Eight Days

I need to write the story of how BGL convinced her medical caregivers to remove her IV a day early. 

Today I got pooped on again. 

Today my son can home from a visit at my sister’s house. So good to have him home. And he got to meet his sister for real. Instead of through the side of her NICU bed.  He was sweet to her. And inquisitive. What’s the deal with that feeding tube anyway? Of course he would ask about it. Repeatedly. 

And, no surprise, he charmed the nurses immediately. Curls and big words and all. 

He also helped me clean the breast pump and return it to the pump “parking lot.” With a glove on. Like the nurse doctor that he is. 

I love my son so much, more than ever. 

And I love my daughter. All 3 lbs 5 oz of her. 


A family came to the NICU today. They come every year on their son’s birthday. He’s five today. And every year they bring insulated totes to the NICU moms so they have something to pack their pumped milk in. 

I was emotional, fighting back tears as I listened to them talk to nurses and others. I gritted my teeth something good when the young boy gave a tote to me. Such a nice family. Such a seeet boy. Born at 30 weeks and weighing 3 lbs 1 oz. He spent 45 days in the NICU. 

Every NICU family has a story. I am thankful for how well ours is going. And my heart aches for the babies whose families can’t be or just aren’t there. And the baby on methadone and the one phenobarbital. Not every baby’s story is all butterflies and sunshine. 

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One Response to Eight Days

  1. Carol says:

    Richard said it the other day. He is so grateful for the home/family he grew up in, where he knew they loved him and he was safe and always had a place to be safe, never went hungry. That is what his children will one day be grateful for. And so will yours. I may have mentioned how glad I am for my grandchildren. Their parents love them. And so on. They have every chance in this world. Know what I mean? Long comment. Sorry.

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