I am in an interior unit. The windows look out into the nurse's station and the well baby nursery. It's nine months since Valentine's Day--the nursery is full of plump, happy babies.
La Traviata. Earlier, it was 1980's Lite Radio love songs. Slow dance, anyone?
I visit Sarah. I return to my room and try to rest. I pump. I repeat the pattern. But tonight, I go home..
the incredible hearts of the neonatal staff.
blech. Thank God my brother-in-law lives a mile away and brings me real food.
I had a baby on the vigil of All Saint's Day. Time stood still.
a pink nightgown, my medal necklace, fuzzy socks and four hospital bracelets.
memories. It will take me years, I think, to sort them.
Towards a real education ...
Ahhh...all my children are learning is this crash course in fetal development outside the womb and tricks on their cousins' trampoline.
I miss my home. I desperately miss my home. I want to bring my daughter home and hunker down for the winter. I want to hold her and nurse her and let my children snuggle in close to us. And then I never want to leave.
Preemies, by Linden et all. It was in the NICU library. I heard Dr. Sears has a preemie book. Wish they had that one.
Sarah can come home soon.
Sarah is writing the plans. We'll do whatever she tells us.
No pictures this week. I have the camera but no cord and no photo program on this computer. Trust me, there is a deluge of photos coming in the not-too-distant future.