Home, partly...

I would say the worst part of the first week was the day we had to go home and leave Dane behind.  We spent the last couple of hours with him and then went down to the lobby with all of my stuff, but no baby.  I have a good friend I have mentioned before in this blog that had a son in the NICU, Arika, and she warned me about what this day would be all about.  I thought I was prepared and knew what it would feel like, empty, hollow, too quiet, and then when we got home, the empty nursery.  She relayed a story to me about how another woman left the hospital at the same time as her, the difference being this woman carried her newborn in her arms, and my friend asked her husband to take her back inside until the other woman went away.  Sure enough, as I was waiting for Andrew to bring the car around so we could go home, another young mom came out, being pushed in a wheelchair, holding her new baby.

It would be easy to feel angry about how you can try and do everything right, but that so much is out of your control, and you just have to deal with it and move forward.  It doesn't make it hurt any less knowing this, but what it does give you an opportunity for is to rely on your faith and your husband, and to let friends get into spaces in your heart that are normally much more guarded.  The important thing in these moments, to me at least, is to let the feelings come, move through and experience them, journal if you need to, and let the healing come from God, and from people who love you and want the best for you.  During this time, you have to be strong for your child, they are depending on you still be the mommy (or the Daddy as my husband just said) even though they are not with you yet.  I felt scared, sad, and cried rivers all the way home, and I allowed myself to do that and didn't try to put on a brave face.  Energy is limited and precious, and it is better spent learning to cope with the new reality you are faced with now.

To anyone and everyone who is going through this, or who has gone through this, God bless you and be with you.  Martha Harrelson once said that she thought people who had babies in the NICU were special people, and I can see how that comes to be.  It hollows you out like a river that runs through a canyon over time, and the room it leaves seems to want to be filled with concern for others going through the same thing, and for giving time and encouragement when maybe before you would have been afraid to say something.  I have had people tell me about their experiences from four days to over three months, and these have been some of the nicest and most encouraging letters I have ever gotten.  The NICU is a hard, sad place, but it sure does make for some beautiful people, both babies and parents.