying to be grateful for this trial in our lives. But I am not as strong or as good as most. So I sit and type and complain and cry and try to pull myself together so I can drive back to Salt Lake and sit with my baby. After all it is just one more day.