Sitting in the hospital with nothing to do but stare at a sweet baby.
And lately I've been thinking a lot about how lucky I am to be BH's mom.
Sure, I've never had a normal pregnancy.
And I hate that I'm not good at being pregnant.
I've never had a baby and gone home the next day.
I've never even had a baby that didn't go to the NICU.
I've never been more than 34 weeks pregnant.
But I've experienced something greater.
Yes, BH's birth and life so far have been exhausting.
The praying. The medical terms. The research.
THE DRIVING. The late nights. The early mornings.
The absence of an entire family under one roof.
The leaving half of my heart at the hospital part.....
But it has been AMAZING.
I have loved every single minute of it.
And I'm so grateful that God chose me to be his Mom.
To me, it means He thought I could handle it.
And I'm proud to say that I can.
A lot of our nurses are surprised by what I do while I'm in the hospital.
It's not unusual for them to come in the room, and I've already changed his
diaper or swaddled him into a different position.
I can turn off the monitors, and I could probably even work his machine
that puts the milk through his tube....but I don't go that far.
The point is, I'm there.
I'm there being his mom, just like I'm suppose to.
It may not be ideal, but I'm his mom no matter where he lays his head.
Of course at first, I was nervous. And I sat back and watched.
But I've learned a ton.
I even participate in rounds with the doctors when they come to us.
They have questions for the nurses and while they are looking up the
answers, I can usually tell them the answers.
I'm not patting myself on the back or anything.
I only have one baby to take care of, and they have tons.
So I know my baby and his facts.
And the lucky part for BH?
His dad is the same way.
We have our routine down pretty good now.
FH is there during the day. He normally knows any concerns I have and gets answers for me.
Then I'm there in the evening. Sometimes both of us and the girls. Sometimes FH takes the girls home to do homework.
FH calls to check on him right before he goes to bed at night. And leaves me a note so I see it at my 2 AM pumping session.
I call to check on him during my 5 AM pumping session. And leave him a note so he knows what's going on before he leaves to take the girls to school in the mornings.
And we don't just call to hear "He's doing good."....we call for numbers. We want facts. We need his
weight in kilograms and I do the conversion and write it down each day. We research concerns and decide on what questions we need to bring up with the doctors during the rounds.
We make a good team.
And I'm pretty sure that's why God chose us.
I found this poem today and it made me smile....
Since having BH, I'm obsessed with all things preemie.
I swear I want to build a clubhouse and let all preemie moms come hang out with me in it.
It's just a different world and I'm totally absorbed in that world right now. :)
How Preemie Moms Are Chosen by Erma Bombeck
Did you ever wonder how the mothers of premature babies are chosen?
Somehow, I visualize God hovering over Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
"Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint, Matthew. Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia.
Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron Saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. "Give her a preemie."
The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."
"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel."
"But does she have the patience?" asks the angel.
"I don't want her to have too much patience, or she'll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off, she'll handle it. I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has a world of its own. She has to make it live in her world, and that's not going to be easy."
"But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you."
God smiles. "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect She has just the right amount of selfishness."
The angel gasps, "Selfishness?! Is that a virtue?"
God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't know it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says momma for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see-- ignorance, cruelty, prejudice-- and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."
"And what about her Patron Saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in the air.
God smiles. "A mirror will suffice."
**This poem is accurate in the patience department...I don't have enough of it.
***This poem is not accurate where it says "I don't think she even believes in you."....I have more faith now than I have ever had, and I've always had a good amount. :)
And last but not least
I have listened to it at least a million times. And it still makes me cry when I listen. Enjoy.
Happy Holidays to you and yours. May you all find something to be thankful for this Christmas. :)
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